by Carli Castle
King Patrick thought it was important to give them the dignity of speaking face to face, and, as Lucas stood at the front doors to the palace, he agreed. It was up to them to give these people some hope. It was only fair.
Lucas had been in the palace to visit the King several times before, but this time he was so nervous he wanted to throw up on the front steps. His stomach churned as he stood by the double golden doors, looking down at his shoes as Caleb lifted his hand to knock. His brother didn’t actually touch the knocker, it just lifted on its own, and slammed against the door three times. He breathed in through his nose and let it out through is mouth, trying hard not to panic. He could hear the noise of the knocker echoing inside.
They didn’t wait long before the door opened and the usual butler, Stanislaus, came to stand in front of them, his nose in the air and his face as stiff as it always was.
“Good afternoon, President Sillen, Mr. Ferrin,” Stanislaus said, stepping aside to let them in. “King Patrick and his guests are in his office waiting for you.”
“Thank you, Stanny,” Caleb said.
Stanislaus, as expected, bristled at the nickname. It was a normal exchange between the butler and Caleb, and normally it was fun, but this time, it didn’t feel that way. It was forced, and, looking at Caleb, Lucas noticed he was not into it as much as usual.
“Stanislaus,” the butler said, raising his chin.
Instead of the usual response, where Caleb pretended that he didn’t know it wasn’t okay to call him Stanny, Caleb only smiled and they followed Stanislaus to the king’s study.
They made their way into an enormous lobby with a sweeping, double staircase spilling onto it. It lead to the royal family’s personal spaces. King Patrick and his wife, Queen Isabel, had three daughters. All three were beautiful, and sought after. Lucas didn’t see much of them, except for the oldest, Harper, who held a spot in the council. The other two stayed out of the spotlight more, probably because they didn’t have as many responsibilities as their oldest sister.
There was a big table in the middle of the room, which had on it a tall ceramic vase filled with many different flowers and foliage. It was a beautiful arrangement, but he had to wonder if the person that made it knew they had used several herbs that could be used for healing potions. He doubted it. Most people preferred to buy their potions at the apothecaries and didn’t bother to learn what their ingredients looked like.
There were two big, ornate, golden arches, one on each wall to the left and right of them. Walking under the right one, they passed through to a wide hallway, where many paintings adorned the walls. Normally, Lucas would admire them, but he didn’t care today. He just really wanted to get this over with, if he was honest. He wanted to talk to Lana’s parents, go home, and go to bed.
They walked toward the end of the corridor, where a heavy, dark door was closed, and Caleb knocked on it.
“Come in,” came King Patricks’ muffled voice. Caleb glanced back at him, and Lucas could only lift his brows very briefly before Caleb opened the door and they entered the study.
King Patrick was sitting on a chair in front of a fluffy sofa that sat under a window. The whole room was well lit with natural light. Beyond the main office was a simple wooden arch that led to a library, which was impressive. Lucas had enjoyed the opportunity to browse through it before. It was a dream come true for a person who loved to read, as King Patrick had an amazing selection of books. A lot of them were, interestingly, written by sleepers. It was something he had in common with King Patrick, and he liked that.
How he wished he was there to browse the library.
He stood by the door, looking at the two distraught people huddled on the dark green sofa. His heart constricted, feeling how inadequate their message would be.
King Patrick got to his feet. He was an impressive man. He had a kind face, with deep set green eyes, bushy eyebrows, and gleaming brown hair. He also had the most extraordinary mustache, and though Lucas didn’t really like facial hair on himself—mostly because he couldn’t grow a good beard—he could definitely appreciate it on others. He was tall, taller than Lucas and even Caleb, and his chest was wide. He reminded Lucas of a bull.
