Page 11

At the crack of dawn, I wake to Lucetta pummelling at the door for Akilah to get up and play. I dress, grab my cloak, and chase Lucetta all the way to Mother’s chambers. My niece sits glued to my lap while Mother fusses around me in delight. We breakfast together, and I escort her as she prepares, reluctantly, for her herb collecting excursion.

Akilah is serving Quin breakfast at an outside table, for once impeccably dressed with a respectful sort of countenance I’ve never seen on her before. I drift towards them and halt when I realise Mother has followed. She’s eyeing Quin curiously; there’s no way Mother will believe me if I introduce him as an aklo. Not with the way he angles his chin like that. Not with the way he looks at me.

“Who is this beautiful man?” she whispers.

Akilah’s perfect composure wavers as she chokes on a cough. I yank my gaze away from Quin and pull my mother in another direction. “Never mind him.”

“Is he courting Akilah? I’d happily welcome him into the family.”

“He’s already married. Let’s go.”

“Such a shame. Why is he here?”

“He’s a... ah... He came with me.” I kiss her cheek. “I’ll visit again soon.”

She has tears in her eyes as the wagon moves away; I wave until she’s out of sight and when I turn back, Akilah has disappeared and Quin is watching me. The closer I come, the more his eyes glint. “A what? A friend ?”

I scowl and flick my finger at him. “You were not acting your part.”

“You take after her—the blond hair, your eyes, your smile.”

“She has Iskaldir allure.”

“She called me beautiful.”

“I’m sure she was drawn in by your godlike jawline.”

Lucetta flings herself against my side, Akilah chasing after her once again. “Can you come camping with us?”

Akilah catches her breath. “We’ve been planning the trip for weeks.”

I kiss the top of Lucetta’s head. “That sounds like so much fun. I’ll come next time, alright?”

She nods and makes me promise to visit again soon before she dashes off. Akilah embraces me hard. “By the way, how’s our Florentius?”

Florentius! I stiffen. “I may have left him in a canal full of toads.”

She laughs and disappears after Lucetta, and I’m left with Quin and an entire day before us.

Quin, possibly reading the apprehension on my face, raises a brow. “I have people to see at the dance academy. You can explore the market.”

“Cael!”

I twist to see my father crossing the courtyard with three thick books and a sack that smells of sacredbloom. He stops and hesitates before thrusting the sack my way. “You and your aklo can drop this off at the luminarium.”

I groan inside, and nod. “I’ll be on my way.”

I pivot to leave and he clears his throat, halting me. He deposits the books in my arms and I almost drop the purifying sacredbloom. “They’re your grandfather’s. His research.”

I feel the thump of my heart through the books I clutch, like they’re pulsing with life. He kept them?

He steps back abruptly, watching me without so much as a glance in Quin’s direction. After a long moment, he turns and goes back into the house.

I drop my face for a few long breaths against the top of Grandfather’s research. Thank you, Father.

I toss the sacredbloom to Quin, who catches the sack without a word, and wrap the books carefully in cloth so I can carry them on my back when we set off shortly after.

My feet drag as we near the luminarium and after a reluctant bow before it I stop moving. Quin shakes his head with a smirk and barks at me to hurry inside. His borrowed cane snaps behind me, forcing me up the seven steps to the arched entrance. When I cower at the threshold, looking into the empty circular nave, the cane meets my buttocks, pushing me inside.

I rub the offended area and scowl at Quin, who is clearly enjoying himself.

Instinctively, I reach out to tug his hair and pull back sharply, grabbing the sack of sacredbloom from him instead. “Let’s hand this over and head out.”

The snick of his cane on the polished floor echoes as he ventures towards the timber columns holding up the dome. It might not be as impressive as the one in the royal city, but there is plenty of beauty in here. Frescoed walls in good repair, and on a plinth under the dome, where the violet oak stands in the royal luminarium, a tithiscar. Only two luminariums in the kingdom are lucky enough to grow a violet oak; the rest have a coffer carved of the sacred wood—a tithiscar—a spiritual vessel into which the local linea gift magic when paying homage.

