Gib opted to clear his throat. At the sound, Koal whirled about, his crimson cape billowing around his shoulders. Gib was pretty sure his own face was the same shade of red as he jumped back in his seat and stammered a polite greeting. “G–good evening, Lord Adelwijn. I’m sorry if I gave you a fright—”
Koal relaxed his tense stance when he seemed to recognize Gib. “Likewise. Apologies, little one.” The seneschal’s voice was tired but not unpleasant. “I didn’t realize anyone would still be awake this late.” Bringing a hand through his short raven hair, Koal stepped closer, the light cast by the fireplace illuminating the small creases around his mouth and eyes. “It’s Gibben, right?”
The sentinel trainee nodded. “Yes. Gibben Nemesio, sir.”
“Is Joel awake as well?”
“No, sir. He retired a bit ago. I was just practicing my reading.”
One of Koal’s dark eyebrows twitched. He motioned toward the book in Gib’s lap. “Is that Tales of Fae?”
“Oh, uh—yes,” Gib replied. He winced when realizing it was possible the seneschal didn’t approve of him “borrowing” the Adelwijn family’s possessions. “S–sorry, Joel said it would be all right if I read it while I’m here. I can put it away if—if you’d prefer, sir.”
Koal raised both hands in front of him. “Oh, I wasn’t implying you stop. By the light of Daya, you have to be the only first-year student I’ve seen practicing his studies outside of Academy.” The seneschal fixed Gib with a warm smile. “I was merely curious. It has been several years since any of my children have dusted the cobwebs off that book.”
“Joel wanted to help me with my reading.” Gib blinked with surprise when the seneschal settled down into a cushioned chair across the room but continued on tentatively. “As you might imagine, I, uh—I didn’t have much time for reading before I came to Silver City.”
“You hail from Willowdale, yes?”
“My family’s farm is within a dozen leagues of the village, sir.” Is he going to stay and talk to me? Gib fidgeted in his seat. It seemed odd that someone as important and busy as Koal Adelwijn was taking the time to chat with him.
Clever eyes gleamed in the waning light as the seneschal took his time replying. “I recall Willowdale being quite charming, as most farming communities tend to be. It’s been a long while since I journeyed through those parts of Arden though.” Gib was surprised to hear a soft chuckle rise from the seneschal’s chest. “Of course, it’s been a long while since I’ve journeyed beyond the inner walls of Silver City. I sometimes feel as though I may as well pitch a tent inside the palace for as much time as I spend there.”
Gib didn’t know what to say, so he opted to stare at the floor. What could he say? What could he possibly have in common with the seneschal of Arden, the second most powerful man in the realm? Why was Koal even bothering to converse with him at all?
“I’m sorry you weren’t able to make the journey to see your family,” the seneschal continued before the silence had a chance to overwhelm the room.
Gib’s stomach churned. “I miss them.”
“I’m sure they miss you as well.” Koal leaned forward in his chair, and Gib noted how the seneschal’s eyes sparkled the same as Joel’s. “Your mother and father must be proud of you for being so brave.”
Gib grimaced, his eyes boring into the marbled floor. “Ma and Pa are both dead. It’s just my sister, two younger brothers, and me left.”
Koal’s face pinched. “I’m sorry to hear that.” After an uncomfortable pause, his tenor voice came again softly. “Both of my parents died while I was still a boy as well. I was all of fourteen when my father made the journey. My mother followed behind him only three cycles thereafter. At the time, my brother was all of six wheelturns and my sister had only just seen her second Naming Day ceremony. I know how difficult it can be to be left in charge of younglings.”
Gib wasn’t sure if he was overstepping his boundaries, but the words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them. “I didn’t want to leave my brothers to fate! It’s the draft—I mean, uh, not that I don’t want to serve Arden, but—”
Koal held up a hand, shaking his head. “No, no. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Serving in the army is no menial task and the decision to do so should not be taken lightly—nor should it be forced upon anyone.”
