Nightfall: Book Two of the Chronicles of Arden

by Shiriluna Nott

  Koal barely spared a moment for the display. His stanch eyes were fixed onto his eldest son. “As seneschal of Arden, I tell you there is no foreigner among us. Aodan Galloway is a knighted noble, and his marriage to Queen Mother Dahlia Adelwijn affords him permanent residency in Arden.”

  Conflict flickered behind Liro’s eyes as he paused and looked around the room. “That’s not—that’s—impossible!”

  Bailey, still fanning the damp ink on the parchment, glared at the young lord from his position behind the table. “Oh, but I’m afraid it’s not impossible. See for yourself, young Master, and then go tell that tyrant, Neetra Adelwijn, that he’s too late!”

  Gib watched as Liro floundered, mouth agape. When the councilor turned to look at the sentinels who’d accompanied him, they wouldn’t meet his terrible gaze. Red faced, Liro drew his mouth into a thin line. He knew he was beaten. A smile crossed Gib’s lips. This victory—small as it was—was a victory nonetheless.

  “You may take your leave now, Councilor Liro.” Koal’s stance was rigid, one hand still hovering over the hilt of his sword and expression unreadable.

  Liro scowled, baring white teeth. Raising one hand, he pointed furiously at Aodan. “Don’t think this is the end! We’re watching you, monster!” Aodan remained colorless, but he clutched Princess Gudrin tightly and dared meet the manic eyes of his oppressor. Liro snarled all the louder. “And we’re watching all of your little monster bastards as well. How long can a bird stay caged without spreading its wings?”

  Gib watched in bewilderment, beginning to think Liro truly had lost his mind. What is he ranting about? Why is he talking like that?

  “Enough rambling from mad men,” Koal growled. “Leave already.”

  Balling his hands, Liro strode toward the door without a further word. His silence was enough of an indicator of his bruised pride, and Gib couldn’t help but smile wider. It felt good to have something to celebrate again—

  Liro’s cold stare bore into Gib, and he realized an instant later that he might have embraced the conquest too soon.

  “So this is the vacant grin of a peasant.” Liro sneered down at Gib as he passed by. “I suppose your utter lack of education can be blamed for that, but this—” The councilor licked his thumb and rubbed it across Gib’s cheek before he could even think to balk. “Look, the dirt is so ingrained it won’t even wash off. What game do you play at, thinking you’ll ever be equal to the likes of me?”

  “Enough sulking! Be gone!” Koal’s savage reprimand boomed off the walls and made everyone jump. Gib would have shied away too, if not for the emptiness serving to ground him.

  Liro rolled his eyes and headed for the door, but Gib’s hand shot out on its own accord and grabbed the councilor’s forearm, preventing him from taking another step. Words were falling from Gib’s mouth before he could tell himself to stop. “I would never dream of being your equal, Liro. There’s nothing about you I wish to become. You may appear flawless on the outside, but that pristine façade hides the ugly truth. Inside, you’re ugly and dead.”

  Liro yanked his arm away. “How dare you speak to me that way, you filthy little—”

  “Time’s up. Last warning.” Koal crossed the room in three long paces. “Need I escort you from the room, Councilor?”

  Liro’s mouth dropped open, but he made no sound. Scarlet rage stole over his face before he turned on his heel and stalked away, the royal sentinels marching twice as fast to catch up. The sound of receding footsteps echoed down the corridor until it faded entirely.

  Gib set a hand against the doorframe to steady himself. Despite Kezra at his side and Koal’s hand gripping his shoulder, he felt like his knees might give out. Distantly, he lifted his arm to wipe the grimy spot on his cheek where Liro had touched it.

  “Are you all right?” Koal’s placid voice helped bring Gib back to the present.

  He shuddered when, for a moment, he thought perhaps everyone would be watching him, but it came as a great relief to find almost no one paid him any attention at all.

  The royal family had collapsed on itself, and quiet tears were being shared as they embraced one another. Aodan looked like hell. Still blanched from his close encounter, he leaned heavily between Diddy and Tular, and Gib was certain if either young man moved, the bodyguard would have toppled to the floor. Gudrin cried into Deegan’s side while Queen Mother Dahlia rubbed the little girl’s shoulders, doing all she could to comfort the princess with soft murmurs. Their desperation was difficult for Gib to watch, but at least the family hadn’t been torn apart by Neetra’s tyranny. Not yet, anyway.