Our luminist kneels before that vessel and is summoning magics into it, as he does every morning.

Quin and I respect his space, waiting in a niche across the room. The space holds a bench on which Quin sits with obvious relief. “You’re not happy with your local luminarium?”

“We won’t see eye to eye on this.”

“That hasn’t stopped you before.”

I sigh deeply. “When have I ever sworn to the Arcane Sovereign and meant it?”

Quin turns his head slowly towards me and blinks, twice, drily.

Must’ve used that line with him a few times. I flash him a fool’s smile. “I’m not afraid of luminariums, I’m frustrated by them. They are beautiful but shallow. Look at this space, so large and sheltered. Yet it remains empty while so many crowd around fissures under bridges to keep warm.”

Quin grimaces and curls an impatient hand for me to continue.

“Luminism also should not mix with the judicial system.”

“Only misuses of magic are judged based on the teachings of the Arcane Sovereign. Other infractions are judged under civil law, based on Goffridus—”

“Why can’t all infractions be judged under civil law? Luminists should not have the right to execute entire families because par-linea dare to use higher magics.”

“What else?”

“Those who want to believe in the Arcane Sovereign and his beliefs should, but it should not be thrust upon all.”

“It’s not thrust upon all. Everyone has a right to choose.”

“You pay fewer taxes if you can prove you regularly attend your local. How is that a choice? The working class are forced to pay homage with this. And when we come here, we’re to reflect on spiritual teachings. ‘Moral teachings’ propagating the idea that if we live virtuous, modest lives and follow the rules of the linea, then in a future life we’ll be reborn as linea.” I laugh hollowly. “Is this not simply a way to keep us under control?”

“Without rules, there’s chaos. In chaos, the kingdom would collapse, we’d be taken over by neighbouring powers; violence, death, submission. And the rules in those other kingdoms? No better—even more rigid than our own.”

“So the answer is to live with it? To count ourselves lucky?”

“You will not change everything, Cael.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Doesn’t mean others won’t. Luminariums offer comfort. Hope. Community. Friendship. Support. They are part of our culture and our identity. Who are we without them?”

I don’t have an answer to this and am relieved—possibly for the first time—to see our luminist approaching. I stand abruptly and my cloak plummets towards the ground. Quin catches it with the end of his cane and holds it out for me. I grab it with a silent groan and knot it hastily at my throat.

“The Amuletos family donate sacredbloom,” I say, holding the bag out to the luminist.

He takes it, opens, and breathes it in. “Did you dry it for long enough? We want to purify the air in here, not make it musty.”

I smile tightly. “Have we ever given sub-par sacredbloom?”

“It’s not the rest of your family I distrust.”

My smile stiffens and I give a small bow. “We’ll be on our way—”

“Who is this?” The luminist eyes Quin and roots his gaze on his face, like everyone who sees him for the first time must. His beauty is simply otherworldly, they can’t help themselves. “A new face in our luminarium. And such a pretty one.”

“He’s my aklo. We’re off.”

Quin darts a look my way, which I ignore, and the luminist steps closer. “Perhaps you were born lowly, but follow the teachings of the Arcane Sovereign, embrace the laws of our tremendous king, and you may be reborn into good fortune.”

Tremendous king ? I choke and Quin thwacks me on the back.

The luminist swings his head my way, nose flaring. “How dare you!”

Quin speaks, “Caelus is merely... curious. Perhaps you can enlighten him why our king is ‘tremendous’?”

“But of course. I’m here for your enlightenment, after all.”

The luminist begins a monologue of praise for His Majesty that is so overblown, even His Majesty finds it unbearable. Quin curls his lips in a mocking smile. “Indeed. That great, is he?”

“He’s the highest born linea. He must have lived an exceptionally virtuous previous life. He can do no wrong.”

I turn my head to Quin, raising both my brows.

Quin clears his throat. My body lurches trying to hold in a laugh and I hurriedly bow my leave and race out.

Quin follows a minute later, after I’ve let out my belly laugh to bewildered passersby. He looks at me warningly, and my lip quivers. “Let’s go.”

