Chapter 9 #2
“Who do you think they are?” I whispered to Dainan, who had regained an iota of color.
“Perhaps the Scala.” Dainan finally answered.
I nodded in agreement and understanding. They are the key and here they are. Real, tangible. How many stories and myths circulated surrounding their very existence? I wished Brida could see this, recalling her excitement during Illerium’s lecture.
A woman who looked no older than thirty with brown hair entered the dining hall. In one hand, she supported a platter that carried this silver trout, and in the other, the famed cheeseboard.
“Oh Imelda, dear. That looks positively lovely.”
“You think so?” She beamed, placing it down in front of Thetius.
“I do, I do. It will be near impossible to pick just one. I, therefore, kindly request that you afford me time to assess what you have here, and then make the rounds before returning to me. I do hate to hold the others up.”
Smiling, she detailed the six cheeses of various animals that I had never heard of before circling the table to stop at the cloaked figures.
“It’s best she believes we are interested, but out of obligation, everyone else will think we’ve made our selection and none will be left by the time she returns.” Thetius smiled before lifting his knife and fork to cut into the fish and herbed potatoes that now rested atop his plate.
“Eat, eat!” He shoveled the first bite into his mouth before releasing a moan that, under normal circumstances, would have been deemed unsavory. However, I remained unsure what the rules of propriety were in this place. Should any exist.
I looked at Dainan, who had proceeded to cut one of the baby potatoes in half, examining it as if he were a magister about to perform a life-altering procedure. As he took his first bite, he nodded at Thetius in thanks before returning his gaze forward.
“There was quite a kerfuffle in Azmeer last you two were there,” Thetius said with a mouth full of food.
At his words, my pulse quickened, thudding in my ears, deafening my thoughts.
Keep it together.
Offering him a faint smile, I took a bite of the fish, which melted on my tongue. Still tastes great. Thank the Gods.
I said nothing—there was little I wanted to discuss less than my last moments in Azmeer. Perhaps save the last few months.
“Not the first time Azmeer has been in a state. Did you know? Those brothers, Gods, those brothers. Didn’t they nearly fuck everything right up for everyone else.
But Azmeer wasn’t truly a state then, not really.
Just on the precipice of existing.” He said as if he were talking to himself, continuing to gorge on the food in front of him.
“Is that so?” I finally said, knowing that at some point during this farce of a meal, I would have to engage, but engage in what?
Our judgment and assessment? Would they send us back to Azmeer?
To Thalius, to Rai? Would we leave here alive?
Would we leave here at all? Are those the Scala? How do we save those we love?
“There are two types of families.” Thetius scraped his knife against his plate.
“There are those who love each other unconditionally. Sometimes,” he forked another bite into his mouth, “that is the family you are born to, the ones whose blood flows through your veins. For others, it is the family you find along the way.”
I turned my gaze to Dainan, who once again was lost in thought. Gods, why am I the one being forced to endure this?
“There are families where there is a bad seed, despite the love, the efforts of the parents. Now the bad seeds, while terrible family members, do make history that much more interesting.”
My head was reeling. “What all does this have to do with family, exactly?”
“Ah, yes, we were discussing the brothers.”
I’m not sure “we” were discussing anything at all.
I offered a curt nod of my head. The trained politician’s niece springing into action.
“That was the last time Azmeer was in such political turmoil. Was those damned brothers, well, really just the one. The other was fine.”
Wiping the edge of my mouth with my napkin, I asked, “And what were the names of these brothers?” I was familiar enough with Azmeer’s history.
Nothing like Brida. I liked books well enough, but why would I shove my nose into a book when I could be out seeing the world, touching it, smelling it, tasting it.
“Oh, what were their names? They were both handsome, that I remember well enough.” He winked at me in a way I hoped to never experience again, “And were fundamentally different. The names will come to me eventually. It has been some time, you see, and when you see as much as we do,” he gestured his arms around the room, “it can get a bit muddled up in here.” He pointed to his head.
“You have been here for some time then, Thet—”
“Ah, ah. T.”
“T,” I said.
“As a matter of fact, I—” As Thetius spoke, a voice, softer than silk, smoother than any I’d heard, radiated from one of the cloaked figures.
“That is enough, Thetius.” The voice commanded.
Adorning a quirky smile, and with a bow of his head, Thetius said no more, readjusting his position in his seat.
“As pleasant as it is to have fresh company among us,” the one in the center said as they gestured to the few individuals and empty chairs in the room, “we wish to know how you came to be here, Ms. Towler, Prince Luchien.”
Squirming in my seat, my hands fell to my lap, fingers twisting with each other as I cleared my throat, searching desperately for the words to explain how it is we’d found ourselves in this mess.
A stabbing sensation wormed its way from my gut to my throat, the words embedding themselves into my soul, refusing to budge. Perhaps one day I would be able to speak of it. But today was not that day.
Say something. For fucks sake, say something.
Brushing the few strands of hair back from my face, I opened my mouth to speak. I have been in worse situations than this and managed. I can do this.
“It’s a trying tale. One we ourselves do not understand.” Dainan’s tone was steadfast, unshakable. The dark prince I knew him to be.
“Try,” the voice of the left hooded figures said.
Wiping his mouth before placing his napkin on the table, Dainan took a steadying breath.
He spoke of the events of the past several weeks.
The murder of his father, the attempted murder of his mother.
How he did not know what her condition was now.
The days leading up to the wedding, the wedding itself, and our arrival.
“Naturally, when I shadow-stepped, I had believed to follow my m—” Dainan caught himself before he said anything more. “It was as much of a surprise to me to find ourselves here as it no doubt has been for you, but,” Dainan paused, looking around the room, “perhaps you were expecting us.”
“There is little that remains unexpected to us.” One of the figures hissed. The three figures rose from the table like ancient sentinels. I almost expected them to groan or ache as they stood, assuming them to be older than anyone I’d ever met.
“Are you the Scala?” Dainan questioned, and I silently thanked him for asking the question.
The central figure lowered her hood, revealing a face as pale as limestone, eyes swirling with a blue sheen.
“We are, Dark Prince. But I fear what you have heard about us will not be favorable to you.”
“You’re the Seers… you can answer our questions,” I said without thinking.
When will I ever learn?
“We are merely watchers and guardians, Ms. Towler. Answers do await you here, but not by us. Each who is brought here is done so for a reason.”
A reason?
“While we have been expecting you, both of you,” her glazed eyes darted between Dainan and I, “we do not know what has beckoned you here.”
“Time is fickle.” The one to the right said. “I hope you find your reasons before they find you.” The Scala turned in unison and made their way to the door.
My heart pounded as every other person in the hall remained still, barely breathing until they had each exited the room. As the last closed the door behind them, chatter resumed as sweat pooled at the base of my spine.
“Well,” Thetius smacked his hand against his knee. “That went as well as could be expected. Should we have dessert? It shall give me the opportunity to tell you of Stormsong and Ashweaver.”
“Were those the brothers’ names?” My voice was hoarse. The Scala are here…They won’t help us. What are we to do?
I looked at Dainan, lost in thought or a memory.
Now something else is searching for us? A reason? A reason for what?
“Of course not, dear girl.” He cleared his throat, “Now, Ashweaver was the largest of the dragons, but the scrappiest, oh that was Stormsong, and what songs did she sing…”