Stephen stared at both her and William for several long minutes before he finally nodded. She could see in his eyes that he understood the decision for what it was – a declaration without being a promise.
“We can arrange a meeting tonight – in the council room after dinner.”
“Yes,” Nathaniel said. “I’m going to go and speak to Marcus.” His eyes met Quinn’s, and she was taken aback by the depth of the emotion in them, or rather, the emotions. There was relief, fear, maybe even a hint of … pride? Love?
What surprised her even more was how deeply some of those same emotions resonated in her own heart.
“Will you please send Linnea and Thomas in here on your way?” Stephen asked, as Nathaniel stood to leave.
* * *
“I cannot believe I am finally going to your world,” Linnea said excitedly.
The four of them had been sitting in silence for several minutes since Stephen had left the room.
“It’s not a vacation, Nay,” William said. His fingers, twined with Quinn’s, tightened.
Linnea rolled her eyes. “Is that your new motto, Will? Every time I go somewhere with you, I get to be reminded of how hard you work all the time, and how seriously you take everything? It’s also not a funeral. I know there are serious things going on here, but this trip could be fun, instead of a bad thing. I’ve been wanting to see where you spend the rest of your time for as long as I can remember. You don’t have to ruin it for me.”
Quinn looked over at Thomas, and saw that his eyes were as wide as her own. She tensed, waiting for William’s reaction to Linnea’s attack, but after a few seconds, he relaxed beside her.
“You’re right, Nay. I shouldn’t be so grim about it; we can go and have fun. At least nobody will be trying to kidnap you in Bristlecone.”
Thomas’ jaw dropped. “You’re good for him, Quinn.”
Her cheeks grew warm as she glanced nervously up at William, but his expression was warm, and he leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Very good,” he agreed.
There was a knock on the door then, so tentative that at first Quinn wasn’t sure she’d actually heard it, but then Thomas stood to answer it.
Mia came into the room looking uncertain, though she smiled when Thomas put his arm around her shoulders and led her over to where the rest of them were sitting.
“I heard you’re leaving?” she asked, looking around. “I was told to begin making preparations for all four of you to leave tomorrow.”
“Yes, that’s right,” William said.
“And you don’t know for how long?” Mia looked up at Thomas.
“No,” he said. “It will feel like a long time for you. I’m sorry.”
As she watched the exchange between the two of them – the glances and unspoken words, Quinn could see that things had grown more serious between Thomas and Mia than she had known.
Mia shook her head. “It will be good to know that you’re safe. Things are too uncertain here right now.”
William had grown rigid beside her again, and Linnea looked concerned, too. It took Quinn a minute to understand what their problem was – they were worried that Thomas had shared more with Mia than he should have.
“Mia,” she said quietly. “You need to show them.”
Mia nodded, and stepped closer to them before pulling back the collar of her dress.
Linnea sucked in a breath. “How long?”
“Almost a cycle now. Since I turned sixteen.”
“Did you know about this, Thomas?” Linnea demanded.
“Mia told me a couple of days ago,” he said, “right after she told Quinn.”
Linnea’s and William’s eyes both flashed to her.
“I guess I’m better at keeping secrets than I thought,” Quinn said, a little guiltily.
William put his arm around her shoulder. “It might be a necessary skill for a …” he broke off his sentence, glancing back over at Mia.
“It’s okay, she knows my secret, too.”
“Wait a minute! You told Mia before you told us?”
“No, Lady Linnea. It isn’t Lady Quinn’s fault. I … I overheard a conversation I shouldn’t have.” She looked at Quinn. “I haven’t told anyone, I promise, not even Thomas. I wouldn’t.” Her hand went over her heart, over the tattoo.
“I know you wouldn’t, Mia.
“Do all the Friends of Philip know?” Linnea asked.
“If anyone does, they’ve never shared it with me,” Mia said. “I can’t say that I’m happy I know. It’s an enormous secret that carries more responsibility than I’d like. To be honest, even knowing the little I know about your world has been a burden.”
Again Quinn was reminded of how much depended on the decisions she had to make. She couldn’t blame Mia for how she felt – the weight of her responsibility was humbling and terrifying.
“I think I want to join the Friends of Philip,” Linnea said.
Everyone turned to look at her, and Quinn’s stomach twisted as she realized that she and William hadn’t shared those plans with her.
“Father won’t allow it until you’re of age,” Thomas said.
“How do you know?” Linnea turned on him, frowning.
“I’ve already asked. He’ll consider allowing me to do it at sixteen, instead of waiting until I’m eighteen, but definitely not before.”
Linnea threw her head back against the couch cushion. “You already asked him? Without telling me? Anyone else have a secret to share while we’re at it?”
There was a resigned half-smile in William’s eyes as they met Quinn’s.
“William and I are both joining the Friends of Philip before we go back to Bristlecone,” Quinn said softly.
28. The Friends of Philip
“You’re both certain about this?” Nathaniel asked. His words were to both of them, but his eyes were on Quinn, scrutinizing her expression.