There’s a spring in my step as we move away from the luminarium and into the market. Quin lets me steer him wherever whim takes me. I flash shiny things in front of his face, curious which will capture his interest. He seems to like the wind chimes, and the puzzle cubes. When I get distracted by some newly published vitalian books, he spends considerable time conversing with the owner at a jewellery stall. I peek over my book as he hands over a gold nugget in return for a silky pouch. Something pretty for Veronica, perhaps?

He looks up and I lower my gaze to the neatly inked pages in front of me. I clap the book shut and set it aside, scanning the others on the stand as he nears.

“I’m heading into the academy,” he says.

“Can I visit Skriniaris Evander?”

He hesitates, then hands me his coin purse. “Straight there and straight back. One hour.”

Not three minutes later, I spy Quin at the open window of his room at the academy, overlooking the market. He’s speaking to someone but I can’t see... I look away and refocus.

I find Skriniaris Evander stroking his cat in the sunlight that stretches onto my favourite desk. “Cael! What brings you here?” He looks behind me, as if expecting other company. “You didn’t escape, did you?”

“Would you turn me away if I did?”

He laughs. “Sit. I keep experiencing pins and needles in my feet. What could be causing that?”

I lean in. “Have you given up sweets?”

“Gah!” He wags his finger at me. “You never tell me what I want to hear.”

I grin. “You never listen to what I say.”

I untie Grandfather’s books from my back and peel open the fabric.

Evander scoops Taffy from the table into his arms. “What have you got there?”

“Grandfather’s research.” I look up from the leather-bound books. “You may not agree with it.”

He peers at the title inked onto the outside of the first book. “Wards?”

I nod, swallowing.

He rises and settles Taffy in my arms—the first time he’s ever let me hold her. He reaches behind a plank of wood on a shelf in the far corner and pulls a book out of its dusty cave. “When a large donation came to the library last year, I got this and a few others secretly. No book should ever be banned.”

His words spark a warmth in my chest that reminds me of the moments my grandfather patted my shoulder and told me stories of simple herbs making lives better... saving lives...

I stroke a purring Taffy, each pass of my fingers through her white fluff like the strengthening of an unspoken bond between the three of us.

My fingers pause at a knobble at the base of Taffy’s tail and my voice comes out croaky. “Taffy has an old wound here.”

“Mmm, his majesty found her with a broken tail.”

“His majesty?”

“When he was a young prince.” He grows quiet for a moment, then gives me a wobbly smile. “Constantinos found her, but his father would not let him keep a cat, especially a broken cat. He asked me to take her. That way, he could spend time with her after our lessons.”

I rub behind her ears and smile softly. That’s why he has Generalus for his son. Secretly, he’s a cat person. “Was his father so strict?”

“A complicated man. Perhaps the reason his sons are suffering under their uncle.”

“What do you mean?”

“King Anastasius was the younger son. He took the title of crown prince from his elder brother.”

“Took?”

“He believed his intelligence made him the better choice and set a trap to disgrace him. He wanted to show that in a pinch, his brother would make stupid decisions, corrupt decisions. And he was right.”

“The high duke wants to take back what he thinks should be his.”

“He spent years trying to regain his position, only to have it confirmed time and time again that he’s not fit to be king; he’s short-sighted, stupid.” Skriniaris Evander sighs. “The high duke is after the throne, but I believe more than that, he wants to prove his father and brother wrong. To prove he’s capable. Smart. Worthy of their love.”

I frown, struggling with a swirl of sympathy.

“It doesn’t help that the only friend the duke had, the only one who gave him any sense of love and worth, was killed by crusaders along with his entire family.”

I let out an anguished breath.

“Do you pity him?” Skriniaris Evander asks softly.

I cast my gaze to the pavilions outside.

“Good. That’s good. No one is born bad in this world.”

“But it can’t forgive his ruthless actions. He’s killed many innocent people.”

“Indeed. But it’s also a lesson in the importance of nurturing—of kindness; of compassion.”

