Thorns of Decision (Dusk Gate Chronicles) (40 page)

 Confused as he was, though, his only real instinct was to stay next to her, to the girl who had somehow come to be the most important thing in his world. And he knew, now, that he would support her in whatever she wished to do.

More than anything, he wished the choice wasn’t
so
desperate and confusing. If only she’d grown up in this world, knowing her destiny always ... He knew that there was no use in “if only,” but he truly wished that at the very least their kingdoms were at peace in the way they should be.

He’d made a decision late last night that he hadn’t yet shared with anyone. Although he had always wished for Philotheum and Eirentheos to be at peace and joined together the way the Maker had intended, lately, the need for it to be so had intensified inside him.

The idea had been simmering in the back of his mind ever since his encounter with the Halpern family, since he had seen how much trouble they had trusting him, when he so desperately needed them to. And especially after the conversations he had had with Jacob, first at the clinic, and then three nights ago when Jacob had told him that he’d made the decision.

 Now that William knew about Quinn, knew what was really at stake, it had become more than an idea; it was something he felt he had to do.

He was going to join the Friends of Philip.

Quinn followed him to a distant corner as more musicians down on the lawn below began to play. Looking into her eyes now, he wondered if there was ever really a time he’d been angry she’d discovered the gate. He couldn’t even hold on to the anger he’d been feeling toward his parents for using him – both of them – the way they had. Because if they hadn’t done it – hadn’t sent him there, or hadn’t hidden the truth from him – there was no way this girl would be standing in front of him right now.

“Thank you,” he said to her again, putting his arms around her waist, swaying softly, not caring if his tempo matched the music.

She smiled, playing absently with the pin at his neck as her eyes met his, and he was amazed at how well he could read what was there. He saw her almost blow it off, almost make a remark that would undermine her part in this, and then he watched as she decided not to, and she nodded softly at him instead.

If he lived another hundred cycles, he would still never find the words to describe what that look did inside his heart.

He leaned down, brushing his lips softly against hers, and her arms reached up around his neck.

“All right, Will, even if it is your birthday, and even if you are officially courting her now, you still can’t monopolize Quinn all evening.”

William rolled his eyes and turned around to see Thomas grinning at them, mischief in his eyes, Linnea and both of their dates just behind.

“Are you sure about that, Thomas?” William teased. “Perhaps it’s just an adult matter you’re not ready for yet.”

Thomas only laughed. “Stick to healing, Will. I don’t know what you see in him Quinn; he can’t even pull off a joke with his baby brother.”

Quinn and Linnea both giggled as William punched Thomas lightly on the arm.

“Come on sweetheart,” Thomas said, “I need to get in at least one dance before it’s time to cut the cake.”

“There’s birthday cake in your world, too?” she asked.

“Well, in our castle, anyway. Since about eight cycles ago. We’ll probably dance the Hokey Pokey again later, too.”

William’s blushed slightly, although right now it would have been very difficult to dampen his mood. “Dance with me, Mia?” he asked, extending his hand while Thomas whisked Quinn away.

*          *          *

It should have been a perfect evening. Quinn helped him cut into the elaborate chocolate cake decorated with purple and silver roses, and William thoroughly embarrassed himself when Thomas dragged him into the center of the circle during the Hokey Pokey.

He had just handed Emma off to Joshua and finally gotten Quinn back for a slow dance when he noticed that something wasn’t right.

The crowd seemed a little smaller than it should be, and when he looked, he couldn’t see his parents anywhere. Across from the dance floor, over by the drink table, Evelyn was chatting with Howard and Rebecca, but her face didn’t look quite right – none of their faces did, actually, and Simon wasn’t anywhere, either.

Thomas and Linnea were still dancing – he’d just stolen Quinn back from Thomas, actually – but a feeling of unease settled over him.

“What is it?” Quinn asked, looking up at him. With her head on his shoulder, as it had been, she’d probably felt him tense.

“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “Just ... something.”

She looked around at the other guests now, too. “Where are your parents?” she asked.

“That’s what I was just wondering. I don’t see Simon, either – or Max.”

Quinn’s whole body stiffened in his arms. “Something’s wrong. Let’s go.”

The door to his father’s office was closed, but William could see soft, yellow light pouring out from underneath. When he his hand hesitated in the air, Quinn reached forward and knocked, hard, three times. A moment later, Simon’s face appeared through a small crack. He didn’t look right; there was a strange shadow over his features, and a deep crease between his eyebrows.

“William,” he said, “you really should be outside. Your guests ...”

“Let us in, Simon.” Quinn’s voice was firm, almost forceful, and a strange emotion rippled through William’s stomach at the sound of it.

Simon, too, looked taken aback, and he held the door wide for them to enter, and then closed it behind him.

Both of his parents were inside, and when he saw them he knew that Quinn had been right; something was
very
wrong. His mother and father sat next to each other on one of the couches, holding hands, distress plain on their pale faces. Across from them, on another couch, were Marcus Westbrook and his son, Ben.

