by RJ Metcalf
A glass of water later, he sat on a stool behind the counter, eager to dive into the letter. He used a knife from his boot to slit the envelope open, and then slipped out a small stack of paper, pleased to see how thick the stack of pages was.
Finn allowed himself to be immersed, enjoying the update from his son. He paused after reading a line. Tilting his head, he re-read it, just to be sure:
“We found an abandoned baby girl while on our evening walk the other day. The town doctor is guessing she’s about nine months old or so. It’s hard to tell with babies. She can sit up and is clearly determined to learn to stand. Maria and I named her Raine, as she was found the same day we had a torrential downpour. Father, you have to come visit us soon. We’ve decided to officially adopt Raine, as no one out here recognizes her. As best we can tell, she was abandoned. I can’t fathom why, as she is a very docile, pleasant baby. As much as I want to know what parents would leave their daughter, we are overjoyed to take her in as ours.”
The page blurred, and Finn wiped at his eyes, smiling at the paper in his hand.
He looked up at his herbs and started calculating the baby’s—his granddaughter’s—age, trying to estimate when she would be needing pain relieving remedies for her teething.
No matter. He’d bring all he could. He pulled out a pad of paper and started jotting down what to pack. The timing was perfect. He could visit Connor and Maria, meet little Raine, and avoid anyone trying to watch him.
He’d just talk to Slate and Zane about either of them watching the shop for him, and he’d leave for Connor’s within the week.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Brandon
Brandon closed the door to the grand dining hall as quietly as possible, then darted across the wide space, aiming straight for the kitchen. He’d made it this far without being spotted, and he was going to get a cinnamon roll yet.
The sound of clattering cutlery sent him spinning on his heel, scanning the long tables for the source of the noise. Who would be in here when it wasn’t a meal time? Richard. Of course. He wore a wrinkled deep blue vest. His unruly hair stuck out in every direction, and he hunched over a mostly empty plate.
He’d essentially gone into hiding the hour after his engagement to Violet was announced, rarely showing up for meals with the family, instead having meals delivered to his room, and returning them to the kitchen, barely touched.
No sign of Louis, Richard’s attendant, so he must’ve been shouted away. Brandon hesitated. What mood was Richard in?
Brandon cast a look of regret toward the kitchen, then approached his brother. “I’m surprised to see you up and about.” The words left his mouth without permission, and he winced. That wasn’t what he’d been rehearsing to say when he next saw his brother. Not even close.
Richard didn’t look up from his plate right away, but when he did, his gray eyes smoldered with something Brandon couldn’t identify. He looked at Brandon for an eternally long moment before turning back to his plate and lifting his mug to his lips. “I do need to eat, you know.”
“True. Very true.” Brandon thought quickly, trying to figure out a way to backtrack from his first unintended greeting. Sapphire would find something gracious to say and steer the conversation to a better place. But the whole point of coming to the kitchen now had been to sneak a snack without her. He rested his hand on the back of the chair next to Richard. “Had I known you were down here, I would have come earlier to join you.”
Richard glanced over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “Sneaking snacks when Sapphire isn’t around to scold you?”
“One, I don’t sneak. That implies that I would get in trouble if I were caught by Sapphire.” Richard continued to give Brandon his deadpan, unimpressed look. “And two, I wouldn’t be in trouble with her per se. She would want whatever I was having, and then she’d complain about losing baby weight later. So I’m doing us both a favor by having a snack when she isn’t around me.”
“By sneaking. Right.” Richard shook his head, hair swishing with the movement. “Good luck with that when she catches you.”
“Unless someone tattles on me, I should be safe, thanks.” Brandon flipped his own deep blue coattails out of the way before sitting in a chair next to Richard. He studied the circles under his brother’s eyes and the slight pallor of his skin. “How are you doing?”
Any lightheartedness in Richard’s features disappeared at the question. His eyes dropped to the lacquered table, and his fist clenched around his mug. “I’m surviving.” Richard raised his shoulders a fraction and then dropped them in a burdened shrug. “Enjoying my solitude while I can. Avoiding people.”
