Nightfall: Book Two of the Chronicles of Arden (4 page)

Neetra waved a dismissive hand. “Well,
that’s
another topic for debate entirely. We all know not everyone here is in favor of providing for those who refuse to provide for themselves—”

The councilors erupted into fierce debate yet again, and Gib groaned. He didn’t know how any of these politicians put up with this every day. They never made any progress. The same things were argued over for ages, and rarely was anything accomplished.

Hasain nodded as if he understood Gib’s thoughts. The Radek lord’s voice was a low whisper, barely audible over the din below. “I don’t envy Deegan for his throne.”

Gib thought to respond, to offer some well wishes for the young Crowned Prince, but Liro’s boot tapping the back of the chair reminded Gib to grit his teeth and keep silent. He might very well lose his mind if ever he were to become a politician and have to sit across from Liro Adelwijn each day.

The general’s voice had risen once more to claim dominance over the gathered men. “Highness, you must understand in times such as these, Arden cannot be compromised in any way. Feeding all these extra mouths takes away from our troops—”

King Rishi’s strained voice suggested he’d about had his fill of politics for one day. “General Morathi, there will be no
need
for troops if our peasants starve to death!”

“There will be no peasants if our lands are overtaken by the enemy!” Neetra’s shrill voice carried all too well in such confined quarters.

“The imagined enemy? From which border?” Koal didn’t typically rely on sarcasm, but his use of it now effectively shut his younger brother’s mouth.

The King and seneschal shared a smug smirk but couldn’t hope to go uncontested.

Morathi stood, his tall form looming above the table. “Highness, I must implore you to consider these suggestions carefully. With the threat of war on both our eastern and northern borders, and a call for help from our allies in Gyptia, we are stretched thin.”

Marc nodded. “Gyptia is a powerful ally. We need to be sensitive to their needs during their own time of war.”

Neetra stuck his nose in the air. “Gyptia is a large country. I say their war is their own. It’s their own questionable practices which have brought about civil unrest. Their peasants have been allowed too many luxuries. They forget their place.”

Koal shook his head, a grim look on his face. “Mass revolt is a complicated situation, but I agree we need to be available to Sovereign Khalfani. He has treated with us and vowed to come to our aid, should we need it.”

The general and High Councilor shared a dark look.

“It’s not Arden’s responsibility to hold Gyptia together.” Morathi’s voice commanded absolute attention.

Neetra nodded. “Agreed! What business is it of ours if their ungrateful peasants revolt?”

King Rishi groaned. “Ungrateful! What an idea, councilors. Imagine—the slaves don’t like being slaves! Perhaps a lesson can be learned here before we ourselves condemn innocents to slavery and starvation. We may even prevent a civil war of our own!”

The council room burst into another bout of angry debate. Gib clenched his jaw. Their arguments were enough to wear on even him, and he didn’t even have a voice on the matter. He looked out the window, realizing with dismay that nearly no time had passed since the meeting commenced. Marks of this petty debating still lay ahead! How could he ever hope to make a difference when his time came to speak on the council? Was all of this just a waste of his time and Koal’s resources to sit in this seat and learn skills for a job Gib grew to despise more with each passing day?

He thought back to his first day in Silver, when he’d been a terrified boy of thirteen, drafted into the military and taken away from his home and family. No choice had been given to him. Neetra and other men like the High Councilor did not care that Gib had two younger brothers to feed and care for. They had no care if his story hadn’t been a rarity. Other families just like his—broken and trying to keep their heads above water—had also been torn apart to suit the needs of the army.

Gib sighed. He had to stay here. He didn’t pursue this career in hope of title and wealth in his old age. He stayed the course in hope that real change was possible. Too many innocent people in Arden could only pray for change while he’d been lucky to fall into a place of potential power, and despite his dislike for the political world, he had a responsibility to uphold.

Gib stayed for the remainder of the meeting—another two marks of stifling arguments. He even forced himself to remain present and consider what was being said, to form his own opinion and think of questions to ask Koal later.

He was grateful when the session was called to an end. The moment King Rishi approved the dismissal, Gib was on his feet.
Hasain and Diddy were quick to follow, both stretching their stiff muscles. Gib didn’t wait for them. He made for the stairs, hoping he could reach the ground floor before he was forced to wait for the councilors to clear the hall. He also didn’t want to share the tight stairway with Liro if it could be avoided.

“Well, I suppose that was enlightening,” Diddy said, scurrying to catch up. “I see now why Father warned me about entering politics.”

Hasain stayed a step behind as they made their way down the stone stairs. “That wasn’t even the worst of it. There have been times when I thought there would be physical blows.”

Gib nodded in agreement. “It’s true. You’ll see as much, if you decide to come back.”

