Behind him, Linda sneezed in the cloud of dust he disturbed. Fred rubbed at his itching nose. And Glenndon . . .
Glenndon was so absorbed in watching his feet that he barely noticed they’d emerged from underground.
The torch guttered and spluttered one last flame before slinking back down to the barest glow of ember. He ground it against the tunnel wall to extinguish the last of the fire and thrust the useless handle at Fred.
“Where are we?” Linda spun in a slow circle, memorizing every detail of the abandoned room at the end of an abandoned corridor. She blinked in the reduced light sneaking past three arrow-slit windows on the eastern wall.
“Another part of the maze this palace has become over the centuries. This is the oldest part of the keep. The foundations are still solid, but some of the mortar has begun to crumble. My architects decided a decade ago that we’d all be more comfortable in newer, less drafty quarters.”
And he could keep some delightful memories intact; prevent strangers from trampling them by altering any portion of this room.
“The outer walls will stand forever, some of the inner walls, floors and ceilings are less safe. Be careful if you ever decide to explore this section.”
Linda nodded as she continued gathering details from the center of the room.
Fred moved silently to the door, checking for unlikely intruders or observers.
“Glenndon?” Darville tried to draw him out of his deep concentration.
The boy didn’t respond. Not that Darville expected him to. He could at least acknowledge the summons by making eye contact. Instead he examined every crack in the plank flooring and the edges where they met wall panels.
“What are you looking for?”
A web of glowing blue lines appeared in his head. “Ah, you follow ley lines.”
Glenndon opened his eyes wide, questioning Darville’s knowledge of the esoteric magical knowledge.
“Your Da is my best friend. We had more than one adventure tracing out the forbidden knowledge. There is more for you to discover in Coronnan City. But not today. Not now. Now you must meet the queen.”
Glenndon shrank against the wall, trying to disappear into another tapestry. This one memorialized a ship from the Big Continent approaching the Great Bay with a precious cargo of grain and fruit during a famine long, long ago.
“You must present yourself to my wife. Better now than later. She won’t hurt you. She agreed some time ago to accept you into the court. And your Mama is her best friend.”
Glenndon shook his head as his face drained of color. His sense of abandonment nearly overwhelmed Darville with loneliness. He shook it off.
“Your family has not abandoned you, Glenndon. Try to think of us as more of your extended family. Please. We want you to feel welcome and comfortable here.”
Not belong.
“I don’t care if you come or not. I have wondrous things to tell M’ma. I saw a dragon today. And I touched her. And she spoke to me,” Linda said. She held herself tall and proud. Excitement gleamed from her eyes.
But Darville noted a small shadow at the corner of her mouth. His daughter had also faced danger today; witnessed more magic in two heartbeats than had occurred in her protected life since before her birth.
He’d hoped to protect her a little longer before plunging her into the kinds of adventure he’d endured as a young man.
Suddenly Darville lost patience with the boy, with the politics that had forced him to drag his son away from the protected clearing and his loving family.
“Come, now!” he ordered.
Glenndon pressed himself closer to the wall.
Roughly, Darville grabbed his arm and propelled him into the antechamber and thence onto the staircase landing. He was too angry to bother with subtlety. He’d run out of time for secrets. He needed to parade them all before the court, while ignoring curious questions and inopportune demands for government decisions.
He needed to announce to the world that he had a son, no matter how flawed or defective the boy might be.
Linda ran ahead of her father and Glenndon, whom he held firmly by the arm all the way across closed courtyards, open halls, and up winding staircases. Breathlessly she burst into her mother’s suite without ceremony or permission.
“Linda? Something must be terribly wrong or you owe me and Lady Anya an apology for your presumption,” her mother said sternly. The queen sat on a low stool while Lady Anya dressed her thick hair. The long tresses shimmered with a new luster that had been missing during her last illness. Light reflected off the strands of gold, brown, auburn, and black like iridescent mica on the beach. Only the streaks of white radiating out from her temples absorbed light, reminding them all that the queen’s health had nearly broken once and for all.
From their seats by the window, Manda and Josie held fingers in front of their mouths to partially hide their giggles. Linda frowned at them, knowing the game they played, a court game to ridicule someone behind a mask of formality.
“Your Grace,” she started formally, executing a proper curtsy to her mother, but couldn’t contain her excitement. Lady Anya was practically family. And her sisters were . . . her little sisters. “P’pa took me to see the dragon, Shayla, and some soldiers shot at her and Glenndon arrived with Fred in a dazzle of dragon magic, and Shayla flew away and we came back through the tunnels . . .” She had to pause for breath.
“You’ve had an exciting day, my dear. Now come sit and tell me and your sisters what happened. Slowly,” M’ma laughed.
Her sisters! Manda and Josie perched primly on the edge of their chairs beneath the big stained glass window (not as big as the one in the Council Chamber, but still an enormous luxury) working embroidery samplers. Like proper young ladies.
Linda drew a deep breath and swept her riding skirts out of the way as she took a stool close to M’ma.
“Now what is this about soldiers and shooting?” M’ma asked. She sounded calm and no worry lines marred her face, but Linda saw a flash of blind panic in her eyes.