“Thank you for being here, gentlemen.” King Patrick shook both their hands, then gestured to the man and woman on the couch. “President Sillen, Mr. Ferrin, let me introduce you to Joan and Peter Juren. They’re the parents of Miss Lana Juren.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Juren, please let me express my most sincere condolences.” Caleb stepped forward and took Mrs. Juren’s hand, then Mr. Juren’s. There was an air of anxiety about Caleb, though no one else would notice. He was good at hiding it, but Lucas knew him too well.
Mrs. Juren stayed silent, tears streaming down her face. Mr. Juren, however, became angry, his face turning red, his nostrils flaring.
“And what are you planning on doing about this, sir,” Mr. Juren asked, voice angry but wobbling slightly.
Caleb stepped back, startled by the outburst. Not many things took Caleb by surprise, it was the reason he’d been President of the Council for so long and since such a young age. But right then, he looked at a loss for words.
“Mr. Juren…” Caleb started, but Mr. Juren immediately stopped him.
“Don’t ‘Mr. Juren’ me, President Sillen,” the man shouted. “My daughter was just murdered in a forest where she was supposed to be working. A forest in a land you’re supposed to be protecting.”
Lucas thought that was a little unfair. Things happened, however horrible, and Caleb was a good president. Expecting for him to be able to take responsibility for every single thing that happened was impossible.
Thankfully, King Patrick stepped forward between Caleb and Mr. Juren.
“Mr. Juren, I understand what you’re going through, but President Sillen is really doing all he can,” King Patrick said gently. Lucas stood back, away from the four of them. “We are all working extremely hard to find whoever’s responsible for this.”
“And yet, here we are with no answers! Her soul hasn’t even come forth to tell us. Why can’t we even get a little closure,” Mr. Juren yelled, his eyes filled with tears. “My daughter is dead! She left in the morning for work, and never came back! We’re never going to see her again and you have nothing for us.”
“Honey, please,” Mrs. Juren whispered, putting her hand on her husband’s arm. He seemed to immediately calm as he looked down at her. “These things do take some time.”
“I have daughters, Mr. and Mrs. Juren. I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose one of them in such a way.” King Patrick spoke quietly. “But, I promise you, we will find answers for you. And whoever did this will pay to the fullest extent of the law. The fact that she hasn’t returned is something that has all of us confused and scrambling for answers, as well.”
Mrs. Juren nodded, but her husband only looked out the window. Mrs. Juren then looked straight at Lucas. He didn’t have to have any empathic powers to know the pain she was in. It was there in her brown eyes, in the way she sat with her shoulders slumped. He stepped forward, bowed his head, ready to hear what she had to say, no matter what it was.
“You were the one who found her,” Mrs. Juren asked him as she finally stood and all he could do was nod. “And you didn’t see anyone?”
“I’m sorry,” he murmured and shook his head, wishing there was something else he could say.
“You find who did this and bring them to justice,” Mrs. Juren said, looking at all of them.
Lucas nodded as if the words were directed just at him, a knot in his throat stopping all words from coming out.
The Jurens left shortly after that, and Caleb, the King, and Lucas were silent for a long while.
“I’ve heard the details of the scene,” King Patrick said. “Lucas, I’m sorry you had to see something like that.”
“With all due respect, Highness, I’m not the one you should feel sorry for,” Lucas said, meaning every word. Sure, he was disturbed by
the whole thing, and he knew he would have a really hard time getting rid of the image that was burned in his brain. However, he wasn’t Lana or her parents. He wasn’t her brother, boyfriend, or even her friend. Those were the people going through insurmountable grief, and he definitely didn’t want to be the focus of the tragedy. He wanted people to think of a seventeen year old girl who was senselessly killed.
“It’s still not something you can come to terms with easily, son,” King Patrick said, putting his hand on Lucas’ shoulder and squeezing lightly. “Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to have a word with Caleb.”
“Yes, sir.” Lucas turned away, glad to be able to get out of the office, which had started to feel stifling. He walked out the door, down the hallway, and out a side door to the gardens. It was mid-afternoon, the sun shining high in the sky, making that day the warmest they’d had so far that spring. It was pleasant, clear, and seemed so peaceful. It was too much of a beautiful day for the things that had happened.