Gib looked down at his hands to hide his shame. “I truly mean not to complain, Seneschal. I know the safety of Arden is a concern for any who live within its borders. If only my brothers weren’t so young and alone—” He stopped there, not wanting to bother Koal. Surely the seneschal had many other worries, far grander than this, concerning him.
Koal leaned back in his chair and set his mouth in a thin line, eyes reflecting deep thought. “It would be cold comfort to you, if any at all, but I promise there are people who support you. There are several of us, myself and the King included, who agree the draft is set at too young an age. Rishi ventures as far to say that it is entirely unnecessary—” He seemed to catch himself there and sighed. “Forgive me. King Rishi.”
Gib swallowed. “Sir, do you know if the law is going to change? Will my brother also be called to fight?”
Koal frowned and shifted his eyes to the side. “I would like to tell you no, but the truth is that I don’t know yet. It is unlikely considering how hard the King is fighting against it and many of us stand with him, but I’ve seen many unfair things come to pass. I’m sorry.”
The truth was like a stone in Gib’s stomach. He tried to swallow but couldn’t. He tried to speak but nothing would come out. He could think of nothing but how he should be there with Tayver and Calisto. If only Gib could do something for them. He sighed and closed his book.
Koal looked over at the noise, his face lined with trouble. “Apologies. It was not my intention to put you off from your studies.”
Gib shook his head. “No. I should be off to bed anyway. Joel will no doubt tutor me tomorrow.” He didn’t know what else to say and was sure both of them knew the words were a lie. He wanted to go to bed so he could worry in private. However, Gib had been unprepared for the way Koal’s eyes lit up when his son’s name was mentioned. If Gib’s father were still alive, would he have looked the same when Gib’s name was mentioned? Would the same instant and undeniable pride flash behind his father’s eyes?
Gib decided to linger a moment longer. “Joel has been a lot of help. I’d never have been able to find my way around without him.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Koal paused, leaving his mouth slightly ajar. “Forgive me for having to ask, but how is Joel faring? I’m afraid I don’t get to see any of my children as much as I would like, least of all my two eldest.”
Warmth blossomed on Gib’s cheeks, but he didn’t hesitate to respond. “Joel is doing well. We’ve become good friends. He’s one of the kindest people I’ve met.”
“It’s good he has opened up to someone. After what happened last year, I feared he—” Koal swallowed, jaw set in a firm line. “I feared he wouldn’t recover.”
“Joel is stronger than most men. To face such adversity and still be willing to extend hospitality to a poor, uneducated farm boy is a testament to that.”
The seneschal gave a stiff nod. “Adversity, from his friends and family, nonetheless. It is unjust how Joel has been treated.”
Gib winced, but what could he say? It was all true. If the hurtful words spoken by Liro and Annwyne were any indication of the tribulations Joel had endured the previous year—
Koal sighed, turning his stark eyes toward the fire. “I feel it is my duty to apologize to you for the behavior displayed by my brother and eldest son during the feast.”
“Oh, you don’t need to apologize, sir,” Gib protested. “Regardless of what happened, I’m grateful for the hospitality you showed by allowing me to dine at your table.”
Koal shook his head as he replied, “No. It was wrong of them to be so callous. I wish I was able to say you caught them both on
a bad day, but I’m afraid Liro and Neetra are very much the coldhearted highborns you were no doubt cautioned to avoid.” His voice caught.
Gib wasn’t sure how to respond. He didn’t want to come across as rude, but the seneschal’s words were true. Gib tried to keep his tone respectful. “I, uh, not all highborns are the same, sir. Just as all lowborns aren’t either. I’m quickly finding that each man earns his own merits.”
Koal nodded. “Very good. You are wise beyond your years.”
“I’ve had a lot of growing up to do, sir.” Gib’s breath was ragged, and he made a conscious effort to calm it. “As has Joel. Perhaps that is why he and Liro are so different.” Gib winced at his own buffoonery. What possessed him to be so presumptuous?
