Family of Lies: Sebastian

by Sam Argent

  Sebastian didn’t want to answer because he hadn’t decided if Turren’s courtship was the genuine interest of a man or misguided admiration that had failed to dispel after childhood. Either way, it was hard to think with a hand cradling the middle of his back and Turren’s chest flush with his own. Wait a…. “When did you get this close?” Sebastian tried to squirm out of Turren’s grasp, but their close proximity made it hard to accomplish. “Damn you, let me go!” he hissed.

  “Shush. The others are enjoying our dance, and you should do the same,” Turren advised while pressing Sebastian tighter against him, but having the decency to keep the smallest fraction of air between their lower extremities.

  Sebastian frowned and surveyed the rest of the room that had fallen still and given the prince the illusion of privacy on the floor. Sebastian was accustomed to dislike, disgust, pity, but not the emotion that schooled the well-bred lords’ and ladies’ faces into tight smiles: envy. Sebastian sighed and lowered his head onto Turren’s shoulder. “You’re going to get me killed,” he said when his eyes fell upon the only true smile in the hall, which, while beautiful, was the most terrifying omen of them all: his mother’s.

  CHAPTER 12

  SEBASTIAN DIDN’T knock away the knee that rested against his own while he and Turren sorted through magical tomes and artifacts. “They let you stroll out of Anerith with this much treasure?”

  “Arguments over their ownership started to flare. They couldn’t afford another civil war.” Turren placed his hand gently on Sebastian’s knee and paused when Sebastian faced him. “There is a strange mood about you today. You’re not annoyed with me, but you’re also not closer. Why?”

  Sebastian tapped his fingers on his book, but he didn’t lower his eyes from the sapphire gaze. “I think I’m being cruel to you.”

  Turren closed the book on his lap. “Mean, brusque, but not cruel.”

  “I’m not talking about my behavior in general, though I will admit being more confrontational than necessary. No, I’m being cruel because I’m giving you false hope.”

  “They may not be as strong as mine, but I know you have feelings for me too.”

  “That’s not enough.”

  “It’s a small thing to you, Bastian, but it means as much to me as Larnlyon does.” Determination shined in his dark blue eyes. “My family will not interfere, and I don’t care that you’re not a lord or first in your line. Tell me the curse which ails you and I will fix it.”

  Sebastian pulled away and scrambled to his feet. “I didn’t like you playing knight when we were kids, and I don’t like it now.”

  Turren stood up with more grace than Sebastian and crossed his arms. “Whatever you say, I will not withdraw my courtship.”

  “Friendship or nothing,” Sebastian demanded and twisted away when Turren grabbed his shoulder. “I will ride home today, assassins or no assassins if your answer is anything other than friendship.” Sebastian watched Turren drop his hand to his side. “I want your answer soon, Prince Turren. Don’t you care about my well-being?”

  Turren bowed and reached for Sebastian’s hand. “I swear upon my future crown that I shall obey your request until you deem me worthy of being more than an ally and strong enough to be your husband.” He straightened. “Are you satisfied?”

  Sebastian sighed. “Adequate, but using your father’s or Captain Pembrost’s authority to find out ‘my curse’ is cheating.”

  Turren tilted his head. “Agreed, as long as you don’t deny me the right to find out what ails my friend.”

  “Agreed.” Turren didn’t release Sebastian’s hand after they shook on their promise. “You can let go of me.” Sebastian removed his hand forcefully. He rubbed it down his cloak so he could forget Turren’s touch and walked toward the door. “I need a break, and I’ll return in an hour.” He escaped into the hallway, where he nearly collided with a servant carrying their meals. “Sorry. I’ll take my plate and goblet from your hands. I’m going to eat in my room.” Sebastian took his share from the man, and a hint of sweet Mena ivy tickled his nose. The scent grew stronger as he lifted the cup.