As he stepped out onto a wide terrace overlooking the gardens, his mind went back to the Jurens and the heartbreak they were experiencing. He didn’t have children, he didn’t even know if he ever would, but he did have a family he loved, and he knew with certainty how devastated he would be if he lost one of them, especially in that manner.
Sighing, he looked at his surroundings. The terrace where he stood was long and wide. There was a long table on one side of it, with a large white umbrella open over it, and twelve chairs around it. It had a wrought iron railing along the short wall, and a small, ornate door that opened to the gardens. The palace grounds were enormous, with many different kinds of flowers growing straight from the ground, in bushes, on small trees. There were white benches placed here and there on the stone paths, convenient for people to sit and read, or do whatever it was royalty did in their spare time. The flowers were still young, but Lucas could already see buds beginning to open. Most of the flowers were white, with some pink sprinkled in the mix.
He’d heard Queen Isabel preferred it that way. He found it quite monotone.
He opened the little gate and walked onto the green grass. He liked walking through here, admiring those amazing, tall trees with drooping branches, the flowers that grew straight from the ground, and the ones that grew in thorny bushes. He took one of the paths that was lined with budding lilies, crossing a small bridge, listening to the babble of the small brook that crossed under it, and before he knew it, he was at the entrance of a walled garden. He’d known it was there, but he’d never seen it, and he’d always wanted to. Hoping the garden was empty, so that he could be alone to gather his thoughts, he walked toward the entrance. It was arched, with vines growing all over it, on the ceiling, casting it in shadows, with rivulets of light spearing through them to the smooth ground. They were as green as if they were in the middle of summer, and they had started to fill with flower buds. He reached a heavy, wooden door, which he pushed open to enter the garden. It was breathtaking.
The walls were dark brick, solid, with more vines creeping up over them.
It was shaped like a clover, with four smaller chambers in rounded corners, and a large water fountain in the middle. In the middle of the fountain, there was a statue of a slim woman, her foot floating just over the water, and a large vase on her shoulder, which had water flowing from it, into the pool. He walked toward one of the chambers, impressed with the beautiful plants growing there. It smelled of summer nights and morning dew. He took a seat on a bench made of glossy stone with intricate patterns carved into it. He’d never before understood why there would be a garden within a garden, it seemed like a waste of time, but now that he sat under a young aurora tree, he was grateful for whoever had thought of building it. There, he felt peaceful, like he was away from the rest of the world, and he liked that feeling.
In this chamber, there was a small bird bath with clear water in it. It was made of the same stone as the bench, with the same kind of designs carved into it. Around him, there were many large decorative pots with flowers in them, and behind him, the young aurora tree moved softly in the breeze. He looked up at it.
Now, that was an interesting plant. It was tall, growing to be almost twenty feet sometimes, and they grew gigantic flowers that slept during the night and woke up with the sunrise, hence their name. They changed colors throughout the day, sometimes taking more than one color at the same time. They were truly gorgeous, and were purely decorative, and you couldn’t pick them because the flower died the minute it was pruned off the tree branches. They didn’t grow in any of the other magical islands in all of the United Realms.
He put his hands in his hair and sighed deeply.
He’d never felt so exhausted. His shoulders hurt like he’d had a sack of potatoes laying there all day long and his stomach remained a bundle of knots.
He lifted his head and a movement caught his eye. And all he could think when she stepped from around the fountain was: wow.
She had long, nearly black hair. She was just a little bit taller than average, slim as a wand, skin like alabaster. Her pink lips were smiling, and the smile reached all the way up to her eyes. Violet eyes. She was absolutely magnificent. The stuff of dreams, really.
“Hi.” Her voice was like nothing he’d ever heard. It was like listening to a symphony.
His mouth was full of cotton, he was sure of it, because he could only stare at her.
“Hi.” He cleared his throat when the word came out like a croak.