  “Would you like Natori and me to accompany you?” NezReth asked as Koal took the newly scribed documents from Bailey’s hand.

  “If you would,” replied Koal, taking care not to crumple the parchment. “Marc and Roland are going to escort me as well.”

  The Blessed Mage folded his arms. “With so many of us present, no one will be able to deny the documents were delivered.”

  “Indeed. I’m going to stay and watch them as they’re recorded. Knighting and marrying Aodan won’t do us any good if the documentation is ‘lost’ or tampered with.” Tired eyes scanned the room before Koal lifted his voice to address everyone present. “All of you young ones, any who aren’t staying, feel free to take your leave now. So long as you’ve signed both scrolls, you’re dismissed.”

  Kezra’s elbow nudged Gib in the ribs. “I’m going to leave now.”

  Gib had to trot to keep up as she slipped through the door in a rush. “I’ll walk with you.”

  They weren’t ten steps outside the suite before they heard a commotion as the others scrambled into the corridor. Glancing over his shoulder, Gib saw Nawaz running to close the gap between them. Joel lingered near the doorway, hands at his throat as his disconcerted eyes watched his cousin.

  “Kezra.” Nawaz somehow managed to keep his voice neutral, but his face was beet red. When she didn’t acknowledge him or slow her pace, the young lord raised a yell. “Kezra!” Gib pressed his back to the wall as Nawaz sprinted past. Reaching out, he grabbed for Kezra’s arm, but she twisted away, barely breaking stride. Nawaz let out an exasperated sigh. “At least look at me!”

  Kezra whirled around so fast Gib winced, sure she was going to punch her scorned lover again. The blow never came. She clenched her hands, but they remained at her side as she turned feral eyes onto Nawaz. “What?”

  “Are you just going to pretend I don’t exist?” Nawaz asked, chest heaving. “Damn it, Kezra, I had no choice!” His voice was labored and bursting with hurt. “You refused me and I had to marry! Won’t you at least speak to me?”

  Kezra’s dark face contorted. “How’s your wife?”

  Nawaz locked his jaw. Even from a distance Gib could see the indignation and despair carved onto his face. “Pregnant, if you really must know.”

  His devastated, broken voice struck Gib hard in the chest, and Kezra’s eyes went wide. She took one teetering step backward. “You—you lie. Tell me it’s a lie.”

  Nawaz hung his head. “We were going to announce it sooner, but then everything with King Rishi happened and there just hasn’t been a good time. I–I wanted to tell you in person.” Tears glistened in his hollow eyes when he next raised his gaze. “I’m sorry, love. I’m so sorry.”

  He reached for her again, this time toward her face, but Kezra rejected the touch. Shaking her head in disbelief, she turned and fled.

  Nawaz didn’t give chase. Instead, he leaned against the stone corridor and buried his face in his hands. The sounds of wracked sobbing echoed down the corridor, the only noise to be heard in the entire palace. Sucking in a deep breath, Gib began to cross over to his friend, unsure what words could possibly be said to comfort him but determined to lend support. Nawaz had been there for Gib in his time of need, after all.

  Gib stopped short when he noticed Joel had crept over and placed a hand on Nawaz’s shoulder. One glance down the hall confirmed Hasain was also on the way, mou
th twisted into a grimace as his guild-laden eyes studied his friend. Gib silently backed away. Joel and Hasain knew the young lord better than anyone. If they couldn’t bring solace to Nawaz’s shattered soul, then what hope did Gib have? Head down, he departed, wanting nothing more than to return to Academy and leave this entire mess behind.

  “Gib!”

  Joel had to raise his voice to be heard above the rolling thunder. Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating black clouds, heavy with rain, and a tepid breeze rushed through the palace courtyard, the powerful gusts blowing Joel’s hair about his face.

  The bottom of his robe brushed the cobblestones as he trudged forward, never taking his eyes off Gib’s back. The events of the day were a whirlwind in Joel’s mind. With the election of Neetra Adelwijn as Arden’s new steward, the country’s worst fears had been realized. Liro’s promotion onto the High Council came as a double blow. Everything King Rishi had worked so hard to accomplish was now at risk of crumbling, including the King’s own family.