The council room doors burst open at that moment, and the politicians began to pour out. They rushed with such speed that the three friends were forced to wait on the stairs to avoid being trampled. Morathi and Diedrick swept away together, speaking among themselves while Koal, Marc, and the King stood inside the door and waited for the stampede to recede.

“Well, isn’t this cozy?”

Gib tensed. Liro had caught up with them after all. The surge of bodies in the hall below showed little sign of dissipating. Gib had to force himself not to jump and hope for the best. Being trampled might be preferable to being stuck here with someone as foul as Liro Adelwijn.

Ever civil, Diddy took it upon himself to make small talk. “Hopefully the crowd will clear soon.”

Liro’s sigh was audible over the crowd. “I have an appointment with the healers to get to. Let me through!”

Gib locked his jaw, but before he could even part his lips, Hasain answered.

“Do you think we’re standing here for sport? You’ll have to wait your turn like everyone else.”

Tension rippled around them, and Gib chose to look across the hall in a desperate attempt to ignore Liro. Koal, Marc, and King Rishi hadn’t dared move yet either, though they’d been joined by the King’s personal bodyguard, Aodan Galloway of Derry. The four were talking among themselves just to the side of the doorway, and Gib wished like hell he could make his way to his mentor. He’d willingly stand in silence while the older men vented if it meant he wouldn’t have to feel the scrutiny of Joel’s elder brother. Liro had never approved of Gib or his relationship with Joel.

“Does the King’s bastard son know how to wait his turn?” Liro’s voice dripped venom. “You have been given so many privileges already I fear you may never know your place.”

Hasain’s voice was as cold as ice. “The manner of my birth holds no bearing on the man I choose to be. You would do well to heed this same lesson.”

Liro chuckled, a dry sound entirely void of mirth. “Your head has been filled with the fanciful misgivings of your sire, I see. All the better you will never rule.”

Diddy gasped, and Gib whirled around on his heel. He’d wanted to stay out of this but couldn’t just stand by and allow—

Hasain narrowed his eyes into dangerous slits. “My brother will be your king one day, and then you will have to bow to him. I assure you my father has taught Prince Deegan as well as he taught me. Perhaps it is
your
education that is lacking.”

Liro’s cruel mouth opened to strike again, but a sudden call caused the lord to glance beyond the gathered understudies. Gib turned as well, a familiar voice catching his ears. His spirit jumped.
Could it be?

Across the hall, Koal, Marc, and King Rishi gazed in the same direction. The seneschal’s face broke into a smile, and he held his hand up, waving over the crowd. Gib leaned as far from the stairs as he could without compromising his balance. There, beyond the doorway, he could make out two figures as they made their way through the corridor. One was Ambassador Cenric Leal, Arden’s most accomplished envoy. The other was his current understudy, Joel Adelwijn.

Joel glanced over his shoulder. The light from the portal fizzled behind him as the rip between spaces collapsed on itself. For a moment, he could still see the dark forms of the Shantarian priests powering the opposite side of the rift, but then the passageway connecting the two realms dissipated completely as the priests released their grip on the magic and allowed the portal to fade into nothingness.

A moment before, he’d been standing in a crowded, humid palace in Shantar; Joel now found himself inside a familiar courtyard—the royal gardens of Silver City. It seemed impossible, but here he was. Frost-bitten vines crawled along beautiful marbled columns lining the garden, and the scent of leather and hay hung on the light breeze blowing from the stables. He breathed a deep sigh. He was home.

Joel turned toward his mentor and friend, Ambassador Cenric Leal. “Well, here we are at last. We’re home.”

Smoothing down a wrinkle in his embroidered jerkin, the envoy issued a chuckle. “And we made the journey intact.”

“You were worried we wouldn’t?”

Cenric smiled wryly, his hazel eyes twinkling. He brushed a strand of short, peppered brown hair away from his face and retorted, “Considering they had two mage
trainees
assisting with the portal, yes, I’ll admit I was slightly concerned for our welfare. Trainees have no business with portal working. One mishap or loss of control and we could have died—”

“I worked with Devi and Mahinder often enough. Both of them are extremely gifted, especially considering their young age.”

“Nonetheless, they are trainees.”

“Shall I remind you that
I’m
technically still a trainee? I seem to recall you willingly putting your life in
my
hands a time or two these past six moonturns.”

Cenric raised an eyebrow. “Not all trainees are as exceptionably skilled as you.” He reached back, giving Joel a firm pat on the shoulder. “Besides, I hardly consider you a trainee anymore. In fact, as soon as you get your internship paperwork signed, you won’t be.”

“About time,” Joel remarked, stark blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Four years of schooling and an apprenticeship with
you
was nearly too much to bear.”

The ambassador scoffed. “The feeling’s mutual, don’t worry.”