“We’ve noticed.” Brandon replied, his heart twisting at the pain on his brothers face. “Why? We want to support you, but we don’t know how.”
“What do people care?” Richard snarled, causing Brandon to jump. “All people want is a big party. Something to remember, something to make them forget what happened last year.” Richard looked at Brandon through strands of dirty hair, his eyes wild and burning, haunted. “To them, it’s an excuse to dress up and party. They don’t care what I’m feeling. They don’t care that the law”—Richard spat the word as if it were filthy—“is requiring me to replace my wife within a year of her death. I can’t replace her. She was my everything!”
Brandon floundered, leaning back from Richard’s rage. Richard was talking public opinion, Brandon had been talking family. They definitely weren’t on the same page. Brandon spoke with a soft but confident tone, trying to channel Sapphire’s diplomacy. “Not everyone is excited, you know. There are plenty of people who are concerned about the whole thing. People who worry about you.”
Richard grunted.
“At least she’s somewhat similar to Rose?” Brandon offered hesitantly.
Even as he was saying it, Brandon watched Richard’s face darken and felt the doom he had just unleashed upon himself.
Richard exploded. “Do you realize how much worse it is that they’re similar?” Richard glared at him then looked away, seething. “Bad enough for them to look alike. But even some of her mannerisms are like Rose’s!”
A small noise from the doorway distracted Brandon away from his brother. He whipped his head around to the left to see who was coming in. Slate stood there awkwardly, looking between the two of them with an expression that clearly stated his own surprise. Brandon turned back to face Richard when he started talking again.
“Imagine, if you will.” Richard’s voice was low and intense, glaring at a chair across from him as if it had offended him somehow. He didn’t seem to be aware that Slate was in the room. “Imagine that Sapphire had died last month. Imagine that they had poisoned Adeline too. Imagine that you lost both of them, and then you were required to marry Garnet a year later. Not even a full year later! And not only do you have to deal with the public who think it’s such a great thing, but you keep getting reminded again and again: the whole purpose of getting re-married is so you can have an heir. I had an heir. With my wife. And now she’s dead.”
Richard’s initial burst of anger reduced to a crackling smolder. “I don’t want a lookalike around me every day to remind me of what I lost. I don’t want to consider anything intimate with my wife’s sister. And I despise the idea of having to get married so soon! Whatever happened to the two-year minimum for grieving, anyhow?” Rant over, Richard fell quiet, pushing away his plate with a heavy sigh. His eyes flicked to Brandon briefly. “Enjoy your wife while you have her.”
Brandon closed his mouth, breathing through the wave of nausea that passed through his gut at the idea of losing both Sapphire and Adeline, then having to marry Garnet. He loved Garnet, but she was a sister to him. Not … he’d never thought of it quite from that perspective before.
He heard a noise again and glanced back toward Slate. The doorway was empty. How much did he hear?
Brandon slouched in his chair and rubbed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t considered it like—”
“Don’t start.” Richard cut in. “I don’t want your sympathy or compassion. I just want this over with.”
There was nothing to do but nod mutely.
Silence descended on the room, heavy and stifling. Brandon suffocated in the awful quiet.
Bzzzz Bzzzz
Bzzzz Bzzzz
Richard silenced the unexpected alarm with a touch to his pocket watch. He silently opened a small pouch on his belt that Brandon hadn’t seen before and pulled out two off-white tablets, which he slipped into his mouth and washed down with a single gulp from his mug. He glanced over and noticed Brandon’s puzzled expression. “Antidepressants.” Richard stated with a minute shrug. “Doctor Jaxton prescribed them a few months ago. Really has helped. How have you not noticed before?”
“I … I don’t know. But this is the first time I’ve seen you with them.” Brandon admitted. “So they help you?”
Richard offered a real shrug this time. “They haven’t hurt, and I can sleep now. I’ll take what I can get.”
“I’m glad they help then.”