The four of them stood as soon as they saw Quinn and William, which made him feel strange. Although he had known Marcus all his life as one of his father’s personal guards, and he’d grown up knowing Ben, he’d recently gotten to know them both much better when they’d come along on the journey to rescue Thomas.

Marcus and Ben both looked extremely upset now, and a sense of panic started flickering inside William’s chest.

“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked.

Marcus looked down at the floor before he began to answer, which made William’s panic grow, the flickers steadily becoming sharper against his ribcage.

“We’ve just received word that Dorian and James Blackwelder have been arrested.”

Quinn gasped beside him, and his own knees suddenly felt softer than they should. “What? When?”

Marcus sighed, a shadow crossing his features. “Come sit down Lady Quinn, Prince William. We’ll tell you what we know.”

William led Quinn over to a pair of upholstered chairs that made another side of the square where everyone had been sitting and talking. His two older brothers sat down across from them, and they all turned their attention back to Marcus.

He cleared his throat. “About an hour ago, we received a message, carried by Ellen’s bird.” He nodded toward the low table sitting in the middle of them, where William could see a heavy, folded paper. The wax seal embossed with the Philothean seal was broken open. “You can read it if you’d like,” Marcus said, as his gaze followed William’s, “it says that she found out this morning that Dorian and James were arrested on charges of treason, and they’re being held at the castle, awaiting trial.”

“Which they will most surely be convicted of,” Ben added.

Next to him, Quinn had gone completely white. “And what will happen to them?” she asked.

William reached over and took her hand in his, holding it tightly as Marcus answered. “They’ll be executed.”

Her hand tensed inside his, growing cold and clammy. “For rescuing Thomas.”

“Ellen’s letter says that the official charges list espionage and disobeying direct orders as examples,” Marcus said, his eyes on the floor again. “But yes. Most certainly it’s a result of their involvement in returning Thomas to us.”

“So what can we do?” Quinn asked. “How do we help them?”

Across the room, Simon’s posture changed as confusion flittered across his face. William could see Maxwell change, too, but his confusion was mixed with annoyance.

“I understand that you are concerned and upset, Quinn,” Simon said, “but it really isn’t your issue.”

Her hand broke away from William’s as it balled into a fist. He watched as she took a deep breath, though she didn’t speak right away. He wondered what was going through her head; knowing she would be torn by Simon’s statement. Torn by a decision she wasn’t ready to make yet – a decision that would ultimately distinguish whether an issue such as this one had either nothing to do with her at all, or if, as the rightful ruler of Philotheum, it would belong to her more than anyone.

His father spoke before she could, turning to look at both Simon and Maxwell. “We’d like to speak to Quinn alone for a moment. There are guests outside we’re neglecting, Simon ... Max.”

The annoyance on Max’s face shifted to outright anger, but he stood and walked toward the door. Simon turned to his father, more confused than ever. “And Will? It’s his party.”

Stephen’s eyes fell on Quinn. “That’s up to you.”

William felt, more than saw, Maxwell’s jaw drop.

“He can stay if he wishes,” she said, reaching for his hand again. She looked up at him, and he could see in her eyes that she wanted him there, but she was leaving it up to him. He squeezed her hand, knowing she would understand his reply.

The look on Maxwell’s face told him that he was going to have to answer to his brothers later, but he wasn’t leaving Quinn unless she told him to.

“We’ll go out with you,” Marcus said, as he and Ben stood. The look Marcus directed at his father, though, told William the answer to something he’d wondered about.

“Marcus and Ben know,” he said, after the door had closed behind them. “About Quinn.”

“Yes,” his father agreed. “Marcus has always known. Ben was told much more recently.”

“But before we went to Philotheum with them,” Quinn said.

Stephen looked at her, a hint of wonder in his gray eyes. “Yes, before then.”

William wondered how she knew that – wondered if there was anything else she hadn’t told him yet, and realized he wasn’t sure he was ready for the answer.

“What can we do to help the Blackwelders?” she asked.

Stephen sighed heavily, and Charlotte reached to take her hand in his. He looked – older, William thought. “I don’t know if there’s anything we can do. Relations between our two thrones are at a standstill. Hector sent a message a few days ago letting me know that if I’m not going to ‘promote peace’ between our kingdoms by allowing our families to join together, then the least I can do is actively support Tolliver’s ascension to the throne – at the end of the season.”

William saw his own horror reflected on Quinn’s face. “How long is that? Summer is almost over, right?” she asked.

“Summer
is
over,” William corrected gently. “Or Eternolis, as we actually call it. We celebrated the beginning of our harvest season – Carperos – while you were in Bristlecone.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I guess I missed that one. So which end of season is he talking about?”

“The end of Carperos – thirty moons from now,” Stephen said.