Koal’s voice came out in halted, reserved bouts. “They’re terribly different. We weren’t always so broken, you know. We were a family once—before Liro began to pull away.” He rubbed his face, the fine lines suddenly more prominent. “I don’t know where I went wrong with him.”
Gib’s knuckles hurt as he belatedly realized he was wringing his hands. How long had he been doing that? Probably from the moment he’d realized he was in over his head and about to keep talking when he should shut up. “It’s not your doing, Seneschal. Each man earns his own merit, after all. You set the best example you could for your children.”
Koal shook his head with a wry smile. “You presume a lot, young one.”
Gib bit his lower lip. The rational part of him knew he should fall silent or apologize for being so forward, but the rational part of his mind seemed to have been put out to pasture as of late. “No. Joel, Carmen, and even Heidi have treated me with nothing but kindness. If you and Lady Mrifa had fallen short even a little, they wouldn’t all be so wonderful.”
The seneschal turned to look at the flames as they guttered and danced low.
Gib took to his feet as quietly as he could. “Would you like me to put out the fire, sir?”
Koal startled. His blue eyes were haunted when he looked upon Gib. “Do you remember the lessons of your father? Did he help make you who you are? Or your mother? Did she mold your honest heart?”
Gib swallowed and looked at his feet. “My mother—I barely remember her. I was only four when she made the journey but I remember my father, yes. He wanted me to be the best person I knew how. ‘Listen to people, Gib,’ he’d say. ‘Don’t pretend to know who they are because even when they tell you, they only tell you the part they want you to hear. You can’t know their strengths, weaknesses, joys, pains until they show them to you.’ It’s one of the things I remember most from him.”
Koal’s sad smile sought to undo Gib. “Your wisdom is his, I see. You had a fine teacher.”
Gib nodded and wiped at the sudden droplet rolling down his cheek. “Yes. But I remember his temper too. I remember the times when he lost hope, when he’d despair. I remember when he’d mutter about ‘those people born with a silver spoon in their mouth.’” Gib paused long enough to catch his breath. “Those weren’t his finest moments, and I remember them but, sir, it’s my choice to earn my merits. I’ve chosen to listen to people, to respect them, to help when I can. And even when I fail to do so, I don’t forget what I’ve been taught. So I think it’s worth your thought to consider that Liro also remembers what good you’ve done for him and others. And one day he may choose to follow that example.”
Gib’s insides shook so terribly he didn’t think he could say another word. Koal stared into the dying embers. At long last the seneschal stood. He patted one of his large hands across Gib’s shoulder and ducked to eye level. “Thank you, Gibben, I can see why Joel has grown so fond of you. Now go on. I’ll quench the fire.”
Gib bowed before retreating into the corridor. His mind was swimming as he attempted to digest the fact that he’d just sat across from the seneschal of Arden and, furthermore, had actually spoken to him. It seemed like a strange dream he’d surely wake from at any moment.
The grand entrance room stood dark and vacant as he passed through. Gib crept toward the stairwell, trying to remain as quiet as possible despite the noise his boots made each time they hit the marble floor. The family’s sleeping quarters were on the second level of the house, but he knew Tabitha slept downstairs.
Gib had just set foot on the first rung of the stairway when a deafening banging noise arose behind him. He almost fell over. He whirled around, grasping the banister of the stairway for balance. What the hell? The thudding noise sounded again, and after a moment, he registered it as someone knocking on the door. No—not knocking—pounding. Someone struck the oak wood as if his life depended upon it.
Gib froze in place. He didn’t know what to do. Should he answer the call or run up the stairs and pretend he didn’t hear it? Even as he opened his mouth to call for the seneschal, Koal flew into the room. Glancing at Gib, the seneschal waved his hand in a stay back motion. With one hand on the hilt of his sword, Koal drew the door open just enough to peer outside.
“Seneschal Koal Adelwijn!” A young page shivered on the step, his face drawn and pale. “His Highness King Rishi Radek has sent me for you.”
