Ten
“Here goes nothing,” Caius murmured to Ascalon. His brother tore his gaze away from Scarlet and Isolde, the smile that had blossomed at the sight of the former fading as he focused on Caius, who stood grave-faced and serious beside him.
Something was wrong and he couldn’t put his finger on it, but in his heart of hearts, he knew there was something—just not what.
“You’ll be fine,” Ascalon said quietly, half a second before the sound of Caius’s majordomo’s staff against the floor rang out, plunging the room into sudden silence.
“His Grace Caius Ezra Tristan Horatio, High Lord of Elfaedil, Master of Weatherstone and the Thornwood, commands your heed.” The majordomo’s voice was clear, firm, and echoed through the space, cutting through the silence like a hot knife through butter. “Turn your eyes to him and listen well.”
Next to Ascalon, Caius winced slightly. His gaze slid sideways for a moment and Ascalon met his eyes.
Hell of a time to get a case of nerves.
“You can do it,” Ascalon mouthed, then stepped back half a step. Caius took a deep breath and stepped toward, wrapping both hands around the railing as he leaned against it, looking out over the assembled guests below.
“Good evening,” he said, his voice firm and even, carrying to every corner of the space. Ascalon knew it would reach every ear at the same calm, measured level, not too loud nor too quiet, thanks to the simple amplification spell Caius had long ago mastered for occasions such as this. “Welcome to Weatherstone. I am pleased that you all have been able to join us this evening, as the request I am about to make of all of you is one of great solemnity and importance. It is a request to help restore a lost piece of Elfaedil’s legacy, a piece of our history that has been lost for nine hundred years.”
A faint ripple of murmurs flowed through the crowds below, people exchanging glances, whispering to each other. It was the reaction they’d expected, planned for.
Just keep going. You can do this.
“Many of you are familiar with the tale of the Sapphire Crown,” Caius continued, gaze roaming over those assembled in the room below him. “And those of you that are, I beg that you will grant me the forbearance needed so I can tell those who are not.” He paused for half a beat, then forged onward. “The Sapphire Crown was once a part of the regalia of Queen Tiana of Elfaedil, before the Sundering split our world into the lands we know today. Legend says it was an object of great power, forged by the greatest dwenomer smiths of ages past whose techniques are lost to us now in these modern times. Some tales go so far as to stay that the materials that went into its crafting were blessed by the gods themselves. I will admit that I do not know the truth of it, but I know this: nine hundred years ago, the crown was lost during the Sundering. The last known record of it is at the Battle of Nylan in the mountains of Deith, far to the south of where we stand now. It was said to be in the possession of the queen and her retinue at the time of the battle. After that moment, after that battle, we do not know what happened to it, for there is not a single record where it is mentioned since then.”
Caius spread his hands. “Some of you may scoff at me for believing it was not somehow destroyed in the Sundering and I admit that for a long time, I thought the same. But we have heard reports and rumors from the south, from the deep woodlands of the Dravenwood, from the scrub forests that cluster around the skirts of the mountains of Deith.” He paused. “There have also been dreams.”
A fresh ripple ran through the crowd, the murmurings growing louder. Ascalon took half a step forward again, scanning the gathered below with a critical eye.
Something still felt wrong, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
Caius lifted his hands, waiting for a few moments until the murmurs died away to nothing. He took a deep breath and continued, tone measured, words coming with gravitas that Ascalon had always known his brother was capable of but rarely experienced. “Seers have seen and Dreamers have dreamed, my friends. Something’s changed—something’s awakened—and I have reason to believe it is linked to the reemergence of the Sapphire Crown.”
“So what the hell do you want us to do about it?” a voice called from the crowd. Try as he might, Ascalon couldn’t pinpoint its owner. Caius didn’t seem to care.
The Lord of Elfaedil smiled. “I want you to find it.”
The room erupted.
The cacophony was so much and so sudden it left her head ringing. Elaine looked toward Joslyn, who stood with her jaw clamped shut, gaze trained on Caius above them—and on Ascalon beside him, standing half in the shadows, half not.
“I’m guessing this isn’t the usual sort of reaction,” she hissed at her friend.
Joslyn shook her head slowly. “No. No, it’s not.”
There were too many people talking at once, some amongst themselves, others shouting up toward the Lord of Elfaedil as he stood on the balcony, just watching the crowd, expression not quite concerned, though not quite impassive, either.
Elaine’s jaw tightened. “This is insane,” she said, half to herself and half to Joslyn. “Someone needs to calm this shit down. He’s clearly got more to say.”
“How can you tell?”
“You can’t?” Elaine shook her head and took a deep breath.
It shouldn’t take much, should it?
She was a healer by training, but she still had a few additional tricks up her proverbial sleeve.
Focus.
“Isolde? Isolde, what are you doing?”
Electricity raced up and down her limbs, setting her hair on end. She focused on a spot high above, in the center of the room, well clear of the galleries and the ceiling.
Focus.
“Isolde.”
Three.
