Nightfall: Book Two of the Chronicles of Arden

by Shiriluna Nott

  Liro chuckled, a dry sound entirely void of mirth. “Your head has been filled with the fanciful misgivings of your sire, I see. All the better you will never rule.”

  Diddy gasped, and Gib whirled around on his heel. He’d wanted to stay out of this but couldn’t just stand by and allow—

  Hasain narrowed his eyes into dangerous slits. “My brother will be your king one day, and then you will have to bow to him. I assure you my father has taught Prince Deegan as well as he taught me. Perhaps it is your education that is lacking.”

  Liro’s cruel mouth opened to strike again, but a sudden call caused the lord to glance beyond the gathered understudies. Gib turned as well, a familiar voice catching his ears. His spirit jumped. Could it be?

  Across the hall, Koal, Marc, and King Rishi gazed in the same direction. The seneschal’s face broke into a smile, and he held his hand up, waving over the crowd. Gib leaned as far from the stairs as he could without compromising his balance. There, beyond the doorway, he could make out two figures as they made their way through the corridor. One was Ambassador Cenric Leal, Arden’s most accomplished envoy. The other was his current understudy, Joel Adelwijn.

  Chapter Two

  Joel glanced over his shoulder. The light from the portal fizzled behind him as the rip between spaces collapsed on itself. For a moment, he could still see the dark forms of the Shantarian priests powering the opposite side of the rift, but then the passageway connecting the two realms dissipated completely as the priests released their grip on the magic and allowed the portal to fade into nothingness.

  A moment before, he’d been standing in a crowded, humid palace in Shantar; Joel now found himself inside a familiar courtyard—the royal gardens of Silver City. It seemed impossible, but here he was. Frost-bitten vines crawled along beautiful marbled columns lining the garden, and the scent of leather and hay hung on the light breeze blowing from the stables. He breathed a deep sigh. He was home.

  Joel turned toward his mentor and friend, Ambassador Cenric Leal. “Well, here we are at last. We’re home.”

  Smoothing down a wrinkle in his embroidered jerkin, the envoy issued a chuckle. “And we made the journey intact.”

  “You were worried we wouldn’t?”

  Cenric smiled wryly, his hazel eyes twinkling. He brushed a strand of short, peppered brown hair away from his face and retorted, “Considering they had two mage trainees assisting with the portal, yes, I’ll admit I was slightly concerned for our welfare. Trainees have no business with portal working. One mishap or loss of control and we could have died—”

  “I worked with Devi and Mahinder often enough. Both of them are extremely gifted, especially considering their young age.”

  “Nonetheless, they are trainees.”

  “Shall I remind you that I’m technically still a trainee? I seem to recall you willingly putting your life in my hands a time or two these past six moonturns.”

  Cenric raised an eyebrow. “Not all trainees are as exceptionably skilled as you.” He reached back, giving Joel a firm pat on the shoulder. “Besides, I hardly consider you a trainee anymore. In fact, as soon as you get your internship paperwork signed, you won’t be.”

  “About time,” Joel remarked, stark blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Four years of schooling and an apprenticeship with you was nearly too much to bear.”

  The ambassador scoffed. “The feeling’s mutual, don’t worry.”

  A quartet of white-robed mages swept up to greet them. Portal guardians, they were assigned to hold vigil in the courtyard to ensure no malicious attempts to utilize the rift were carried through. Night and day, they wove protective wards around the portal so no enemies were able to infiltrate the heart of Silver City. It was an important job, being a portal guardian—one Joel had considered taking himself once he graduated. That was before his internship. Shantar had left him longing to do more.

  The lead portal guardian inclined his head in greeting. “Good day, Ambassador Leal. I hope you fared well on your travels.”

  “Thank you,” Cenric replied, smiling. “We go now to report to the King.”

  The mages bowed and went on their way.

  Cenric looked over his shoulder at Joel. “We’ll brief King Rishi and Seneschal Koal—and then I can finally be rid of you.”

  They shared a laugh. Still grinning, Joel turned toward the cobbled path which led to the palace. Light trickled through white clouds above, casting rays of gold across the stonework and illuminating his way. Judging by the low angle of the sun, the day was close to spent. Soon the moon would peek over the eastern horizon, and quick to follow, a cloak of darkness would wrap Arden in a veil of shadow and cold.