Koal looked around, his face contorted with confusion. “At this time? What is it?”
“The King, sir, he’s been attacked!”
Koal threw the door open all the way. “What? Is he all right?”
The boy nodded. “Yes, sir, but he commands you come to the palace at once. They can’t find the attacker and don’t know how he got in.” His narrow chest heaved as he dropped his voice to a hushed whisper. “They tried to kill him, sir. They tried to kill our king.”
Chapter Nine
The next couple of days were torturous as Gib waited for more details about the royal family. Joel suggested they tell the seneschal what Gib had heard in the hall that day, but Koal didn’t come back to the Adelwijn estate before the two students had to return to Academy. The only good to have come from this whole dirty business was that Gib and Joel had gotten back on good speaking terms again. During the chaos surrounding the assassination attempt, they had no time to ponder their friendship or its status.
As they made their way into the dormitory, the halls were abuzz with rumors about what had happened. Word had gotten out—whether it was supposed to or not. Gib and Joel made it to their room without any incidents.
Once inside, Joel locked the door and flopped on his bed. “This is insanity! Did you hear the ridiculous things people were saying?”
Gib tossed his rucksack aside and sat down on his own bed. “I know. Do you think the assassination attempt was made by the person I overheard? Should I tell someone?”
Joel’s face went blank. At length, he sighed and muttered more to himself than to Gib, “I don’t know. It might be the same person, but it may not. I wish I could speak with Father.”
“Do you think you could find him? Let me speak to him?” Gib whispered. He was shaking.
Joel shook his head. “I don’t think so. Not right now. He must be going out of his mind trying to sort this out.”
“It might be important.” Gib kept his voice neutral despite his churning stomach. He didn’t want to push so hard that Joel lost patience with him.
A long, uncomfortable silence fell over them while Joel merely glared at the floor. Various emotions played behind his eyes but were not allowed to steal over his face.
When Gib thought he could take no more of the suffocating stillness, a pounding came on the dormitory door.
Joel managed to get to his feet. “Who is it?” he asked as he reached for the latch.
“Let me in!”
Gib recognized the muffled voice of Hasain Radek immediately, and Joel threw the door open. Hasain, pale and sporting dark rings beneath his eyes, strode in and marched straight to Gib. The sentinel trainee shuddered under the scrutiny of those dark, troubled eyes.
“All right, Nemesio, you have my attention now. What do you know?”
Gib’s mouth fell open. “I—uh, well I
heard two men in the academy hallway near Dean Marc’s office—“
Hasain dragged the stool from the desk and sat heavily before Gib. “I know that already. But what was said? Tell me as well as you can remember it.”
Gib slammed his eyes shut in an attempt to concentrate. What had been said? “Give me a moment.”
Hasain’s voice was dark. “I don’t have a moment.”
Joel hovered beside the bed. “Do you think it was the men he heard then?”
“I don’t know for sure, but it’s better to rule them out if I can.”
Gib swallowed and forced his breathing to calm as he thought back to the day in the hallway outside of Dean Marc’s office. He’d been walking toward the dining hall and a voice had gotten his attention. “The first man said he was worried the assassin had abandoned the mission. And the second man, the killer, said he wouldn’t so long as he was paid. The first said he wasn’t worried about the money. He was worried about whether he and the others could trust the assassin.”
“Others?” Hasain demanded. “The conspirator wasn’t acting alone?”
Gib frowned, keeping his eyes closed. “There were only two people there. The assassin and the one paying him. They didn’t mention the others again.” He grasped for more details but could only think of jingling coins. “He paid half the fee. The conspirator said he’d pay the other half when the job was finished.” Gib opened his eyes in time to witness Hasain lock his jaw.
The young lord seethed in silence. “So this is still an open job—and he has others backing him.” He gave a great sigh and locked his dark eyes on Gib. “You are positive they were talking about the King?”
A Call to Arms: Book One of the Chronicles of Arden Page 21