Joslyn’s eyes had widened, as if she realized what her friend was about to do. “Don’t.”
Two.
She lifted one hand.
Joslyn seized her other arm, hissing in her ear. “Elaine!”
Release.
Silver-green light shot from her palm to the spot she’d chosen. It arced upward, then started to descend once it reached a point a few feet blow the ceiling. Already she could hear the sound of steel rasping against steel, sounds that she ignored. The bolt of light exploded into a shower of sparks, enough to draw the attention of most of the crowd.
“Enough!” she roared, her voice echoing in sudden startled silence. “Your lord speaks! Be silent and listen for there is more for him to say.”
Silence reigned for the span of a heartbeat. She could see some figures moving through the crowd toward her, steel already drawn.
“Hold.”
It was Lord Caius’s voice and the sound of it arrested the figures in mid-stride, their attention snapping from their quarry—her—to him. The Lord of Elfaedil leaned against the balcony, staring down at her, expression impassive.
“Harm her and you answer to me,” he said. “Sheathe your weapons and heed what I am about to tell you. The lady is correct—there is more for me to say, if you would hear it. Will you?”
A soft murmur rippled through the crowd, most voicing assent, though a few were grumbles. Glares were thrown in her direction an Elaine shifted her weight from one foot to the other, knowing that with one act she’d made enemies of people she’d never met before today.
Next to her, Joslyn exhaled in relief and let go of her arm.
Caius’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before it shifted to encompass the whole of his audience once more. “The Sapphire Crown is said to hold immense power,” he said, his voice deceptively quiet, though somehow it carried to the very back and edges of the great hall, reaching every ear. “That makes it sought-after and dangerous all at once. The extant records don’t speak of what it can do, but there are legends and stories that will be made available to those of you who choose to take up the hunt. Know this, too—the power of the Sapphire Crown is said to be linked to particular lines of descent dating back centuries before the Sundering. Our aim in this is to recover a piece of our history, not to recover some kind of weapon of mass destruction. It is to be returned to Coronet to be added to the collection of artifacts held in safety here. I hope that is clear.” He paused, gaze raking over those assembled in the room. Elaine felt a chill shoot down her spine.
There was a promise in that gaze, and the promise was not a kind one at all.
“As more and more information is gathered about the Sapphire Crown, it will be distributed throughout Elfaedil,” Caius continued. “Working together we are more likely to find what we seek than alone. Lord Dravenwood will be the main point of contact for information to be passed along. Further, we have reason to believe that there may be other artifacts dating to the same period that are reemerging. Those, too, will be important.
“Together,” Caius said, his voice abruptly gravelly, “we will solve this mystery, my friends. Together, we will learn why here and why now—and where these items have been for all this time.
“Enjoy the festivities this evening. I hope they will not be the last for a long time.”
He stepped back, then, into the shadows of the gallery above them, and for a few moments more, silence lingered. Elaine barely dared to breathe.
Joslyn tugged at her hand. “Come on,” she whispered in her ear, just as a murmur began to ripple through the crowd, only growing in volume.
Swallowing hard, Elaine nodded and let her friend tug her toward the shadows that lurked beneath the galleries.
Caius didn’t stop backing up until he reached the wall behind him. He pressed his spine against it, taking one ragged breath, then another. The shadows of that upper gallery cloaked him, though he wished they were something more solid than they were, something more tangible. It was written all over his face—a look Ascalon had seen many times before, though never quite this intensely.
“It’s all right,” Ascalon murmured, stepping in front of his brother, hiding any bare glimpse of the Lord of Elfaedil with his body. “That went surprisingly well.”
“Who is she?” Caius asked in a faint voice, staring at his brother’s shoulder for a moment without seeing it. Ascalon bit back a curse and reached for Caius’s shoulder. Startled, his brother glanced up at him, then asked again, “Who is she, Ascalon?”
Ascalon blinked at him, a frown creasing his forehead.
Caius swore under his breath. “The one who shut them up. Who is she? I don’t remember—I don’t remember seeing her at one of these before.”
Grimacing, Ascalon glanced away. Caius watched him, slowly straightening.
“Ascalon.”
“What?”
“You know her,” Caius said slowly, his voice quiet. “Don’t you?”
He nodded once.
“But you won’t tell me her name?”
“It depends on why you want to know it, Cay.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” The question came quietly, curiously. “Do you think I’m angry?”
Ascalon’s stomach twisted. He wasn’t sure what he thought. “No.”
Caius exhaled an explosive breath through his teeth and shook his head. “Fuck-all, Ascalon. You know me better than that.”
“You’re right,” Ascalon said. “You’re right, I do.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and turned to face his brother squarely. “Lady Arenvale. She’s a friend of Scarlet’s.”
Caius studied him for a moment. “But she’s never come before, despite invitations. She’s never been here before.”
Ascalon shook his head. Caius’s brows knit.
“Why now?”
“That’s a question for her, Cay, not for me. I don’t know. I don’t have any answers for you.”