  Joel fell in behind Cenric, eager to leave the courtyard behind in favor of the warmth the palace was sure to provide. “I only just grew accustomed to the humidity in Shantar,” he joked. “And now I’ll be ridiculed by my family if I complain the air feels cold here in Arden.”

  “Aye. It doesn’t take long for the blood to thin in the south.” Cenric rubbed his own shoulders as he walked. “But you’ll readjust quickly enough.”

  “I hope so. I feel as though I’ve been gone half my life, not half a year.”

  Six moonturns was a long time to be gone, and while Joel had enjoyed his internship, a sense of relief flooded him to once again behold the familiar landscape of Arden.

  Shantar, a country nestled between the arid wastelands of Shiraz and the powdery sands of Gyptia, was a place like no other. The city of Raja played home to lush foliage and exotic creatures Joel had never before witnessed. Giant red cats with black stripes and sentient, lizard-like Otherfolk called naga prowled the jungle just beyond the city gates. Birds of every color and size perched on rooftops and branches, their songs echoing across the city. They’d long since lost their shy nature—indeed it was possible to put a bit of seed in one’s hand and watch the birds eat from it without fear. I wish I could have shown them to everyone here at home.

  A twinge of anxiety caused Joel’s stomach to roll. Six moonturns was a long time to be away from his loved ones, too—his father and mother, Koal and Mrifa Adelwijn, sisters Heidi and Carmen, brother Liro, and most especially, Gibben Nemesio. Joel swallowed hard.

  Gods, I’ve missed him. I’ve missed our playful banter and philosophical pillow talks. No one knows me as well as Gib. I can tell him anything and know he won’t judge me. Joel smiled as he reminisced about times spent with Gib, the young man who’d come to Silver City three years prior—the boy who’d managed to, in his first year, not only save the King of Arden, but also save Joel from the isolation he’d created for himself. If it wasn’t for Gib, I’d never have been able to pull myself from the darkness.

  When he’d first been offered the internship, Joel had hesitated to accept. His relationship with Gib had been flourishing, but their strength came from facing opposition together. They’d confronted the scandal and, at times, ugly rumors, created by the highborns of Silver City as partners. Any respect gained had been hard earned, yet still Joel heard the hushed whispers and saw the sideways glances among the courtiers. The greatest comfort had been knowing he wasn’t alone—and looking back now, Joel wasn’t sure he would have been able to get through it without Gib.

  When Joel made the decision to go to Shantar, his companion took the news as well as could be expected. Stoic as always, Gib had nodded and wished Joel well, promising the distance would only strengthen their bond. Surely Gib meant it at the time, but Joel couldn’t help but fret about it after all these moonturns apart. Change—good or bad—was inevitable. How much has changed since I last was home? Have Gib’s feelings remained the same? Have mine?

  He pushed the thoughts aside, choosing instead to take in the splendid scenery the royal palace offered. The grand building was barren at this time, save for scores of royal guardsmen patrolling the corridors. Clad in polished armor and equipped with longswords sheathed in gilded leather, the sentinels watched Cenric and Joel in silence as the pair
moved through the stucco-covered halls, still as statues but only a strike away from ending the life of anyone foolish enough to threaten the royal family.

  Every so often, a servant or groomsman would pass by. Each bowed cordially to the pair before continuing on their way, and Joel found himself frowning. The rules of etiquette in the Shantarian courts were so less rigid than those in Arden. He’d nearly forgotten the mannerisms to which he was expected to adhere now that he was home.

  Lost in contemplations concerning his recent travels, Joel followed wordlessly behind his mentor until Cenric stopped to inquire of a royal guardsman as to the whereabouts of Seneschal Koal. The sentinel raised a hand and pointed down the hall leading to the council chamber. “The High Council has been in session all afternoon, Ambassador. They’re due for recess at any time.”

  Cenric thanked the man and started down the corridor. With growing apprehension, Joel followed on his mentor’s heels. If Koal was at the meeting, it was probable Gib would also be in attendance. What would it feel like to lay eyes upon him after so many moonturns apart? Would Gib be as excited to see Joel as the mage was to see Gib?