A quartet of white-robed mages swept up to greet them. Portal guardians, they were assigned to hold vigil in the courtyard to ensure no malicious attempts to utilize the rift were carried through. Night and day, they wove protective wards around the portal so no enemies were able to infiltrate the heart of Silver City. It was an important job, being a portal guardian—one Joel had considered taking himself once he graduated. That was before his internship. Shantar had left him longing to do more.

The lead portal guardian inclined his head in greeting. “Good day, Ambassador Leal. I hope you fared well on your travels.”

“Thank you,” Cenric replied, smiling. “We go now to report to the King.”

The mages bowed and went on their way.

Cenric looked over his shoulder at Joel. “We’ll brief King Rishi and Seneschal Koal—and then I can finally be rid of you.”

They shared a laugh. Still grinning, Joel turned toward the cobbled path which led to the palace. Light trickled through white clouds above, casting rays of gold across the stonework and illuminating his way. Judging by the low angle of the sun, the day was close to spent. Soon the moon would peek over the eastern horizon, and quick to follow, a cloak of darkness would wrap Arden in a veil of shadow and cold.

Joel fell in behind Cenric, eager to leave the courtyard behind in favor of the warmth the palace was sure to provide. “I only just grew accustomed to the humidity in Shantar,” he joked. “And now I’ll be ridiculed by my family if I complain the air feels cold here in Arden.”

“Aye. It doesn’t take long for the blood to thin in the south.” Cenric rubbed his own shoulders as he walked. “But you’ll readjust quickly enough.”

“I hope so. I feel as though I’ve been gone half my life, not half a year.”

Six moonturns was a long time to be gone, and while Joel had enjoyed his internship, a sense of relief flooded him to once again behold the familiar landscape of Arden.

Shantar, a country nestled between the arid wastelands of Shiraz and the powdery sands of Gyptia, was a place like no other. The city of Raja played home to lush foliage and exotic creatures Joel had never before witnessed. Giant red cats with black stripes and sentient, lizard-like Otherfolk called naga prowled the jungle just beyond the city gates. Birds of every color and size perched on rooftops and branches, their songs echoing across the city. They’d long since lost their shy nature—indeed it was possible to put a bit of seed in one’s hand and watch the birds eat from it without fear.
I wish I could have shown them to everyone here at home
.

A twinge of anxiety caused Joel’s stomach to roll. Six moonturns was a long time to be away from his loved ones, too—his father and mother, Koal and Mrifa Adelwijn, sisters Heidi and Carmen, brother Liro, and most especially, Gibben Nemesio. Joel swallowed hard.

Gods, I’ve missed him. I’ve missed our playful banter and philosophical pillow talks. No one knows me as well as Gib. I can tell him anything and know he won’t judge me
. Joel smiled as he reminisced about times spent with Gib, the young man who’d come to Silver City three years prior—the boy who’d managed to, in his first year, not only save the King of Arden, but also save Joel from the isolation he’d created for himself.
If it wasn’t for Gib, I’d never have been able to pull myself from the darkness
.

When he’d first been offered the internship, Joel had hesitated to accept. His relationship with Gib had been flourishing, but their strength came from facing opposition
together
. They’d confronted the scandal and, at times, ugly rumors, created by the highborns of Silver City as partners. Any respect gained had been hard earned, yet
still
Joel heard the hushed whispers and saw the sideways glances among the courtiers. The greatest comfort had been knowing he wasn’t alone—and looking back now, Joel wasn’t sure he would have been able to get through it without Gib.

When Joel made the decision to go to Shantar, his companion took the news as well as could be expected. Stoic as always, Gib had nodded and wished Joel well, promising the distance would only strengthen their bond. Surely Gib meant it at the time, but Joel couldn’t help but fret about it after all these moonturns apart. Change—good or bad—was inevitable.
How much has changed since I last was home? Have Gib’s feelings remained the same? Have mine?

He pushed the thoughts aside, choosing instead to take in the splendid scenery the royal palace offered. The grand building was barren at this time, save for scores of royal guardsmen patrolling the corridors. Clad in polished armor and equipped with longswords sheathed in gilded leather, the sentinels watched Cenric and Joel in silence as the pair moved through the stucco-covered halls, still as statues but only a strike away from ending the life of anyone foolish enough to threaten the royal family.

Every so often, a servant or groomsman would pass by. Each bowed cordially to the pair before continuing on their way, and Joel found himself frowning. The rules of etiquette in the Shantarian courts were so less rigid than those in Arden. He’d nearly forgotten the mannerisms to which he was expected to adhere now that he was home.

Lost in contemplations concerning his recent travels, Joel followed wordlessly behind his mentor until Cenric stopped to inquire of a royal guardsman as to the whereabouts of Seneschal Koal. The sentinel raised a hand and pointed down the hall leading to the council chamber. “The High Council has been in session all afternoon, Ambassador. They’re due for recess at any time.”