“Yeah.” Richard stood and pushed his chair back. “I’m going to get some rest. See you.”
Brandon mourned silently as Richard walked out the door. While he understood that Richard had gone through so much loss in the last year, Brandon missed the easy laughter, the responsible-yet-lighthearted personality that his brother had once had. Their mother had told Brandon to wait, as time would heal the wounds scarring Richard’s heart, but as of the moment, all time had done was shrivel Richard into a walking wound, oozing pain and anger.
He stood with a groan and a sideways glance at the kitchen. There was no appetite left for a snack.
* * *
Brandon meandered through the palace without a goal in mind, arms clasped behind his back. The warm amber walls of the hallways helped to ease his agitation some as he ignored those he passed, lost in thought. A baby’s giggle halted him. He turned towards the sound, smiling when he realized it came from the open door of the play room.
The sight before him soothed the last of the ache from his soul. Blocks, dolls, balls, play clothes, and soft books were scattered throughout the room, Sapphire, Adeline, and Clara seated on the floor in the midst of it.
Sapphire held Adeline in her lap while Clara lifted a porous stone block to the precariously balanced tower of wood and stone blocks before them. Brandon leaned against the doorway, content to observe without their knowledge. Adeline reached out for the tower and Sapphire shifted her closer to it. Adeline’s fist knocked into a block, and the entire creation collapsed, the blocks tinkling and chiming as they bounced to the floor. Adeline loosed a squeal of delight, and Brandon’s low chuckle joined the laughter of the ladies.
Clara noticed him first. She respectfully inclined her head—the best she could do while sitting on the floor—and he nodded back. She was almost an adopted family member, really. That she was a trusted friend and confidant of his wife was also a boon. No need for stiff formalities with her.
“Oh! Brandon! Were you skulking in the doorway again?” Sapphire exclaimed with a surprised, yet amused laugh. She motioned him in. “Come, sit and join us. We’re teaching Adeline about noise and music and architecture.”
“Poor architecture, you mean.” Clara injected with a laugh.
“Bah, it’s still architecture.” Sapphire waved her hand dismissively. “Details, details. There’s still noise and music!” She used her free hand to push some blocks towards Brandon. “Your turn to build something.”
Brandon eased himself to the carpeted floor and crossed his legs under him. He focused on a stone block and double tapped it. It started playing the opening line of a familiar nursery rhyme. “This will be the pinnacle of the tower, so when it falls,” Brandon leaned over and made a face at Adeline before kissing her on the nose, “it will make music for us.”
He built the tower up in relaxed silence. He could feel Sapphire’s sharp gaze on him, and he braced himself for questioning.
“Slate dropped in briefly before you came by,” she said finally. “He didn’t stay for long though. He seemed disturbed. Don’t suppose you have any idea why?”
“Ah …” He put the final block on top of the tower before he sighed and looked over at her. “I ran into Richard. We talked. Slate came by during our conversation and overheard part of it. I’m not sure how much, but I’m sure he wasn’t expecting it either. Richard said some things that are making me think a bit more from his perspective now.”
Clara cocked her head, her blonde curls falling off her shoulder as her lips twisted. She looked at Sapphire with a soft expression, and Sapphire held her gaze for several heartbeats before looking at Brandon.
“Did Richard know Slate was there?” Sapphire asked. “And what is his perspective that you now understand more?”
Brandon twisted to avoid knocking over his tower and stretched out his legs. He reclined on his elbows before allowing himself to just fall on his back with a slight grunt. “No, Richard didn’t notice him at all. And he gave me quite a few different perspectives actually.” Brandon scrubbed his palms against his eyes. “He also gave me a unique viewpoint on what it’s like, him having to marry Rose’s sister. I feel bad for him, but I know there’s nothing I can do about it.”
Sapphire sighed as she hugged Adeline. She gently set the baby down between them, propping her against Brandon’s side. Adeline pulled a chubby fist out of her mouth and patted Brandon’s stomach, drool from her hand soaking his silk vest.
