We filed into the room behind Angelo: Isla first, followed by me, Dugan, Thor, and Castille.
The tall woman was trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. She must have been worried about being found out as a deserter.
The solar was a private living room in a manor house reserved for a noble's family. It was less formal than a great hall and better lit. Sunlight spilled through windows framed on one side of the rectangular room. A fireplace was on the other side, and between them stood a lacquered wooden table and cushioned chairs.
My eyes were drawn to the end of the room. Three portraits hung on the wall below an arched ceiling: three Kings of Luskaine. The first was Peter Luskaine, the Conqueror. His piercing blue eyes were set in a stern, clean-shaven face. His blonde hair was cut close into a neat haircut. He stood tall in full plate armour, one hand resting on a long sword, stabbing the ground. The next was Luke the Lame, a thin-faced man in voluminous white robes. The loose clothing hid the wasting disease that claimed his life before he turned forty. The third was Matthew Luskaine, the country's longest-ruling king and Isla's father. He wore a bright smile on a handsome face framed in blonde, wavy hair. A navy gambeson completed the look. That, and the white stallion he rode.
My eyes wandered down to that King. The decades had not been kind to him. His blonde hair was bleached white. His face was crinkled and craggy by the weight of his duties. He looked like a man in mourning, wearing all black except for his golden crown. The King sat in a large chair carved from dark wood. The Crown Prince sat beside him on a smaller, yet equally ornate chair. The kind of chair reserved for the King's consort. He had replaced his simple wool tunic with a forest green jacket embroidered with silver thread. Caf flanked them on their right, standing tall and staring at a man in a red jacket in front of them.
The King's sad, blue eyes drifted away from the man to focus on us and flicker with recognition.
"Isla!"
He smiled, and the whole room became brighter.
Spirits below. First, the Prince and now the King. It wasn't fair…
"Father! Take this seriously!"
All eyes were drawn to the man in red.
Father?
"First, Maker's Row is destroyed, then a Dahlgeshi kills Rugar Centovian, and now this! This is a coordinated attack by Dahlgesh. We have to hit them back!"
The King raised his hand.
"I've heard the reports, and we have the crisis well in hand. Bernard, please give us the room."
"But-"
"You are dismissed, Bernard."
"Bernard, go. We'll speak later," Caf said.
Bernard huffed, turning on his heels and shoving past Angelo. I was wrong to call him a man. Despite a broad, muscular frame, he showed telltale signs of puberty. The oily sheen of his skin, the peach fuzz growing above his upper lip and the chip on his shoulder.
He paused to glower at me and Isla. I couldn't tell who he hated more. He brushed between us, whipping his shoulder-length blonde hair in my face.
Isla sighed.
"He doesn't like me very much."
"I would never have guessed."
The door slammed shut behind us, and the King drooped in his chair.
"Hit them back he says. What does he think we've been doing for a hundred years?"
He let out a laugh that sputtered into a dry cough.
"He's young," Caf said.
Alex leaned to one side of his chair, propping his elbow on the arm and resting his head in his hand.
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"He doesn't see the big picture. We were hoping you would help with that, Caf."
The Captain of the Guard dipped his head.
"I fear it will take more time."
Alex smirked at Isla as we walked closer.
"It may take forever; bullheadedness runs in our family. Isn't that right, Sister?"
Isla gasped. Her eyes darted from Alex to the guard at the door and then Angelo, who moved up to stand beside the Crown Prince.
The King raised a comforting hand.
"Worry not, Isla. Angelo and Vincent are members of the royal guard. They know your heritage. I'm told everyone in this room knows…"
He flashed a sad smile, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as his gaze swept over each of us.
My stomach twisted.
Did he know that I shared his secret with the Sanctifiers?
The King continued.
"When I asked you to become strong for the coming storm, I didn't expect you to run away, Isla. You worried us."
He chuckled.
"You should have seen Caf's face!"
The Guard Captain grumbled but said nothing.
Isla blushed, and, in a heartbeat, she devolved into that scared girl I first met in the capital.
"I-I'm sorry. I couldn't become stronger here, and I knew you wouldn't let me leave."