After dinner, Nathaniel had asked Quinn and William if they would join him on a walk outside, before the meeting where they would declare their intentions to join the Friends of Philip.
Quinn was silent for a long moment, meeting his gaze as she considered his question. She was sure … but she did want to make sure that she had put thought into all of the aspects of her decision. Her stepfather, Jeff, had always called this “due diligence”. She swallowed hard; it was oddly painful thinking of him here, now, when for so long she’d pushed thoughts of home out of her mind.
“What would my father – Samuel – have wanted me to do?”
A shadow crossed over Nathaniel’s face. “He never intended for you to have to make this decision on your own. Honestly, Quinn, once you were born, it was something he struggled with immensely himself. He was a good man, with the potential to be a great king, but he was human, just as you are, and things aren’t always so simple. For a while, when you were tiny, he considered the idea of just staying in Bristlecone forever, of keeping you safe there, of never even sharing the secret with you.”
“And then?” William was curious, now.
“I think he started to realize that some of his choices had been mistakes, and that he sometimes even regretted ever running away in the first place.”
“Even though if he’d stayed he’d have been killed?”
Nathaniel shrugged. “We don’t know that’s what would have happened, Quinn. It might have all worked out if he had stayed and fought for what was rightfully his.”
William’s hand closed tightly around hers as she closed her eyes, deep in thought for several seconds. Finally, she nodded. “I’m sure I want to do this. I’m not ready to decide what it means, but I’m sure about this.”
* * *
William had only been in his father’s council room a few times before; he couldn’t even remember when the last time had been. A sharp intake of breath beside him as they approached the thick wooden doors told him that Quinn was more nervous than she was letting on, and he tightened his grip on her hand.
Stephen was
there, waiting just inside the door as William, Quinn, and Nathaniel entered. He had been leaning against the back of one of the tall armchairs that made up a small sitting area near the front of the room, but he stood up and came over to meet them at the door.
He doesn’t look like a king, was the first thought that entered William’s mind. It was an odd thought to have – his father rarely did look like a king to him, except maybe on special occasions. But today, maybe because he’d been thinking so much about Quinn, and the decision she was facing, thinking about her father and the choices he’d made, it really struck him that Stephen was really only an ordinary man with an extraordinary responsibility.
As his father wrapped him in a hug, William offered up a quick, silent prayer for him and for this meeting tonight.
They weren’t alone in the room. Marcus was there, already seated at the enormous table, along with Luke Willoughby, another of his father’s personal guards. The two men stood as they approached. William raised his eyebrow at the sight of Luke here at this meeting – that explained Mia. She was Luke’s daughter. He wondered if tonight’s meeting would hold any more surprises.
“Hello Master William.” Marcus said, holding out his hand in greeting. “And Lady Quinn.”
William had to withdraw his hand quickly from Marcus’ and reach to steady Quinn, who had stumbled backwards slightly, as both guards lowered their heads respectfully towards her.
If Marcus noticed her reaction, he didn’t acknowledge it. “Lady Quinn, this is Luke Willoughby, I believe you know his daughter, Mia.”
Quinn didn’t falter again; she smiled widely and reached to take Luke’s hand. “If you’re Mia’s father, then I’m sure I like you already. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“And you as well, Lady Quinn.”
When he had first begun courting her, William had thought about how difficult it might be for Quinn to adjust to the idea of having a relationship with a prince. As a child of the king, William often had to contend with heavy obligations, formal events, and diplomatic relationships. He knew it wasn’t always easy to deal with the constant demands of his position. Simon’s wife, Evelyn, still had difficulty with it, and the one girl Maxwell had been halfway serious with about a cycle ago, had eventually broken up with him over it. Max had been hurt pretty deeply.
Tonight, though, watching the way Luke and Marcus, two guards he’d known his whole life, bowed their heads low when they spoke to Quinn, deferring to her, made him realize for the first time that he’d had it wrong. If she decided to acknowledge her birthright, he would be the one doing the escorting and smiling.
As they sat down at the table, William put his hand under her elbow, rubbing it gently under the pretense of assisting her. She glanced at him, giving him a slight smile before turning her attention to the four men sitting down with them – his father, Nathaniel, Luke, and Marcus.
“King Stephen tells me that both of you would like to join the Friends of Philip,” Marcus began, cutting straight to the issue.
“Yes.” They answered simultaneously. William wondered if Quinn’s palms were as sweaty as his were becoming.
“Do you understand what you’re getting yourselves into?”
Quinn frowned; under the table, William put his hand on her knee, smoothing the lacy, white fabric of her skirt. Briefly, she touched her hand to his, and her slight tremble calmed as she touched him.
“I’m sure we don’t know all of it,” William answered. “Everyone here knows about Quinn?”
“Yes,” Stephen answered. “It’s still a secret, even among members of the Friends, but Marcus has always known, and we informed Luke only recently. I’m sorry, Quinn, but we are reaching a point where, given the safety concerns, and especially with you and William courting officially, we have to expand the circle. Luke is highly trusted, and we felt confident in sharing the information with him.”