“I don’t know what we can do for him,” Sapphire whispered. “It would take a miracle for the wedding to be called off.”
Clara’s voice was so soft, Brandon almost didn’t hear her. “Or a tragedy to delay it.”
Brandon stared at Adeline’s barely there curls, contemplative until Clara’s words sank in. He lifted his hand off his face to look at her. “Say again?”
Clara’s face turned red as she winced. “I’d rather not.”
He kept a hand on Adeline to keep her stable while he sat up and faced his wife’s bodyguard. “Please do.”
“There’s some speculation going around that you won’t like.” Clara chewed her lip and gave him an apologetic look. “If you really want, I’ll share.”
Concern etched Sapphire’s face as she looked between him and Clara. She reached out and touched Clara’s shoulder. “Please. Speculation about what?”
Their friend winced. “You being poisoned.”
Sapphire drew back slightly. “But they figured out who it was.” Her voice quieted, pain lacing her words. “They finished the investigation. It was Bodrik.”
“Yes, they finished the investigation.” Clara agreed. “But there are those who think it was … wrong. They have a few theories, but one is specifically unpleasant.” Her eyes turned to Brandon. “And it involves Richard.”
Chapter Thirty
Zak
Zak clutched his dust rag and pail of water as he surveyed the sizeable citadel library. It wasn’t as massive as the palace library, but it was still dauntingly large—especially in the face of chores and cleaning everything. But it was also a grand opportunity to search the room for any hint of secret passageways or the like. So far, his bedroom, the classrooms, and the armory all proved to have nothing.
Bookcases lined the walls, and more bookcases filled the center of the room, plush emerald chairs scattered in sets around the edges of the room. Large rugs carpeted the floor to cushion sound and invoke a cozy feeling. End tables with luminary crystal lamps sat between each pair of chairs, providing closer light for the older, harder to read manuscripts gathering dust in the bottom shelves.
Deciding to work from the entry door in, he attacked the lower shelves within his reach and moved down the aisle, looking for anything that screamed “secret passage here!” He doubled back to drag a chair with him so he could reach the taller shelves. Thick dust showed where certain sections (like the fundamentals of wall building) were ignored
, and where other sections (like the making of the barrier) were perused regularly.
It wasn’t until Zak was on the final aisle that he had to admit to himself that maybe there weren’t any secret passages hiding behind the shelves. He sighed and jumped off the chair he’d been balancing on, then dipped his rag into the bucket and squeezed the excess water out.
That older man had proven that the palace had at least one secret passage. There had to be more. And Zak would find it. Eventually.
He knelt between a chair and a golden-wood table, running the damp rag under the table edge, then over the dusty white lamp. He lifted it carefully to get the bottom rim, then paused, curious. There, at the bottom, nestled in a groove, was a tiny deep red crystal that blended in with the wood base. How did that get there? Was it on purpose? He ran his thumb over the cool, smooth stone. A small current of electricity jumped from his thumb to the lamp, causing the russet crystal to flare brightly, then dim to a sullen red glow.
He stared at it, then hastily put the lamp back. Whatever that was, he didn’t want to get in trouble for playing with something he shouldn’t. He looked up and his jaw dropped.
Directly in front of him, a bookshelf was disappearing. It swung back on silent hinges, sliding behind the other bookshelves as it revealed a dark hallway.
He’d found one. He actually found one! Zak hopped from foot to foot in excitement. Wouldn’t Zane be surprised? Zak tossed his rag into the bucket of gray water and rushed to the dark hallway, inspecting how the bookshelf just slid back to open up. He stepped fearlessly into the passage, turning around to face the bright library. Would the passage close on its own? Did it have a crystal switch on the side, so anyone in the passage could open it from this side? He ran his fingers along the brick wall, searching. Midway up the textured wall, his fingers found a smooth lump that flared in the darkness, then fell quiet in a muted glow. He jumped back as the bookcase slid soundlessly out in front of him, blocking the library—and the light.
