The Merchant's Love

by Antonia Aquilante

  “You don’t have to.”

  “You’re my twin, my best friend. Yes, I do.”

  “Well, try not to do it excessively, then,” he said, even though Alexander’s words soothed him. He reached out and squeezed Alexander’s hand.

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Thank you.” Faelen shook his head and laughed.

  Alexander went back to his breakfast for a few moments, methodically eating pastry and fruit, though his mind seemed elsewhere. “What are you and Maxen now, after your kiss?”

  “I…” It was a question he hadn’t considered. “We haven’t discussed it. More than we were, I suppose.”

  “It was a kiss, and apparently a brilliant one, but don’t get too far ahead of yourself before you talk to Maxen at least.” Alexander reached across the table and gripped Faelen’s arm. “Sometimes it’s just a kiss.”

  He frowned, annoyance rising again. “And sometimes it’s more than just a kiss.”

  “I know.” Alexander sat back. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I’m not getting ahead of myself. It isn’t as if I’m planning our wedding or anything.” Though with the way he felt, with this connection that seemed bone-deep…someday, maybe.

  But he didn’t know if Maxen would want a marriage or a life with anyone. He’d spoken more than once about a desire to travel, to see and experience other places. Adventure, Faelen had always supposed. But Faelen needed to put down roots in one place, to have family and friends close. Just being a part of the royal family seemed adventure enough some days, especially lately with murder plots and kidnapping and magic.

  Alexander tilted his head. “Are you sure?”

  Faelen rolled his eyes but laughed despite himself. “Positive. No wedding plans.”

  He was still a combination of amused, exasperated, and touched when he left the suite, which wasn’t uncommon after interactions with Alexander. He loved his brother in a way he couldn’t begin to explain to someone not a twin, but Alexander seemed to do his best to be annoying some days. At least he hadn’t asked when Faelen had gotten in last night—he’d only be insufferably overprotective if he knew.

  Just because Faelen had never had a lover before (if that’s what Maxen was, after one night of kisses) didn’t mean he was about to do something utterly stupid and get himself hurt. He didn’t have expectations at this point. Except maybe that last night would be repeated. And, well, if he had hopes—vague, wispy ones that swirled and danced and didn’t quite let him get too good a grasp on them—there was nothing wrong with hoping.

  The quiet, nearly empty corridors of the family wing gave way to the more public corridors of the palace, which had some traffic in them. Philip and Amory were holding audiences shortly, so more people than usual were coming through. Faelen, thankfully, was not required to attend, so he had no need to stop.

  The main room of the palace library was empty except for the head librarian, who murmured a greeting and bowed. Faelen returned his greeting and left him to his work. The library, outside of the large, open main space, was a maze of smaller rooms, each holding books of a particular subject. All of the rooms were different sizes with varying furniture, and Faelen loved it. He spent most of his working time in the archive now, but one day, he would choose his favorite of these little rooms and perhaps claim it for his own, as Etan had done, as a place to work on his linguistic studies.

  For now, though, he wound his way through the library toward the entrance to the archive. Faelen stopped when he heard someone call his name and turned toward the doorway of the windowless room Savarin had taken over. Unlike the other assorted rooms and nooks in the library, this one held no books except those Savarin had brought with him. Savarin had put his strongest spells on it to keep people out and away from his work. He didn’t expect someone to break in but had to take every precaution.

  “Good morning, Master Savarin,” Faelen said, walking closer to the doorway. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  “For a little while. I wanted an early start this morning.”

  “I hope you haven’t been waiting for me. You could have sent someone for me.”

  “Not at all. I have other work to do as well.” His silvery gray eyes seemed to gleam in the steady glow of the light globes that were set to Savarin’s exact requirements. “I’m sure you do as well.”

  “Yes, I’m in the middle of a project up in the archive.” He was busy with at least three projects, possibly more, and now Savarin most likely had something else for him. All Faelen wanted was to get cozy in the chair in his bedchamber with a cup of chocolate and relive his evening with Maxen, but he had obligations to be met before that could happen. He wondered if people thought royalty had lives of complete leisure. He supposed some did—there were members of Teilo’s ruling family who didn’t seem to do anything except be royalty. Not the case for most of them in Tournai. Nor did he think any of them would have it any other way.

  “What can I help you with today, Master Savarin?” He stepped into the room. Faelen didn’t understand exactly what Savarin had done to allow him in, but the spell would only let certain people enter even when Savarin was there.

  Savarin gestured him forward. “Please sit, Lord Faelen.”

  He pushed the door closed behind him and did as Savarin asked. That the door was open at all proved he’d been waiting for Faelen. Savarin couldn’t get into the archive—which Faelen recognized annoyed Savarin considerably, though nothing had been explicitly said in his hearing—so he had to catch Faelen before he went up or wait even longer.

  “I may have found a way to make the protection spells do more of what we want them to do.”

  Since earlier in the year, Savarin had been studying them, trying to understand their structure and how they were created. A few months ago, before Faelen had arrived back in Tournai, he’d had a breakthrough and was able to strengthen the weakening barriers that the spells put into place around the country. There was almost nothing recorded about them—nothing at all outside the archive, which left Savarin working at theory and Faelen scouring for anything that might speak of their origins.