Caius swallowed and looked away. “I want to meet her,” he said, his voice quiet. It sounded strange, an emotion buried there that Ascalon couldn’t quite identify—nor was he certain he wanted to.
“I think I can arrange that,” Ascalon said softly. “Are you going to wait here?”
Caius nodded. “For another few minutes, anyway. I’ll let the clamor die down.” He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “Someone needs to tell the orchestra to start playing.”
“I’m sure someone will soon,” Ascalon said, heading quickly and quietly toward a hidden stairway down to the main level, hidden in the dim of the shadows along the back wall of the gallery. “Just—just say here.”
Caius flashed a thumbs-up, leaning against the wall again and staring toward the balcony, expression a little grim—enough so that it made Ascalon’s heart give a painful squeeze. None of them ever thought of how heavily this all weighed on him sometimes. It wasn’t fair, but at the same time there was little they could do.
He was the Lord of Elfaedil, and with that lordship came very particular responsibilities.
Still. He was his brother, too, and with that came another specific set of things.
His foot hit the steps and he hurried down, quiet, hoping that no one would notice him as he reached the bottom and eased out from behind the tapestry that hid the bottom of the stairs from the rest of the great hall. Hopefully, he’d find them quickly and—
“Ascalon.”
A shiver shot through him and he exhaled a sigh of relief, kicking himself. He shouldn’t have worried—Scarlet knew this stairway and would have wanted to get to him as quickly as she could after everything that had just happened.
I’m an idiot.
Scarlet and Isolde were only a few feet away, already deep in the shadows beneath the gallery. The rest of the great hall was still loud, still abuzz with the announcement. He estimated about half would leave immediately, collecting small chapbooks full of information on their way out, intending to start their hunts for the Sapphire Crown tonight. That was all well and good—the fewer hot-heads any of them needed to deal with for the rest of the evening, the better.
A few of those hot-heads would linger, though, and perhaps one or two would be convinced there was more that hadn’t been revealed, either in words or in the chapbooks. Those were the ones that concerned Ascalon the most.
For a few seconds, though, all of that stopped mattering. He cleared the space between he and the pair of women in two quick strides, took Scarlet by the shoulders, and kissed her within an inch of both of their lives. For her part, she startled, then wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him for the few moments that the kiss lasted. When they both finally came up for air, she canted her head to one side, a brow arched, eyes glittering in the dim.
“What was that for?”
“Everything and nothing,” he whispered, then leaned in for a briefer, more tender kiss. Her fingertips grazed his cheek and he smiled as he stepped back, taking a deep breath.
She and I need to talk.
The thought startled him, even as right as it felt.
He glanced toward Isolde and managed a wry smile. “Hello, Isolde.”
She shot him a crooked smile of her own. “Lord Dravenwood.”
Ascalon shook his head. “Ascalon, please. Always Ascalon.”
“Is everything all right?” That was Scarlet, her fingers tangling in the sleeve of his doublet. The thread of worry in her voice made his heart ache just a little. “That announcement…”
“It will be,” he reassured her, wrapping an arm around her and drawing her into a one-armed hug for a few seconds. He exhaled a sigh and looked at Isolde. “Caius wants to see you.”
She winced. “If I was out of line—”
“You weren’t,” he said, hoping it sounded more reassuring than it felt. “You were fine. He asked to meet you. That—that doesn’t happen very often and almost never happens at something like this. I think you impressed him.”
Isolde blushed and shook her head. “I just did what felt right. That’s all.”
“It was the smart call,” he said quietly. He’d known Isolde for a little while now, though mostly through Scarlet. The pair were close and knowing how much Scarlet trusted her was almost enough for him—would have been enough for him, truth be told, even before he’d met her himself and formed his own opinions. She was focused, driven, but there was a softness and kindness to her that was achingly rare in people.
He shouldn’t have been surprised that she out of everyone in the room had silenced the crowd so his brother could finish.
“Come on,” Ascalon murmured, letting go of Scarlet and turning back toward the stairs. “He’s waiting for us.”
Scarlet caught his hand and squeezed as he led the way back to the stairway, Isolde trailing behind both of them. Together, the trio headed up the shadowed stairs back to the gallery, where Caius still stood with his back against the wall, staring at the crowds milling below, beyond the rail. He was pale and seemed like he was a thousand miles away even if he was physically present with them.
Ascalon swallowed.
Keep your shit together, big brother. I know you can do it.
“Cay?”
He startled slightly, glancing toward them. “I didn’t hear you come up,” he murmured, straightening from his lean. His gaze flicked from Ascalon to Scarlet before finally settling on Isolde. Something softened in that gaze as he studied her, though she didn’t seem to notice the softening, only his gaze on her. She looked down, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
“I owe you my thanks,” Caius said after a few moments of silence. “You didn’t have to do what you did.”
“Yes I did,” Isolde whispered, still not looking at him. “They weren’t listening and you had more to say. You’re the Lord of Elfaedil and they should damn well shut up and listen.” She blushed darker, as if realizing what she’d just said. Her fingers bunched in the fabric of her skirt.
Caius just laughed.