  Sebastian looked at the servant and dropped to the floor just as a blade sank into the door where his head used to be. He yanked on his assailant’s pants as hard as he could and scuttled on all fours backward while the other man tried to pull his pants up. Sebastian opened his mouth to yell, but the assassin lunged at him with a second knife. Sebastian dodged it just as the door jerked open. Turren stood in the doorway with his sword at the ready. He stalked to their attacker, but the man shouted a spell that threw the prince onto his back. Boots could be heard down the hall, and the man turned to flee.

  Not a chance in hell, bastard. Sebastian whispered to a wooden table in the man’s path, and a vine snatched the assassin off his feet as he passed by. The assassin lay prone on the floor, and blood pooled across the marble.

  “That was Anerithian magic he shouted at me,” Turren said as he got to his feet and castle guards descended on the hallway.

  “There was another attack near the main library,” Captain Pembrost said as he joined them. He moved Prince Turren and Sebastian to a wall for privacy. “They tried to take one of the books, but I was nearby and stopped the theft. What happened here?”

  Turren tightened his fingers on his sword. “I saw the knife go through the door and ran to Sebastian’s aid. I tried to open the door, but the knife warded it shut.”

  “Then he came bumbling out into the middle of it and almost got himself killed,” Sebastian said.

  “I was ready. I made my own ward before I finally got the door opened or that spell would have done more than knock me down,” Turren said.

  “I just don’t see how he tripped and fell on his knife,” Captain Pembrost said after glancing at the body.

  “It was a fortunate turn of events, Captain. You should take it as a blessing that Prince Turren was uninjured,” Sebastian said, hoping Captain Pembrost would stop contemplating the assassin’s strange death.

  “A blessing….” Captain Pembrost squinted at the assassin’s leg. “And perhaps intervention,” he muttered.

  Sebastian followed the captain’s gaze and spied a piece of twig twisted around an ankle.

  Turren turned to the body and frowned. “What do the two of you see?”

  “Nothing. Captain Pembrost is being annoyingly efficient.” Sebastian gave the body a final look, knowing he had no choice in his action, and dismissed any guilt from his mind. “This excitement is tiresome, so—”

  “Let me through! If my son is harmed!” Lord Orwell’s voice carried over to Sebastian.

  “Both of our sons are unharmed. There is no need to make a spectacle of yourself,” King Harris berated Lord Orwell.

  The three of them raised their heads to find Lord Orwell and King Harris standing next to each other.

  “I should have moved faster.” Sebastian groaned.

  “Sebastian!” Lord Orwell glared at King Harris when the guards blocked their path.

  “Captain Pembrost,” King Harris said.

  “This area is cleared of spells. It should be safe to enter, Your Majesty.”

  The guards dispersed to the side and let them pass.

  “Aah!” Sebastian was captured in Lord Orwell’s arms and hunched his shoulders when his head pressed into Lord Orwell’s chest. He had been trained by one of the most powerful wizards in Larnlyon. He could recite the whole book of Selene’s Secrets, mend a wound with twine and needle, drop to the ground and roll to douse his body if covered in flames, but Sebastian was stumped by the fact that his father was hugging him. He awkwardly circled his arms around Lord Orwell and allowed the embrace to tighten.

  “There, there, my son. It’s all right, you’re safe now.” Lord Orwell grasped Sebastian’s shoulders and took a step back so he could glare at Turren. “No thanks to him! That’s twice he owes you his life and you were nearly killed.”

  King Harris frowned at the accusation. “My son is not r
esponsible, but I will find out who is. Fred—”

  “I’m right here, Harris.” The court wizard bent over the body, examining tattoos under the assassin’s tunic. “Both of you are lucky to be alive,” he said while dropping the cloth and standing. “A Deathsmith, and trained in Jesaro by the looks of it.”

  Lord Orwell sucked in his breath. “Gather your siblings. We’re leaving.”

  Sebastian blinked. “I doubt—”

  “Silence, and do as I say!” Lord Orwell shouted.

  Sebastian usually stood his ground, but his father was sweating, and he could almost smell the fear wafting off him. “Yes, Father.”

  “THE ASSASSIN did not succeed, and King Harris has called all of his wizards to the castle. I see no reason to leave,” Lady Orwell said while grasping for the bag in her husband’s hand.