  “What we want them to do?” He hadn’t realized Savarin planned to alter the spells, but perhaps he should have known something more motivated the project. Of course, he also hadn’t imagined something of such scale and strength could be altered.

  “We want not only to ensure that the spells and, therefore, the barriers remain strong, but also to enhance them if we can.” Savarin sat forward a little. “The barriers are designed to repel magical attacks on Tournai. We’d like to take that further.”

  Faelen assumed Savarin meant Philip and Amory as well—or at least he hoped so. It was unlikely even Savarin would go so far as to make such alterations without approval. “How so?”

  “We’ve discussed quite a bit. Seeing if the spells could also guard against physical attack or keep out those who intend harm to Tournai.”

  “Is that possible?” Could a spell divine someone’s intention?

  “Honestly? I’m not sure yet.” Savarin smiled slightly. “Yes, I’m admitting I don’t know something. It’s why we’re doing all this research. I know the sorcerers who originally put the spells into place intended to go further. But I don’t know what they planned.”

  Dozens of questions swirled through Faelen’s mind, but asking wouldn’t be productive. He’d have to trust that Savarin would explain what was necessary. “That’s why we’re looking for mentions of the spells, so you can determine their intentions.”

  “Yes, if they wrote them down at all. They might not have.”

  Faelen was beginning to think his long-ago ancestors and the sorcerers who worked for them hadn’t done so. He could understand not writing much down—mapping out how the spells were constructed was an invitation for someone to use the information to deconstruct them.

  “What are you planning now?” Faelen asked.

  “I think I can change the spells to not onl
y repel magical attacks, but to also…capture the perpetrators of the attack.”

  “You can?”

  “It’s a logical next step, the pathways are almost there, and I believe I know what needs to be done to get them all the way there.” Savarin looked confident, even if his words weren’t entirely unequivocal.

  Faelen decided not to ask what he meant by pathways, at least not yet. There was a larger question in his mind. “What do you need me for?”

  “When I worked with the spells the first time, I needed members of the royal family there to help me connect to them because your Talent is both the anchor and the key.”

  “So I’ve been told.” Etan had explained how all the members of the family who had the Talent had participated—and had some ill effects in the form of fatigue and headaches afterward. Nevertheless, had he and Alexander been here, they would have joined in. For love of, and responsibility to, Tournai.

  “I need your help in the same way.”

  Faelen hadn’t expected that. “I thought you didn’t need that anymore?”

  “Generally, no. I can get into the spells and study them fine on my own now that they recognize me, but I’m not sure I can do anything more extensive without the presence of a member of the royal family.”

  And he’d asked Faelen. Had Savarin gone to Etan or Philip to discuss this first? Whose idea had it been for Faelen to help Savarin with his magic? Or perhaps they all just assumed, since Faelen was already helping Savarin. Just a moment ago, Faelen had been thinking he would have helped without question, but now he hesitated. It was normal to feel some trepidation in something like this, wasn’t it? Who knew what could happen to him.

  “I’ve discussed the idea of altering the spells this way with the princes and Lord Etan, and they agreed that it would be worth trying,” Savarin said, appearing unaware of Faelen’s inner turmoil. “I hope you’ll consent to assist me with it.”

  “Of course.” Best not to think too much about it. If Savarin could do what he said, they would be making Tournai safer; he couldn’t refuse. “What do I need to do?”

  “Nothing really. I’ll work on the spells from the clearing in the small woods in the garden,” Savarin said.

  “Etan told me they’re centered there.”

  Savarin seemed excited that he knew. “Yes. They were originally set there to emanate out over Tournai. I can only work with them in that spot.”

  “All right.”

  “I’ll need you there using your Talent, but that’s all. It might actually get a bit boring for you.” Savarin shrugged almost apologetically. “You won’t know what’s going on while I work. I’m also not sure how long it will take. We could be there for quite a while.”

  Well, all that sounded delightful. “And the risks?”

  “You heard about what happened last time?”

  “That’s why I’m asking.” And hoping for some reassurance, but what he really needed was truth.

  “There are risks, as I told the princes and your family then. But beyond some energy drain and headaches, there were no adverse effects last time, certainly nothing serious or lasting.” A shadow moved through Savarin’s eyes but cleared quickly, and he met Faelen’s gaze squarely. “I don’t even expect it to be as bad for you as it was for them. That was the largest, most complex magic I’d ever performed. This will be complicated, but more on the level of it being intricate, painstaking. It isn’t on the scale of what I did then. I don’t know that I’ll even really need you there. I doubt you’ll feel anything at all.”

  Faelen let it all turn over in his mind. He could handle a headache or being tired if it came to that, and hopefully, Savarin was being forthcoming with him about all the risks. He didn’t have any reason to believe he wasn’t, though some sort of large creatures seemed to be flying around in his stomach all of a sudden as anxiety hummed along his nerves.

  “I’ll help.”