Luke looked at Quinn. “I still can’t believe it, Lady Quinn, but I swear I will guard your secret with my life.
William wasn’t certain how she would react, and he was surprised when she just nodded. “It’s not going to be possible to keep the secret for much longer, I don’t think.”
“Are you genuinely considering accepting your role, milady?” Marcus asked.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. William tightened his grip on her knee, but this time she was so deep in thought that he wasn’t sure she noticed.
When she opened her eyes, she didn’t answer his question, instead asking one of her own. “Tell me about the Friends of Philip.”
Marcus’ eyebrow went up almost imperceptibly, and out of the corner of his eye, William saw his father give a tiny nod.
“What do you know about the history of our kingdoms, Quinn?”
She shook her head. “Not much, really. I heard a story once, about the twins … but I don’t think I was paying close attention at the time.”
“The version of the story in the children’s history books,” William clarified. “I think she read that during the poisonings.”
“Those were the books that were poisoned?” Luke asked.
“Yes. Interesting, don’t you think?” Nathaniel answered, and the two of them exchanged a look. William had never really thought about it before – that the poisoned books were the ones which taught about the shared history of the two kingdoms.
“Anyway,” Marcus looked back at Quinn, “that’s a fairly simplified version of the story. It’s true that Philotheum and Eirentheos were once one much larger kingdom. At one point, in fact, all of this was Philotheum.”
“And then there were twins, right?” she asked. “And they didn’t know which one of them was the first born?”
“Yes.” Nathaniel spoke now. “The story is that it was a very difficult birth, and the queen nearly died. It’s an old story, and the records aren’t completely accurate, but the thought is that the babies were handed off to a young nursemaid. It wasn’t until the next morning, when it looked as though the queen might actually live, that anyone realized there might be a problem. Nobody had any idea which baby was which; what boy was the heir to the throne.”
“I guess you can’t exactly flip a coin over something like that.”
Luke looked panic-stricken over Quinn’s joke, but Stephen chuckled. “No, not exactly.”
“So they just decided to split the kingdom in half and share?”
“Well, it wasn’t quite that simple, Quinn.” Although there was a smile hiding in the edges of his expression, Marcus’ voice was serious. “Actually, for many years, the king and queen made no decision at all. Hoping it would all work out on its own, I suppose.”
“We call it the dandelion choice,” Stephen said.
Quinn’s entire body stiffened and William looked at her in alarm. “What’s the dandelion choice?” she asked.
Although she’d re-composed herself nearly instantly, William patted her knee softly as he answered. “When you plant a garden, no matter how carefully, there will always be weeds – plants that work their own way in, tend to themselves, and multiply. A gardener has two choices. He can carefully cultivate the plants he has placed there, feeding them, watering them, and vigilantly guarding them against the weeds…”
“Or you can let the weeds in,” Quinn said.
“Yes. Some weeds, dandelions in particular, are quite useful, and even beautiful. They provide food, medicine, decoration, entertainment. You can even make a kind of coffee from ground dandelion roots.”
“So why not just have a dandelion garden? It’s easier.” The level of understanding in Quinn’s voice was frightening William a little.
“It’s easier, and there are even some advantages, right. But deciding to have a dandelion garden is, in many ways, a choice to make no decision at all. You don’t have to make that choice. If you just don’t decide anything, the dandelions will decide for you.”
“Is that so bad?”
“It’s not – until you reach the point where you ha
ve no control over the situation at all. The dandelions start to go everywhere, choking the life out of any other plants in your garden, starting to spread outside your fence. Eventually, you’re at their mercy – it’s no longer your garden; the dandelions have taken over.”
“And you can no longer have roses.”
William frowned; he couldn’t remember ever having talked about this with her before. “No. Choosing ‘the roses’ is the opposite of choosing ‘dandelions.’ Roses are delicate, difficult to cultivate, and early on they’re easy to kill. They need lots of sunshine, water, food, and care. They’re vulnerable to bugs and weeds. And growing them can even be painful. With the roses come the thorns.”
“But if you put the work in …”
“Right. If you make that choice, put in the work, there’s nothing more beautiful than a perfect rose.”
Quinn nodded, closing her eyes for a long moment. “So they just didn’t decide; and the ‘dandelions’ took over.”
Stephen raised an eyebrow; William could tell that his father was as surprised by Quinn’s reaction as he was. “It was a very tenuous time for Philotheum in many ways. After the birth of the twins, the queen was never able to conceive again – Philip and Aaron were it. And there were other relatives circling, saying that if they couldn’t make a decision, then maybe it was time for another branch of the family to take over the throne. One cousin in particular – Norman, the son of the king’s second-born brother, had married a royal from Dovelnia and moved to the far eastern portion of the kingdom. It was mostly wilderness, sparsely populated and largely ignored, and he was basically ruling there, sort of setting up a kingdom of his own.”
“Here, you mean?” Quinn asked. “Philotheum is the western part, Eirentheos the eastern, yes?”
Thorns of Decision (Dusk Gate Chronicles) Page 30
