Chapter 6 Worried #2
I glanced at Draken, who sat next to me. He was staring at the scarred, green-eyed mage with undisguised shock in his eyes. I saw him look between me and the handsome praecurus with wide, disbelieving eyes, as if comparing the two of us.
That’s when it hit me, what was so familiar about him.
He looked like me.
Well, not like me, exactly, but I could see enough to know why Draken stared.
Green eyes. Black hair. That jawline. The shape of his mouth.
I even knew that particular face.
Or really, I knew a face that looked a lot like it, minus the shocking scar, and with darker eyes. That didn’t even include the fact that I could see similarities between his face and my own, and even more obviously, between his face and my dead mother’s.
I glanced at his feet, and the suspicion strengthened.
A blue and black wolf stood there, its head just about reaching the top of the mage’s knee-high boots.
The La Fey familial was a wolf. A wolf nearly identical to that one shadowed Ankha’s heels before she died.
I guessed if I’d been able to see magic as a child, my mother’s primal would have looked roughly the same.
Whoever this man was, I was related to him in some way.
He looked so much like my mother’s cousin. Was I misremembering the color of the eyes I’d seen in Ankha’s memories?
“R-Racyth––” I began in a halting stammer.
A hard smile touched those sculpted lips. “Not quite, cousin,” he said politely, inclining his head. “Regretfully, my father is dead. I am his second son. Valor.”
I felt my face warm. “Of course,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“There is no need to apologize. I am flattered you see him in me.”
Silence fell between us. I heard coughs, shuffles, murmurs across parts of the high-ceilinged hall. If I had to guess, just about everyone in there had heard us, and now knew this handsome mage was related to me.
Valor La Fey looked only at me.
I wondered if I should be doing something, given he was family.
Was there something I was supposed to say to his remark?
Some social nicety I hadn’t yet learned about greeting a family member for the first time?
Before I could make up my mind, Valor La Fey inclined his head in another near-bow.
He used a black-gloved hand to indicate he wished me to accompany him out of the hall.
It hit me only then that I was just sitting there. I hadn’t even stood up.
He clasped black-gloved hands at the base of his spine.
“Could we have a private word, dear cousin?” he asked politely. “This is an official visit, I’m afraid. While I would love for us to establish a less-formal acquaintanceship, right now, I am here at the behest of the Ethnarch, and the Federation Europa of the Ancient Race.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
He seemed to see, or sense, the alarm on me.
“I was given special dispensation to deliver a message,” he added, his voice reassuring.
“As it involves a family matter, they agreed to send me rather than the usual couriers. You have no reason to be alarmed, dear cousin.” His lips quirked, and a tiny spark reached his eyes.
It looked almost like amusement. “…You are not in trouble.”
I blinked. My mouth fell open.
Unfortunately, I’d opened it without having any idea what I meant to say.
“O-of course.” I was definitely off-balance, and now struggling with a very different kind of panic. A family matter? It had to be about Arcturus, didn’t it?
Would they inform me about some random family member I’d never met, someone other than Arcturus? I had my doubts.
But my brother wasn’t of age.
If he’d been killed––
“Cousin?” Valor inquired. “Perhaps we could go somewhere more private?”
I hadn’t moved a muscle after he’d last spoken. I’d just sat there, staring down at the wooden table like I’d been turned to stone.
Now I followed his gaze around the rest of Worm Hall.
All those eyes I’d been avoiding stared back at me.
I saw some mages and witches murmuring behind hands, but most were silent, their desserts forgotten.
They looked morbidly fascinated, like they were positive I was about to be murdered in front of them, or maybe just taken away in chains.
Swallowing, I looked back at Valor, and made another attempt at a smile.
“Of course,” I said. “Yes.”
My eyes fell on the pudding someone set in front of me only a minute or so earlier. I hadn’t touched the large slice of lemon tart yet, but I’d been planning on it. I was almost as fond of lemon tart as I was of crème br?lée.
Instead, I rose stiffly to my feet.
Still tense to the point of trembling, and now overly-aware of the eyes of every mage and witch in the hall, I climbed out from behind the bench and walked stiffly around the table to where Valor La Fey and his six uniformed Praecuri stood.
My cousin made another polite, sweeping, bow-like gesture. His arm and hand indicated towards the hall’s main doors, making it clear where he wanted me. I glanced at the stern, motionless faces of the praecuri behind him, but none of them acknowledged me in any way.
Realizing I was still just standing there, I began to walk.
Valor fell into step beside me. Something about the way he did it felt oddly protective, which maybe should have reassured me, but somehow didn’t reassure me at all.
My mind spun out of control.
If it was just a message, why had they sent so many? Why hadn’t he come to my dormitory instead of making a scene in front of the entire school? Was the “official business” thing just an excuse? Was I really being arrested?
Maybe that was the real reason everyone stared.
Maybe they knew exactly what it meant, Valor La Fey and his six praecuri arriving like this, decked out in official uniforms. Maybe they’d understood the meaning of the Praecuri’s visit the instant they saw them appear at the hall’s doors.
I didn’t let myself think about Ankha, much less a certain blond mage likely half-drunk on wine and pretending to eat his pudding in another part of the hall.
My mental shielding abilities, which I’d practiced obsessively all last year and all summer, had definitely improved, but I had no illusions they would withstand any kind of concerted probe by a member of the Praecuri.
They were masters of mind control, both their own and other people’s.
I likely wouldn’t even feel them there, if they decided to invade mine.
Even the murmurs ceased once we began to leave.
Despite how loud it had been just minutes before, no one made a sound as I passed by their tables.
When I glanced towards the teachers, and the raised dais of Headmaster Voltaire, I saw them all following our procession as wordlessly as the students.
Voltaire stared openly from her higher elevation, her posture rigid, the Malcroix Cross hanging on a heavy chain around her neck.
The violet crystal on the bone cross glinted in the overhead chandeliers.
I didn’t let myself look for Bones.
I didn’t let myself wonder how he might be reacting.