"Maybe so, Sister, but you should have taken an escort of royal guards. What if something happened to you?"
Alex scoffed.
"Spirits, something did! You were gone for two months and came back barely alive with one foot in the furnace!"
He shook his head.
"And here I thought my sister was smart!"
Isla's face flushed red. She stood straighter, pulling back her shoulder blades and balling her hands into fists.
I'd seen this before with Cynthia and Cindra. Siblings had a way of getting under each other's skin.
"I couldn't take an escort! I look like a noble enough as it is. Even if they stayed undercover, all it would take is one person finding out who they were to make the connection back to Father. I was being careful."
Alex gave Isla an incredulous look.
"Careful?! You-"
The King laughed, cutting off the Prince's sentence.
"Rebellious… just like your mother."
Isla folded her arms.
"I was only doing what you did, Father, touring the country and seeing it with my own eyes."
The King nodded.
"Perhaps, all my children could use such worldly experience."
Caf stiffened.
"With a proper escort."
The King gave him a dismissive wave.
"Yes. Yes, of course."
His hand went down to pat the Crown Prince's.
"Are you OK, Son?"
I raised an eyebrow.
The Crown Prince's eyes were moist. Beneath his anger was genuine concern for Isla's life. That was unusual for bastards and their trueborn siblings.
"I'm fine," Alex said, brushing away the King's hand to rub his eyes.
"I know you are."
The King turned back to us.
"You're travels have changed you, Daughter. Months ago, you would be the one close to tears. There is a… hardness to you now—an edge. How did this come to pass?"
Isla dipped her head.
"I only did as you asked, Father. I made myself strong to weather the storm."
"And I'm proud. To think, one of my children would make Luskaine whole."
He stretched out a feeble, shaking hand.
"I feel it. The Dellends back in the fold."
A wave of heat washed over the room. Over the palm of his hand, a molten orb of metal materialized. The orb split into three rings with a round core at its center. As it cooled, I realized the rings and core were made of different metals. Bands of copper, iron and silver revolved around a sphere of gold.
"Now that's a magic trick," Castille said, whispering behind me.
"You shouldn't strain yourself, Father," Alex said.
The King laughed.
"This?! This is child's play!"
He closed his hand around the object, turning his fist sideways to drop the crumpled replica of the Grand Terraformer on the stone floor.
"Now, come! Let me get a better look at you."
We shuffled forward one at a time to take the King's hand. First was Isla.
He gave her a warm smile.
"You look more and more like your mother every day."
"T-Thank you, Father."
She stepped to the side. I was next.
"Now, this is a surprise! I think there's a half-elf underneath all that bruising. Did our guards rough you up?"
"I fell."
"You fell?" Alex asked.
"He fell," Angelo said, with a shrug.
The King snorted.
"Our guest is as brave as he is clumsy. Step forward."
I walked up and pressed my forehead against his knuckles.
The Crown Prince waved me closer and took my hand.
"The work of a prince is never done."
He smirked.
"Let's not make this a habit."
Another surge of warmth rocked me back on my heels. The swollen flesh of my face shrank. My cuts healed, and blackened scabs flaked off my face.
I blinked, testing out different facial expressions.
"Makes punch, doesn't he?" The King asked. "Alexander is the most powerful healer in the country."
"You're too kind, Father."
"And you're too modest. Next."
I moved aside to let Dugan and Thor walk up behind me.
The King leaned forward to scratch Thor's head.
"A bonded animal. Intelligent too. There are few better companions."
Thor grunted in agreement.
Dugan pressed his forehead against his knuckles and whispered.
"I know."
Last was Castille. She clenched and unclenched her hands.
"A veteran of war. Tall one, aren't you?"
"Y-yes, my King."
"Well, I'm too tired to stand, so you'll have to kneel."
"O-Of course."
She got down on one knee, took his hand and pressed her forehead to his knuckles.
Alex clapped his hands together.
"Now that the formalities are over, we can actually talk. Isla-"
KNOCK! KNOCK!
Our heads turned to the door at the front of the solar.
The royal guard, Vincent, cracked it open and then turned to look back at us with a sour expression on his face.
"The Sanctifier is here."
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