“Nothing to worry you, my love,” P’pa said strolling in behind Linda and dropping a kiss on M’ma’s cheek.
Glenndon followed cautiously, peering into corners as if danger lurked in every shadow. His blond queue (a common three strands) swung back and forth across his back like a cat’s twitching tail. Given what had happened today, he had a right to be scared, Linda supposed. Fred took up the rear. Probably making sure Glenndon did not flee.
“Soldiers shooting outside of drills and hunting expeditions is always a concern,” M’ma insisted sternly.
P’pa sighed as he sprawled in an overstuffed chair reserved for him. “May I at least introduce you to my son before we dissect the who, what, when, why, and how?”
M’ma nodded.
Manda and Josie gasped and bent their heads together in a tight, whispered conversation. They knew he was coming. They had to. They were better at eavesdropping than Linda. Then they turned bland faces toward their father, properly trained court faces without a hint of personality or concern.
But they giggled behind their fingers, again, when Glenndon bent from the waist in an awkward and hesitant bow. He had a lot to learn if he was going to survive at court.
“I am very pleased to have you join us, Glenndon,” M’ma said regally. “Please come to me with anything you need. I will do my best to make you comfortable and welcome.”
He smiled and took her hand, planting a gentle kiss on her fingers. Then he produced a bouquet of wild lilies and lace roots out of the air, presenting them to M’ma with a huge smile that stayed. A genuine one, not one of the masks courtiers usually showed.
“Nice to see your Mama taught you a few manners,” P’pa grumbled. “But you have to stop using magic. At least in public. It is forbidden here. Has been for a
long time.” At Glenndon’s frightened frown P’pa added, “For your protection, for the family’s, and mine, please refrain.”
Glenndon’s face went blank, but he edged closer to M’ma, as if she offered him protection from the king’s wrath, or the law. M’ma patted his hand reassuringly.
“Oh, Darville, leave the boy alone for today,” M’ma cajoled. When she used that half laugh, she always got her way. P’pa could deny her nothing. Linda vowed in that moment to learn her mother’s manner and wiles. Maybe she could cajole Lucjemm into forgiving her for abandoning him in the market.
Glenndon smiled again and gazed at the queen with gratitude and . . . and affection?
“Give Glenndon a chance to get used to us before we impose the artificial rules of court life on him. We’ll present him tomorrow, or the next day. When he’s ready,” M’ma said, burying her nose in the simple bouquet.
Linda didn’t think he’d ever be ready.
“If you insist, my love.” P’pa uncurled his long form and stood tall beside Glenndon. Not so much taller. Glenndon’s head was level with P’pa’s cheek. “I leave you in good hands, my boy.” He squeezed Glenndon’s shoulder. “Her Grace will take care of you, see that you have quarters, clothes, meals—I suspect you need a substantial one now—whatever, and as much as you need. I have to track down some malcontents who dared shoot at a royal dragon.”
“May I come with you, P’pa?” Linda asked. She needed to know how her father dealt with malcontents so that some day she too could do it. She had no doubt that some day she would have to.
“Not today, Little Lindy. Help your brother settle in.”
“He’s not my brother!” Heat flushed her face and made her heart race.
“Yes, he is. And for now, he is my heir. Remember that and behave.” P’pa stalked out, leaving Linda staring at Glenndon, daring him to steal her position and rank. And her place beside her father.
The king must be using magic. It is the only explanation for the way he disappeared. I placed guards and spies on all of the city bridges to watch for his return. Surely I can use this to bring him down. Then I will not have to marry his headstrong daughter to position myself to take the crown and the throne. Marriage to Princess Jaranda of SeLennica will make a better alliance for Coronnan.
But my Princess Linda is so very lovely. If I can make her love me and my lovely . . . I will need help to finalize that relationship. Help from my lovely. Then I can have both princesses.
If I can prove that Darville threw magic, or he ordered someone to throw it for him, then by law he cannot be king. His entire family will die or be exiled. That is the law. The people will flock to my army with this knowledge. I will not need to use my lovely to convince all the lords and their retainers to join us. They love the law more than they love my lovely.
For them I will make stronger the laws against magic with sterner punishments. Exile is too good for magicians.
The law is on my side. The de Draconis family must now prove their innocence.
CHAPTER 17
GLENNDON STARED IN DISMAY at the huge bed with four posts, a canopy, and heavy draperies tied in clumps to each of those posts. The bed frame rose off the plank floor until the top of the mattress, thick and soft enough to swallow him whole, came nearly to his chest. A portable set of two stairs rested conveniently on the side to make getting into the monster easier. He decided then and there he’d sleep on the floor by the hearth—an inefficient and decorative thing set into the wall and sending most of its heat up a flue while allowing cold drafts to roar downward and permanently embed themselves in the thick stone walls.
Now if the hearth and chimney extended into the room they would radiate enough heat to truly warm the place. He wondered if he had the authority to rebuild.
No. He wasn’t going to be here long enough.
He shivered, longing for the cozy warmth of his mother’s cabin. If he stayed here long enough to sleep, he’d probably be warmer with the thick coverlet from the bed in a small corner on the roof, if he could find a place out of the wind that blew constantly off the Great Bay.