I look at Skriniaris Evander. “Why do I feel there’s more to those words?”

“There is. You have a responsibility to help nurture Constantinos into the king he needs to be for the people.”

“I—I’m a struggling scholar!”

“He is a struggling king.”

“He already has plenty of confidence.”

Skriniaris Evander leans in. “He’s a very good actor.”

“Shouldn’t... shouldn’t this be something his brother should do? Or his wife?”

“His wife was a political choice, made by his father. His brother, equally, was determined by birth. They will both impact his growth, but you are different. You may have a more profound effect on him than anyone.” He emphasises each word. “He chose you.”

I rock back in my chair; hard wood scrapes along the floor and Taffy jumps off my lap, startled. “I-I think you misunderstand the depth of our relationship.”

Kind eyes crinkle softly at the edges. “I don’t think I do.”

* * *

I rearrange grandfather’s books on my back and fluff my cloak for air. It’s been strangely hot since I left the library.

Wrong. Skriniaris Evander is wrong. Quin didn’t choose me—we kept tripping over one another, and have simply learned to live with it.

I shake off the strange conversation and hurry along the cobbled streets of the inner capital. Brazen birds pick at crumbs left on outdoor tables, and a family of mice skitters along the gutter, shooed away by a broom-wielding matron preparing for the lunch crowd.

A young boy of eight or nine rushes past me, grazing my side, his eyes focused ahead, arms cradling a package close to his chest. He zooms around the corner, towards the market. In the distance behind me, heavy, wheezing shouts.

A middle-aged, white-aproned man pauses to puff then bursts once more into a jog.

I’m not keen to interfere without knowing the full story, but I’m able to watch the show since the speedy boy is headed in the same direction. He zigzags through throngs of marketgoers, leaps over a cart of potatoes, and trips over a distinguished-looking man, knocking them both into an ink stand.

People gather in a circle around the pair as they rise from the debris, ink all over them. The stall owner looks on aghast, speechless, as the man orders his aklo to hold the boy while he examines the stains on his elegantly embroidered robe in dismay.

The boy struggles for his freedom, but the aklo is well-practiced and restrains him easily.

I edge into the circle surrounding the scene and halt when I see the man’s face. It’s the judge who sentenced Akilah. The judge who presided so rigidly over the execution that took River’s life. I’ll never forget that face.

“Please, lemme go. Lemme go,” the boy pleads, the package he hugged now dangling from string looped around his finger.

The judge sharpens his gaze on the boy’s dirty face, his patched clothing. “This garment is worth more than a dozen of your lives, runt.”

The boy’s eyes open wide, panic settling into them. “Please, I have to go.”

“You’re not leaving until I’m adequately compensated.”

“I have no—”

“Thief! Hold that boy!” The aproned, now wheezing man barrels through the onlookers into the circle.

“Who are you?” the judge asks sharply.

“I’m from the dispensary two streets back. That boy stole a package of verdeflora.”

“A thief too.” The judge turns to the writhing, crying boy and snatches the package from him, tossing it to the apothecary.

The boy whimpers. “Please. My mama’s sick. She don’t get this—”

“One less beggar.”

My stomach balls into a tight knot. It’s hard to breathe. I recall it all. The judicial courtyard. The desperation. Being at the mercy of this man; the cruel reality that he doesn’t care about fairness.

“Hold on,” the judge says, a tight smile tipping his thin lips. “How could someone like you afford a mage to administer these herbs?” He barks a delighted laugh. “Quite a bit of law-breaking going on today.”

That vitalian, whoever they are, is me six months ago—saving people with spells we’re not allowed to touch.

“Aklo, cut off his hands.”

Aklo shoves the boy onto his knees and knots his wrists together with magic, stretching them out on the dirty stone before him.

I lurch forward and fling myself wide between the aklo and the boy. “Stop.”

Aklo looks to the judge, and the judge turns his sharp gaze on me, nose twitching. “Who are you?”

“I am the mage who agreed to treat this boy’s mother.”

“Arrest him!”

I brandish my soldad. “Qualified.”