  Lord Orwell tossed it into the carriage with the rest of their belongings, and Lady Orwell stared glumly at the castle whose rich comforts they were abandoning.

  “We may not have another chance like this. Why are you throwing it away?” Lady Orwell blocked the carriage door with her body while the Orwell offspring watched with mixed expressions of embarrassment and anger.

  “Why do we have to leave too?” Alice whined as she sat atop her wagon with her husband and children.

  “One more complaint and I will show you that while my magic is nearly gone, I know how to use it effectively.” Lord Orwell’s brown eyes flared, and his family grew quiet.

  “He actually looks threatening,” Kevin whispered to James.

  “He’s afraid. Do as he says for now, and we’ll find out the truth later,” James whispered back.

  “For now, but that bastard and I will have words when we reach the house,” Diana promised grimly.

  Lord Orwell’s eyes hardened on his youngest son, and Sebastian wondered what he had done wrong until strong fingers squeezed his forearm.

  “I wanted to say good-bye.” Turren smiled shyly, and ignoring Lord Orwell’s glare he led Sebastian off to the side.

  Sebastian sighed. “As a friend wishing me a safe journey?”

  “For now.”

  Sebastian shook his head. “You have your pick of royalty and you choose a man with a mind-addled family. I fear for Larnlyon’s future if you don’t make better decisions.”

  “If you have no feelings for me, I will drop my courtship and leave you in peace.”

  “Did you know that you rub your thumb on your thigh whenever you lie?” Sebastian asked.

  Turren grinned. “That answers my question. An uninterested man never would have noticed.” Turren slipped his fingers to Sebastian’s wrist. “You have an open invitation to the castle as my personal guest, so please don’t wait years to visit again.”

  “I guess that’s safer than waiting for you to be stabbed again. Fine, I’ll see you again in a month or two when I’m due to see Harold—as a friend.”

  “Thank you. Also, did you see what the assassin tripped over?” Turren asked. “It’s been bothering me all day.”

  “No. I have to leave before the guards think my father is trying to curse you.” Sebastian turned his back on Turren and hoped his worry over their companionship wasn’t justified.

  “WHY ARE we traveling at night?” Lady Orwell complained. “This makes no sense if you’re so concerned about our safety.”

  “A night out in the woods is safer than the castle,” Lord Orwell said without taking his eyes off the road.

  Sebastian listened to his mother snipe at his father for the first half of the trip, but Lord Orwell remained stubbornly curt. He heard Ophelia grunt behind him and looked to see Kraven helping her regain her balance.

  “Father, the pace is too fast,” James chastised.

  “We should rest,” Kevin suggested.

  “No.” Lord Orwell shook his head. “We’ll slow down, but we are not stopping.”

  “If you were worried, then we should have taken the guards that King Harris offered.” Lady Orwell impatiently ran a hand through her hair, which had come undone from their hard travel.

  “Sebastian saved Prince Turren’s life, and the king gave him an escort into the city. That is all. The king is no longer obligated to us, so we will have nothing to do with him from now on. We did our duty,” Lord Orwell said firmly.

  “I don’t recall that being your decision,” Sebastian spoke up.

  “That is because you’re the most foolish of my children,” Lord Orwell said.

  Sebastian snorted. “I—” Or he meant to say that except that no sound came out of his mouth. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, keeping his temper and trying not to reveal his magic by displacing the spell. Diana touched his hand holding the reins, and Sebastian’s voice returned with a squeak.

  “Father, that was rude,” Ophelia said.

  “So is speaking back to your parents. Enough, all of you. We’ll talk when we’re out of the woods and away from curious ears.” Lord Orwell ended the argument.

  CHAPTER 13

  “THAT ASS is avoiding us,” Diana said while daylight faded. “He said nothing last night, and if he thinks I’ll let him get away with it twice, he is mistaken.”

  “Drink your tea. You don’t need any more wrinkles,” Lady Orwell advised. “How is it that you have more wrinkles than I do? People always wonder if you are my mother.”