Promise me, you’ll give them a chance to love you as we do, his mother had demanded before she sent him here to meet his father. The king. Become his heir.
S’murghit, he didn’t belong here.
He didn’t belong at home anymore either. Maybe he should stay a while until he figured out where he did belong.
Glenndon had no idea what a king actually did. Was it like the meetings that occupied Da’s time? Running the University to train the next generation of magicians was a lot of work. That Glenndon understood. As Senior Magician, Da needed to keep track of all of Coronnan’s magicians and work to integrate them back into everyday life. That Glenndon understood.
Perhaps the king performed similar duties with the mind-blind.
Thankfully the queen, the lovely and gracious queen, had left him alone for a time after feeding him generous portions of roasted beasts, fresh bread, and greens dressed in vinegar and bacon fat. When he’d satisfied his appetite and replenished his energy stores, she’d shown him his room and then taken her two younger daughters back to her suite. He might, after a time, get used to thinking of Manda and Josie as his half-sisters. They weren’t so different from Valeria and Lillian, except they had no magic (not even the tiny trace he’d seen in the king’s aura and the older princess, Linda) and talked endlessly of dresses and hairstyles and their ponies.
His sisters hadn’t time for such frivolity. They worked, in Mama’s garden and at their lessons. They had no one to impress with fancy garments. An apprentice’s robe was impressive enough, a journeyman’s or master’s even more so.
Why am I here?
No answer. He was indeed alone. No dragons to hear his mental call. No magicians to stand beside him and work with him. No Lukan to make fun of him and twist his spells inside out and upside down for the joy of it.
Hot tears of loneliness burned in the back of his eyes. He wanted to throw himself onto the bed and cry, like a small child.
He couldn’t even reach the bed top to throw himself upon it without carefully negotiating the rickety steps.
A sharp knock on the door startled Glenndon out of his reverie. He dashed the tears away from his eyes and turned to face the intruder.
“You did say ‘come in,’ didn’t you? Thought so. Wouldn’t presume to enter the chamber of a royal without permission, now would I. Clothed enough of you lot to know my place. And you’d be the new heir presumptive . . .” A stout woman in a dark dress with a black apron and a mop of gray-streaked dark hair bustled in. She wore a long piece of knotted cloth around her neck, pins stuck into her apron bib, and some sort of metal tool with a circle at the end of each handle protruded from her pocket.
“Stargods, I didn’t quite believe it when they told me, but can’t be any doubt now. Look just like him, you do. Golden locks the color of snow-streaked sunshine, same broad shoulders, and hips so slim you can barely get a belt to stay up. He’s got a few inches on you but you got time to grow a bit. But your eyes be different. Oh, yes, you got magician blue eyes, just like your Mama.”
Glenndon backed up against the mattress as far as he could and gave this woman possession of the room. She seemed to use up all the air in her gushing conversation. She carried on both ends better than anything he could add. Glenndon felt no need to comment with mind speech or words.
“Now let’s get your measure and I’ll have new tunics and trews for you by the time you break your fast. Boots might take an hour or two longer.” She stared at his muddy footwear with disdain.
Glenndon didn’t like the boots either, but at the moment they felt like some protection from this woman.
“Oh, excuse me, forgot we hadn’t met. Been around the palace so long everyone knows old Maisy, seamstress to the court. And I
thought the young princesses were a bit of a chore to keep up with, what with them growing faster than Devils vine—they can be just as thorny in their demands if you ask me—and the way the Princess Royale changes fashion with every other thought so’s she can keep the other ladies jumping to mimic her, but she’s always ahead of them by at least two steps. You, young man, need a lot of work. I see your Mama kept you in good sturdy cloth, but that will not do at court. Now get them old clothes off so’s I can measure you proper.”
Glenndon fled. He closed his eyes and thought of nowhere except away from here. No when except not now.
Half a heartbeat later he opened his eyes in a vast nothingness. No up or down, right or left, forward or back. Just a sea of all-color, no-color tangles twining about his body, which he couldn’t see or feel.
“I look forward to meeting your son, Your Grace,” Lord Andrall said, formal as ever.
Darville allowed himself a small grin. Andrall had married his father’s sister. He was family. Still, the man never, ever, presumed upon the relationship, other than to offer his complete, unshakable loyalty. His only son should be able to claim a place in the lineup of heirs to the crown. However, Mardall had been born to Andrall and Aunt Lynnetta late in life. His moon face always appeared happy, and life never disappointed him. At the age of thirty-five, he had yet to learn to read, or hold a sword, or show any interest in politics. He did have an uncanny touch with taming and gentling wild steeds and wilder children.
But then fourteen years ago a totally mad Lady Ariiell, daughter of Lord Laislac, seduced Mardall, hoping to displace Darville and rule Coronnan through her child. That child, Mikkette, appeared to be growing up normal.
No one mentioned Mikkette when discussing heirs to the crown out of fear that his parents’ heritage of sorcery and madness, or a simple mind, would overtake him at any time.
The Silent Dragon: Children of The Dragon Nimbus #1 Page 12