  The sound of a door flying open drew Joel’s attention to the end of the long hallway. He looked up, heart racing in his chest, as men began to pour from within the arched frame leading to the council chamber. It appeared that he and Cenric had arrived just in time. Peering down the hall, Joel hoped to catch a glimpse of familiar faces within the crowd.

  Unfortunately, it was the face of Joel’s uncle, High Councilor Neetra Adelwijn, which first came into view. With his lips pulled back in a scowl and dark eyes glinting, Neetra conversed with another councilor, snide voice traveling down the corridor, and despite knowing it would be considered impolite not to greet him, Joel stepped back and kept his head lowered so he’d go unnoticed by the High Councilor.

  Joel didn’t dare look up again until his uncle had already stormed past. Good. It appears Neetra didn’t notice me—or didn’t care to stop and say hello. Breathing a sigh of relief, a smile crossed his lips when he next looked down the hall. There, by the open door, his father stood between King Rishi and Marc Arrio.

  “Father!” Joel called, mage robe billowing around his body as he swept toward the men.

  Koal Adelwijn must have heard him, for the seneschal’s head shot up. His blue orbs darted across the crowded hall before settling on Joel, eyes lighting up at the sight of his son.

  Small creases formed around the corners of Koal’s mouth as he smiled and raised a hand in greeting. As Joel drew nearer, he hesitated. Should I—will it be all right to hug him here in front of everyone?

  He wasn’t left fretting for long as Koal took the step forward to put his arms around his son. “Welcome home. Do you feel old yet?”

  “Older perhaps, but none the wiser.” Joel laughed and took the briefest moment to enjoy his father’s affection.

  As the embrace came to an end, Joel noticed Cenric bowing and quickly followed suit. You imbecile. Way to be respectful. Joel wasn’t sure how he’d managed to forget the King was standing right there.

  King Rishi flicked a wrist, motioning for the pair to stand. With a smirk, he turned to Koal. “Fantastic. Your good son has returned.”

  Aodan Galloway, the King’s personal bodyguard, snorted from behind the King, and even Koal’s mouth twitched as though he wanted to laugh.

  A chuckle tickled the back of Joel’s throat, but he knew it would be best to keep quiet. Straightening his back, he rose to his full height just in time to see Koal tense.

  “Brother.”

  Joel stiffened when Liro’s cold voice cut through the room like brittle ice. The older Adelwijn brother stood at the base of the gallery staircase but made no move to come closer. As always, his blue eyes were hard and critical. Joel’s heart pained as he recalled a time when Liro hadn’t looked upon his brother with such condemnation. They’d been friends once.

  “Hello, Liro,” Joel whispered in as civil a tone as he could muster. “I’m glad to see you’re well.”

  “Likewise.” The words held not a trace of warmth.

  “We shall have to catch up sometime soon,” Joel risked, hoping maybe Liro had had a change of heart while Joel had been away.

  Liro locked his jaw. “I have an appointment at the Healer’s Pavilion. I must take my leave.” He gave their father a curt nod and reserved a bow for King Rishi. “Father, Highness.” Turning on his heels, Liro departed without another word.

  When did our relationship become so broken? Joel swallowed his despair and turned toward Marc Arrio next, who gave Joel a hearty clasp on his shoulder. Dean of Academy and longtime friend of the Adelwijn family, Marc had been one of the first people to accept Joel when the mage trainee, then fourteen, admitted to the rest of the world his preference of liking men. Even when the majority of the court turned their backs on Joel, Marc remained a loyal and steadfast ally. He’d even been the one to unwittingly bring Gib and Joel together when they’d been assigned as roommates—an act Joel felt he would never be able to repay.

  “Welcome home!” Marc greeted Joel with a warm tone, perhaps an attempt to cover the chill left in Liro’s wake. “You’ve been missed.”

  Joel flicked a modest smile. “Thank you. It’s good to be back. Congratulations, by the way. While in Shantar, I received word that you and Lady Beatrice are expecting a child.”

  The corner of Marc’s mouth quirked upward. “Who told you?”

  Joel pointedly made an effort not to glance in his father’s direction, earning barked laughter from the dean.

  “It was your father, wasn’t it?”