  “Thank you, Lord Faelen.”

  “Did you want to start now?” He took a long breath. Best to just dive in. He didn’t ever really do that, but now seemed the time.

  “No. I’d rather start early.” In case it took a long time was what Savarin didn’t say, but Faelen could hear it nonetheless. “Are you available to work with me tomorrow morning?”

  He’d just told himself that jumping in was better, but a jolt still went through him at the idea of doing it so soon. “Yes, I am.”

  “Good. I’ll meet you in the clearing in the morning.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Faelen left Savarin, musing that he’d love to be able to bring a book with him in the morning. If he did end up sitting there for hours while Savarin worked, it would be nice to have something to pass the time. What would Savarin do if he turned up with one? Turning pages while a cat wouldn’t be easy—he’d tried it before—but he’d manage if it helped occupy his mind. Did he dare?

  He let himself into the archive and climbed the stairs while thinking about it. Alexander would not be pleased with the risk Faelen was taking, even though Savarin said it was minimal. Maxen probably wouldn’t like it either. It was Faelen’s choice, not either of theirs, despite whatever their concern might be.

  Faelen stopped dead a few steps from the top.

  He couldn’t tell Maxen, could he?

  The spells that kept Tournai safe, the Talent Faelen possessed that ran only in the royal family, were all things he couldn’t tell Maxen. He’d always known that, but he hadn’t really thought about it. He used his Talent, but not out in the open like a healing Talent or a fire Talent or Savarin’s sorcery. He enjoyed using it—he and Alexander both did, ever since their Talents had manifested, but they only ever spoke of it to each other. It had been strange getting used to living among such a large group of people who knew.

  Faelen hadn’t thought about telling Maxen at all at first. He hadn’t known Maxen, but… Now they were more and Faelen felt more. Somewhere along the way, Maxen became one of the first people Faelen thought about, that he cared about, and it had changed everything inside Faelen. It was terrifying how it happened without him even realizing. There was so much inside him, and he wasn’t sure what to do with it yet.

  He shook himself before he could get too upset. Taking a deep breath, he opened the archive door and continued inside. The main room was empty. The light globes came on as soon as he walked in, alleviating the gloom.

  The long table in the center of the room was covered in neat stacks of books and papers—products of his and Etan’s many projects. Faelen was considering asking Etan if they could get Alexander to help. Faelen wouldn’t mind an extra set of hands and eyes, and the archive allowed Alexander in. He wasn’t as interested as Faelen or Maxen were in the topic, but he could be as meticulous as Faelen if motivated enough. How to motivate him was the dilemma. Alexander had his own life, his own projects and pursuits, and they were not aligned with time spent in the archive. Faelen would have to think about it.

  Faelen went to the far end of the table and looked over the large paper he and Etan had spread out there. Their handwriting covered it in a neat depiction of the royal family tree. Not the whole of it, of course—it was far too extensive for one sheet of paper, even a large one. They were doing it in pieces, and meticulously noting whether each person had inherited the family’s Talent.

  Etan had proposed this project. He was interested in how and when the Talent surfaced, and the more Faelen had learned about the connection between it and the protection spells, the more interested he became. They didn’t have a lot of real knowledge about their Talent, as much of it was from stories passed from parent to child. They’d lost information because of that oral history, though they hoped to fill in gaps from the archive, to learn how the Talent worked and connected to other things. If it was linked to anything other than the spells.

  This project would at least show them patterns and maybe prove some of Etan’s theories. It was easy to fill in their own and their parents’ generations on the tree. No one in their
parents’ generation had inherited the Talent. They both knew this, but Etan confirmed it through the sources they had access to. The only blanks left were their cousins in Elleri—children of the aunt who had married into the royal family of the kingdom that shared their eastern border. But if any of them had inherited the Talent, they’d never informed Philip of it.

  Writing to them and asking wasn’t ideal when it was possible the letters could be intercepted. The last thing they needed was for the information to fall into the hands of anyone outside the family. So, they left those blanks with question marks for the time being—until they either found information that answered their questions, or could ask those involved without risk of discovery.

  The challenge would only grow as they went further back, and neither of them knew what the archives would hold for them in this area, even though they were spending a lot of time organizing and cataloguing. It felt as if they didn’t really even have time for that, though. And Faelen had no idea where that feeling of urgency came from.

  They also hadn’t decided whether to follow the collateral lines all the way. The Talent seemed to stop appearing the farther away from the throne the lineage moved, but they had no way of proving that without researching it. And what if there had been illegitimate royal children along the way who hadn’t been acknowledged? Would there be any record of those children or mention of their Talents? It beggared belief that there hadn’t been one in the hundreds of years of Tournai’s existence. Of course, if an illegitimate child had inherited the Talent, wouldn’t it have gotten out by now?

  He traced his finger lightly over the writing on the page and then reached for his notes to find where he’d left off.

  There was so much information in these rooms that had been forgotten over time, so many stories to be rediscovered, so much to be learned about his family’s history outside what was taught in schools.

  “Faelen?”

  He jumped and looked toward the door. “Etan.”