  “Gib, wait!” Joel called again. He’d been trailing his former companion since leaving the royal suite. Assured by Hasain that he’d see Nawaz home safely, Joel had run to catch up with Gib. They needed to talk. “Gibben Nemesio, stop!”

  Ahead, Gib slowed his pace but didn’t stop or turn to face Joel. The mage quickened his steps, closing the remaining distance between them in a matter of seconds. As he came within arm’s length, Gib lurched to a dead halt and twisted his head around.

  “Please,” Joel said, sides heaving as he gasped for air. “Please talk to me.”

  A single, icy raindrop fell from the sky, splattering onto the tip of his nose and cascading down his cheek. Only a moment later, a deafening crash of thunder tore through the night, announcing the impending storm. The sky above opened, and sheets of rain began to pelt the palace courtyard.

  Neither Gib nor Joel moved. Within the blink of an eye, their clothing soaked through and clung to their bodies like a second layer of skin. Lightning flashed in the distance, giving Joel a clear view of the twisted grimace contorting Gib’s handsome face.

  “Is this how you want it to be?” Joel screamed above the gale. “Fighting, barely speaking to each other? Like Nawaz and Kezra? Is that how you’d have us be, Gib? Strangers? Enemies?”

  Gib’s strained voice fought to be heard over the roaring wind. “This is what you wanted! I tried to be there for you, but you drove me away! You told me to live my life!”

  “I didn’t mean for us to never speak again!” Joel wiped a strand of drenched hair out of his face, absently noting Gib’s crown of chestnut curls were plastered atop his head. “I can’t go on like this. I can’t keep pretending like we never met!”

  Water cascaded down the small creases in Gib’s face, dripping from his nose and chin. “It’s too late, Joel. I’ve moved on. I can’t—can’t keep doing this with you. We had our chance and it didn’t work out.”

  Joel’s stomach heaved as bitter bile rose to tickle the back of his throat. So it was true. The kiss between Zandi Malin-Rai and Gib hadn’t just been a casual gesture. Gib really was pursuing someone new.

  Another clap of thunder crackled through the night sky, and Joel cringed. Rain lashed his face, tempering the jealousy manifesting in his chest. “I’m not asking to be your companion. I just want you in my life. As friends or any other way you’d have me. Just—” He reached out, latching onto Gib’s soaked sleeve. “Just please, don’t walk away again. I–I need you. We need each other, now more than ever before.”

  Gib glared at the ground. A river of rainwater flowed beneath their boots, forming white peaks as the wind whipped it across the courtyard. When Gib looked up, his teeth were chattering. “With everything that’s happened as of late, I just wish we could talk, like we used to.”

  Raking numb fingers through his dripping hair, Joel nodded. “A talk would be nice—somewhere dry, preferably.” He peered through the downpour, into the darkness beyond the alabaster fountains and shriveled shrubbery. “Come to the estate with me. We can be out of the rain and have some privacy.”

  An eternity passed before Gib replied in a hushed tone, barely audible above the tempest. “All right. Lead the way.”

  When they arrived at the Adelwijn estate, Mrifa herself let them inside. “Where’s your father?” she asked, moving aside so they could enter the foyer.

  Joel turned to close the door, struggling against the might of the gusting wind. “He’s still at the palace. Mother, I have to tell you something. Neetra has been made—”

  “I know.” Mrifa set a hand on his forearm. “Word spread quickly about your uncle’s promotion. Tabitha overheard the news while she was at market and rushed home to tell us.” She pursed her lips. “What of Dahlia and Aodan? Your father was worried Neetra might try something foul.”

  “They’re married,” Joel replied at once. “Gib and I were witnesses to it. They’d barely signed the documents before Liro came and tried to banish Aodan from the country!”

  “Liro?” Mrifa’s eye widened. “Why Liro?”

  Joel’s chest tightened. He was doing all he could to remain composed, but he could feel the deep, agonizing hopelessness seeping into his veins. He hung his head. “Liro’s been promoted. He’s on the High Council now.”

  Mrifa’s hand shot to her mouth, stifling a gasp. “Oh no.”

  “What’s going to happen to Arden?” Joel asked, his voice quivering. “With Neetra and Liro in power and the King dead, I just don’t know how Father is going to keep everything from falling apart.”