  “James, why did you let Father run away to purchase a damned table?” Diana ignored their mother.

  “I didn’t let him do anything. The kitchen table was broken when I came downstairs, and he shoved a pot of an unfinished potion into my arms. I wasn’t dumb enough to drop it so I could chase after him. What was that potion anyways?” James grumbled.

  “Scrying potion,” Lady Orwell said while stirring more sugar into her cup.

  “Why can’t he use a mirror like normal people?” Kevin asked.

  Their mother kept stirring but said nothing.

  “You need a big pot of potion when you’re scrying for something far away or someone who doesn’t want to be found.” Diana smiled sweetly at their mother. “A person with that kind of potion usually isn’t scrying for anything respectable.”

  “Yes, bitterness will definitely add wrinkles,” Lady Orwell snarled at Diana.

  Diana squinted at her. “You know, I think you have a point.”

  “Demetrius and Pratchett caught fish,” Ophelia said cheerfully as she loudly climbed down the stairs. The door opened and they stepped inside, apparently not surprised that their appearance had been expected. Food brokered a temporary peace, and Sebastian helped clean the fish with his other brothers who hadn’t caught their supper.

  “DO ALL of you have to stare at me while I eat?” Caspian Orwell asked while lifting his fork to his mouth. He had stomped in not long after the fish had been cooked and divvied up.

  “Diana says you’re using questionable spells,” Pratchett said without any regard to the glob of meat still in his mouth.

  Lord Orwell rolled his eyes. “It’s not questionable but rarely used nowadays.”

  “Name one respectable wizard who’s used it recently?” Diana asked but waved the question away. “Never mind, just tell us what you were doing.”

  “Where’s Alice?” Their father put down his fork and tilted his ear for any sounds of the unruly brood.

  “She’s letting the kids run around outside for her sanity.” Lady Orwell pulled a pipe out of her bodice and snapped her fingers at Diana.

  “There’re matches in the cabinets.” Diana leaned against the kitchen wall and raised a brow.

  Lady Orwell reached into her pocket again and withdrew a pouch. She tumbled a small bit into her pipe and rolled her eyes. “Please, Diana.”

  Diana pushed away from the wall and walked to their mother’s chair. She held out her hand, and Lady Orwell gave her the pipe. “Why do you have an enchanted pipe when you always use up your magic?” Diana asked after heating the bowl and returning the pipe.

  “Appearances are everything, and
it pains me that you still don’t understand the necessities that gave you a roof over your head.” Lady Orwell inhaled deeply and released a green cloud into the air.

  “I’m beginning to wonder if those necessities will put a noose or an ax around Father’s neck,” Sebastian mumbled.

  “With the exception of a few instances of blackmail, I’ve kept my master’s oaths,” Lord Orwell said. “I wasn’t foolish enough to linger when they started planning capital crimes.”

  James sat down and buried his head in his hands. “I don’t think I want to be here.”

  “Father isn’t perfect, but he is a good man when it counts.” Ophelia placed her hand on Lord Orwell’s shoulder.

  Lord Orwell patted Ophelia’s hand and chuckled. “Yes, I did do the right thing so many years ago. That may lead to all of our deaths.”

  “There was no reason for you to fetch me like a disorderly child!” Alice’s angry voice rang through the house.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt you and Mernon. Ow!” Kevin cried out at the tramp of several feet.

  “You piece of shit!” Alice shrieked.

  Children’s gasps filled the entrance, and Lady Orwell rubbed her temples.

  “Please stop teasing my wife, Kevin,” Mernon asked quietly.

  Lord Orwell looked at the kitchen table and then toward the entrance. “Why did we have so many?” Before his sons and daughters could voice their retorts, he shouted, “Alice, send your children upstairs and bring Mernon into the kitchen with you!”

  Several complaints rose up from Sebastian’s nephews and nieces, but Alice quickly shushed them and dragged her unwilling children upstairs. Moments later, she entered the kitchen with Mernon and Kevin at her back. “All of us have assembled to hear your crimes, Father,” she said while Mernon untangled two chairs from a stack blocking the window.