  “Perhaps,” Joel admitted, hiding a blush behind a strand of dark hair that had fallen into his face. “He may have mentioned it in a letter.”

  “He’s horrible at keeping secrets.”

  Koal groaned and muttered under his breath. “Secret? It wasn’t like you hadn’t already told all of Silver.”

  “Hey,” Marc joked. “It’s worth boasting when a man of my age is still able to perform well enough to make a baby.”

  King Rishi’s thin lips curled slyly. “It’s no boasting matter when it takes a man this long to figure out how the hell to make a baby!”

  Koal rolled his eyes at both men. “Be sure to inform me how well you’re able to keep up with the little one once he begins to run rampant through your home.”

  “I’ll manage!” countered Marc. “And the child only stands to benefit from the wealth of knowledge I’ve acquired over the years.”

  Koal snorted. “Yes. All forty-something of them.”

  As Marc and Koal continued to banter, Joel’s attention shifted to the understudies still standing on the gallery steps. Liro had stormed from the chamber, but three young men remained—his cousins, Didier Adelwijn and Hasain Radek, and, standing beside them, Gibben Nemesio. Joel’s heart hammered in his chest.

  Six moonturns had done little to change Gib’s appearance. Modest of stature but never lacking in bravery, Gib regarded Joel with devout attention, and the smile playing on Gib’s lips suggested he was excited to see the other man. Gib’s hair was longer than Joel remembered—soft mousy curls that just barely grazed his shoulders—and as always, Gib’s rich, sun-kissed skin beckoned for touch. How long had it been since they’d held one another in an embrace? Too long.

  Joel trembled as he studied his companion through heavy lashes but found feet and mind frozen, unable to move or even call out a greeting. It was a good thing Diddy had the clarity to step forward and break the awkward lull, or Joel might have been destined to stand there the remainder of the day.

  “I’m so glad you’ve returned,” Diddy exclaimed. Sweeping up beside Joel, the prince didn’t hesitate to hug his cousin.

  Joel gave Diddy a gentle pat on the back. “Were you worried I wouldn’t?”

  “I’ve read of the lavish parties and vibrant scenery in Raja,” Diddy replied, a twinkle in his dark eyes. “I wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d chosen to t
ake up permanent residence there.”

  Hasain chuckled. “With so much of interest here in Arden?” He flashed a smug smile in Gib’s direction before turning to face Joel. “I’m shocked Joel was gone as long as he was.” Hasain offered his hand for a shake. “Welcome back.”

  Joel felt his face grow warm at the insinuation but brushed it off as Hasain’s best attempt at humor. “Lord Hasain, I do recall you yourself sending letters home, agonizing of a homesick heart, while on your internship only one wheelturn ago. Or have you already forgotten?”

  Hasain’s face pinched, but for once, he seemed to be at a loss for words.

  Joel clasped his cousin’s hand and smiled. “Regardless, thank you for the warm welcome, cousin.”

  The young Radek lord grunted in response, but Joel had already turned his attention toward the last remaining understudy still to be greeted. Gib stepped down from the gallery staircase, wringing his hands together. He seemed unable to maintain eye contact, which was just as well, because Joel was having an exceptionally hard time meeting the other man’s gaze. Joel’s stomach and throat felt heavy, as though a giant rock sat at the base of each and prevented him from moving or speaking, and despite the cool air pouring through the window, the room seemed unbearably warm.

  Joel sucked in a breath of air when he realized Gib was standing directly ahead. Say something! Joel opened his mouth but found himself unable to form words.

  And then Gib’s soft voice rose above the buzzing in Joel’s ears, and the silence came crashing down. “Hello.”

  The single word was enough to break the ice, and Joel found his own voice just as he’d begun to doubt he ever would. “Hello, Gib.”

  “I’m glad you’re home.” A shy, handsome smile crossed Gib’s face. “I–I’ve missed you.”

  “I missed you, too.”

  Joel resisted the urge to kiss Gib, instead, offering a hand for a simple shake. Gib took hold of it without hesitation, squeezing Joel’s fingertips. Joel caressed the other man’s palm for a brief moment before releasing the hand and dropping his own arm back into place at his side. They would have time later for a proper reunion—when their affections weren’t being aired for all to see. As it stood right now, Joel could feel the eyes of the other gathered men upon him.