  Mrifa reached up and set her hands against Joel’s cheeks, gripping his face the way she might comfort a small child. “You don’t worry about that right now. Go sit by the fire and warm yourselves, both of you. I’m going to brew you a pot of tea.”

  Mrifa ruffled Gib’s hair and spared him an affectionate smile as she hurried off in the direction of the kitchen. Joel blinked, watching the interaction. It was his fault Gib never visited the rest of the Adelwijn family anymore. He was the reason Mrifa and the girls hadn’t seen Gib in two moonturns. I have to try to fix this. If not for my sake, then for the sake of my family. They love Gib as much as I do. He’s a part of our family, whether he knows it or not.

  Joel motioned with one hand for Gib to follow. “Come on. Let’s go sit by the fire and talk.”

  Half a mark and one quick mage spell later, they sat in front of the hearth with dry clothes and warmed blood. Otos had entered briefly to stoke the fire. Now the flames roared high, nearly drowning out the sound of rain thwacking the terracotta roof above.

  Joel had been holding his hands out, close to the fireplace, to warm his fingertips. He withdrew them and set them in his lap. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his former companion doing the same. Drowsy heat beckoned Joel to relax, but his melancholy thoughts couldn’t be quelled.

  Everything had happened so fast. Four mornings ago, he’d been sitting in Marc’s office, making plans to start his life over, and now King Rishi was dead and Joel’s wicked uncle was in control of the High Council and probably all of Arden. And then, to be rushed into the royal suite and asked to bear witness to Dahlia and Aodan’s marriage—Joel blinked. It all seemed so incredulous. Was anything in his life real anymore, or had he been existing in one unending nightmare since returning from Shantar?

  “It’s strange to be back here.” Gib’s very real voice cut through the room, as sharp as a needle.

  The young man stared straight ahead, firelight flickering in his chestnut eyes. Perfectly placed stoicism masked any emotions he might be feeling, frustrating Joel to no end. There had been a time when they’d both known one another’s thoughts even before words could be spoken. Now Joel couldn’t even fathom a guess as to what Gib might be contemplating. How did we drift so far apart?

  “It’s strange to have you back here,” Joel replied quietly. “It seems like so much time has passed since we last sat in this room together, but it really hasn’t been all that lon
g if you think about it.”

  Gib sighed, pulling his hands tight against his chest and holding them there, clenched together. “I’d almost forgotten how welcoming it feels when I walk through the front door.”

  Joel turned to stare at the other man. “You’re always welcome here, Gib. Regardless of anything concerning you and me. Mother and Father think of you as a son. They love you. You know that, right?”

  Gib nodded, still refusing to meet Joel’s imploring gaze. “I know. I love them, too. It’s just—it’s hard—” His voice shook. “I hate this. I hate this wall between us.”

  “I know.” Joel wrapped his arms around his frail shoulders, the warmth of the fire not enough to ward off the chill creeping down his spine. “I never wanted this to happen. I never intended for us to be strangers. I—” Tears stung his eyes as he took a gasping breath. “I miss you horribly, Gib. You—you’re my best friend. You know me better than anyone else in the world.”

  “I’ve missed you, too.” Gib toyed with a loose curl absently. “And I’d rather have you in my life as a friend than not at all.”

  “I feel the same,” Joel said, staring into the swelling flames. “Now, more than ever, we need to stick together. All of us do. Dark times lie ahead, but in numbers we can find strength. The friendships we’ve forged have never been more important than they are right now.”

  Gib shifted in his seat and turned to look at Joel. “What do you suppose will happen? With Neetra being in control?”

  For a long time Joel remained quiet. He didn’t know. How could he? He wished to The Two that he’d been born with the ability to glimpse the future, but foresight had never been one of his gifts. There was no real way of knowing what lay ahead. His gut feeling was one of dark foreboding, too terrible to think of, let alone speak aloud. Nothing good could ever come of Neetra being elected steward.

  He sighed. “Who knows what fate has in store for us? All we can really do is hope for the best and prepare for the worst.” Joel offered a rigid smile but knew the gesture fell flat. In the moment, he couldn’t have pretended to be confident even if his life depended on it. How could he, with so much at stake?