Cenric thanked the man and started down the corridor. With growing apprehension, Joel followed on his mentor’s heels. If Koal was at the meeting, it was probable Gib would also be in attendance. What would it feel like to lay eyes upon him after so many moonturns apart? Would Gib be as excited to see Joel as the mage was to see Gib?

The sound of a door flying open drew Joel’s attention to the end of the long hallway. He looked up, heart racing in his chest, as men began to pour from within the arched frame leading to the council chamber. It appeared that he and Cenric had arrived just in time. Peering down the hall, Joel hoped to catch a glimpse of familiar faces within the crowd.

Unfortunately, it was the face of Joel’s uncle, High Councilor Neetra Adelwijn, which first came into view. With his lips pulled back in a scowl and dark eyes glinting, Neetra conversed with another councilor, snide voice traveling down the corridor, and despite knowing it would be considered impolite not to greet him, Joel stepped back and kept his head lowered so he’d go unnoticed by the High Councilor.

Joel didn’t dare look up again until his uncle had already stormed past.
Good. It appears Neetra didn’t notice me—or didn’t care to stop and say hello
. Breathing a sigh of relief, a smile crossed his lips when he next looked down the hall. There, by the open door, his father stood between King Rishi and Marc Arrio.

“Father!” Joel called, mage robe billowing around his body as he swept toward the men.

Koal Adelwijn must have heard him, for the seneschal’s head shot up. His blue orbs darted across the crowded hall before settling on Joel, eyes lighting up at the sight of his son.

Small creases formed around the corners of Koal’s mouth as he smiled and raised a hand in greeting. As Joel drew nearer, he hesitated.
Should I—will it be all right to hug him here in front of everyone?

He wasn’t left fretting for long as Koal took the step forward to put his arms around his son. “Welcome home. Do you feel old yet?”

“Older perhaps, but none the wiser.” Joel laughed and took the briefest moment to enjoy his father’s affection.

As the embrace came to an end, Joel noticed Cenric bowing and quickly followed suit.
You imbecile. Way to be respectful
. Joel wasn’t sure how he’d managed to forget the King was standing right there.

King Rishi flicked a wrist, motioning for the pair to stand. With a smirk, he turned to Koal. “Fantastic. Your
good
son has returned.”

Aodan Galloway, the King’s personal bodyguard, snorted from behind the King, and even Koal’s mouth twitched as though he wanted to laugh.

A chuckle tickled the back of Joel’s throat, but he knew it would be best to keep quiet. Straightening his back, he rose to his full height just in time to see Koal tense.

“Brother.”

Joel stiffened when Liro’s cold voice cut through the room like brittle ice. The older Adelwijn brother stood at the base of the gallery staircase but made no move to come closer. As always, his blue eyes were hard and critical. Joel’s heart pained as he recalled a time when Liro hadn’t looked upon his brother with such condemnation. They’d been friends once.

“Hello, Liro,” Joel whispered in as civil a tone as he could muster. “I’m glad to see you’re well.”

“Likewise.” The words held not a trace of warmth.

“We shall have to catch up sometime soon,” Joel risked, hoping
maybe
Liro had had a change of heart while Joel had been away.

Liro locked his jaw. “I have an appointment at the Healer’s Pavilion. I must take my leave.” He gave their father a curt nod and reserved a bow for King Rishi. “Father, Highness.” Turning on his heels, Liro departed without another word.

When did our relationship become so broken?
Joel swallowed his despair and turned toward Marc Arrio next, who gave Joel a hearty clasp on his shoulder. Dean of Academy and longtime friend of the Adelwijn family, Marc had been one of the first people to accept Joel when the mage trainee, then fourteen, admitted to the rest of the world his preference of liking men. Even when the majority of the court turned their backs on Joel, Marc remained a loyal and steadfast ally. He’d even been the one to unwittingly bring Gib and Joel together when they’d been assigned as roommates—an act Joel felt he would never be able to repay.

“Welcome home!” Marc greeted Joel with a warm tone, perhaps an attempt to cover the chill left in Liro’s wake. “You’ve been missed.”

Joel flicked a modest smile. “Thank you. It’s good to be back. Congratulations, by the way. While in Shantar, I received word that you and Lady Beatrice are expecting a child.”

The corner of Marc’s mouth quirked upward. “Who told you?”

Joel pointedly made an effort not to glance in his father’s direction, earning barked laughter from the dean.

“It was your father, wasn’t it?”

“Perhaps,” Joel admitted, hiding a blush behind a strand of dark hair that had fallen into his face. “He may have mentioned it in a letter.”

“He’s horrible at keeping secrets.”

Koal groaned and muttered under his breath. “Secret? It wasn’t like you hadn’t already told all of Silver.”

“Hey,” Marc joked. “It’s worth boasting when a man of
my
age is still able to perform well enough to make a baby.”