She walked toward him like she was floating on a cloud.
“Princess Aiessa.” King Patrick’s second daughter. Lucas quickly stood and bowed to her.
“Mr. Ferrin, how do you do?” She stood in front of him. He jerked his head once, unable to speak again.
She brought her long, narrow hand to her hair, and her fingers sparkled with jeweled rings.
“You seem on edge,” she said when he didn’t offer any other words.
“I am on edge.” He didn’t really know how to talk to her. His brain felt like it was full of water.
“Why’s that?” She took a seat on the bench he’d been on. He stayed standing, not sure of what to do. “Tell me what’s bothering you, Mr. Ferrin.”
“You mean you haven’t heard yet,” he asked her, and she looked confused. “A girl was killed in the forest this morning.”
“Oh my.” She brought her hand to her lips and her eyes seemed very far away for a moment. “And do you know who did this?”
“No, we have no idea, but I really don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“I imagine not.” She stood again, coming closer to him.
She smelled amazing. He had the wild urge to lean in toward her and breathe her in more deeply. It was an insane thought and he had no idea where it came from. It didn’t make the desire weaker.
“This is a nice, peaceful place to be in after a jolt of that kind,” she said, smiling a little.
“A jolt.” He had to smile, even though he found no humor in it. “There’s an interesting word to describe it.”
Her smile only widened, her fascinating purple eyes sparkling. She had a compelling smile, quite mysterious. He knew so little about her, and he wanted to know so much more. Something inside pulled at him. He wanted to know everything about her. Her lips were beckoning him like a light would attract a bug.
“Maybe you will know it all in time,” she murmured and he looked at her, confused. How had she responded to a desire he hadn’t spoken of out loud? Or maybe he had said it out loud and hadn’t even noticed. He was that distracted by the ball of nerves in his stomach.
She came closer to him and his head filled with that intoxicating scent of hers. It was pleasant, filled his senses in ways he never thought possible. He wanted to kiss her, felt himself moving closer to her, her eyes pulling at him. And just as suddenly, she slipped back from his reach and she looked over his shoulder, her expression turning to one of annoyance. He glanced back over his shoulder, and saw the attr
active brunette that entered the walled garden, the youngest of the three princesses, Eleanore.
As the fog in his brain began to clear, he asked the heavens why these attractive women didn’t appear when he was feeling particularly charming, not that it happened often. It didn’t matter anyway, because in Esmeralda, it was illegal to have any sort of romantic entanglement with a princess unless you were tied to royalty yourself. Also, he mostly felt awkward when he tried to do so.
“And here comes my little sister. If a cynic is what you’re looking for, she’s your girl,” Princess Aiessa said, her lips stretched into a smile.
Ordinarily, Eleanore would sneer and walk in the opposite direction, but she was perfectly aware that her sister was using her pheromone power on the poor guy, who probably believed himself completely in love with her.
She realized it was Lucas Ferrin, and wanted to save him even more. He wasn’t just any jerk, he was actually a decent human being, as far as she knew. She’d never had any long conversations with him, but she didn’t have to.
She stood next to her sister, wishing she was two inches taller. She’d always felt too small next to Aiessa. Even more when Lucas Ferrin came closer and towered over them both. He bowed, as so many people did when they were in front of her.
“Oh please don’t do that.” She waved her hand at him. She hated when people bowed at her, she wasn’t some sort of saint.
“I believe you know my charming little sister, Mr. Ferrin,” Aiessa said, smiling.
“I do,” he responded, looking straight at her.
“I’m not little anymore,” Eleanore corrected, turning to look up at her sister, too aware she sounded like a child.
“I beg to differ,” Aiessa quipped, looking down at her with her brows raised. Eleanore’s blood boiled, though she refused to be drawn into Aiessa’s game. Aiessa looked back at Lucas. “Isn’t she just delightful?”
“Oh, stop.” Eleanore didn’t even spare her another glance. “Mother’s been looking for you, by the way.”
