“Good. You must be on your best behavior this trip. Headspeaker Valdeen will be presenting the kinai to the King’s tasters this year, so you’ll be taking the horses. Social status and all that. Impressions, my son,” his father added in response to Ancel’s raised brows as he led the way through the study.
Ancel gawked. “Da, then you should-”
“Oh?” Stefan clasped his hands behind his back. “First you lie, and now you’re telling me what I must do?”
The words stung, and Ancel hung his head. He kept his attention on the bookcases lining the walls, then let his gaze rove across the long, polished table, and the soft chairs within the room. The plush carpet below their feet made for an uncomfortable silence. Finally, Ancel spoke up, “No, Da. It’s just that this trip is so important. I don’t want to ruin anything.”
His father’s voice softened. “You’ll be fine, I’m sure. Besides, I’m unable to make the journey this year. I have another meeting to attend.”
Ancel pursed his lips. “What could be more important than the King of Sendeth?”
“As much or more rides on my meeting as this year’s Soltide offerings to King Emory.”
“But, Da, without the King’s agreement the Council won’t be allowed to expand Eldanhill into a city as the Council wishes.”
Stefan placed a hand on Ancel’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Sometimes, son, one must sacrifice for the bigger picture.”
Pondering those words, Ancel was so lost in his thoughts it took a moment before he noticed his father’s sword. “Da.”
“Yes?”
“Is something wrong?”
They crossed into the large living room with its neat, cushioned benches and multicolored rugs. The aroma from the food grew stronger.
His father tilted his head slightly, his dark hair with its white streaks falling to one side. “What makes you ask?”
“Well, that for one,” Ancel replied, dropping his gaze to the sword at his father’s hip.
His father’s hand brushed against the weapon’s hilt. “And?”
“Charra’s been acting strange the last few days even before we saw those creatures in the Greenleaf.”
His father snorted. “There’s no accounting for Charra’s moods. He’s worse than a woman.” Stefan leaned his head toward the kitchen and dining room. “Don’t tell your mother I said that,” he added under his breath.
Ancel smiled. “And your sword?”
“We went to check this glen of yours and backtrack to where you said the beasts chased you. All the signs pointed to the creatures being mountain wolves or daggerpaws accompanied by hunters from the Seifer clan.”
“But Da, mountain wolves don’t have green eyes, neither do daggerpaws.”
“The eyes were the resinbuds playing tricks on you two. From the markings they left on the trees, I’m sure it was the Seifer. Looks like they’re feuding with the Nema again. Probably poisoned that secret kinai crop of yours because they figured it must be the Nema’s. You two boys were actually lucky. If you weren’t on dartans, I may now be in the Kelvore bargaining for your freedom. For now, stay away from those parts until I know this feud is over.”
Ancel nodded, but the way his father fingered his sword as he talked about the wolves wasn’t convincing.
His father continued, “As for my meeting. King Emory is sending a noble here. Some trumped up lordling who’ll meet with a Dosteri embassy to discuss the recent troubles. The King’s advisors suggested we get used to dressing the part of active Dagodin once more.” Stefan shrugged. “I assume they wish to impress the Dosteri with pomp and ceremony. As if that wasn’t enough, a Tribunal member is coming to mediate.”
Ancel faltered at the prospect of a High Ashishin’s visit. His father had said it all with as much interest as if this meeting was as common as the winter storms that blew down from the Kelvore Mountains every year. “Things have become that serious?”
“Serious?” His father’s voice rose a notch. “Not at all. The Dosteri have taken affront to the smallest occurrences of late. I assume the King would rather not have anything happen they could construe as an insult. That’s all but reassured with a High Ashishin’s presence.” Stefan paused, his thumb stroking his lip. “At any rate, this is nothing for you to concern yourself with, not at this moment anyway.” His hand dropped and began caressing his pointed beard.
Ancel’s brows drew together for a moment. His father often stroked his beard when he lied or only told part of a story. What’s he keeping from me? “Da, are you-”
“Ah, here’s your mother,” Stefan said as they entered the dining room. “Thania, love, you’ve outdone yourself.”
Ancel snapped his mouth shut as he noticed the dining table for the first time. Porcelain dishes filled with food were set out in neat lines around the marble centerpiece-a sculpture depicting Ilumni. His mother placed a plate filled with slabs of steak on the table. There were potatoes, cabbage, carrots, sweet peas, and sliced quail breast. Several bowls contained creamy sauces. Mouthwatering aromas rose from them that made Ancel want to rush to the table and dig in. Grapes, gooseberries, and sliced bananas adorned several platters next to a basket of freshly baked bread. A pitcher containing crimson colored kinai wine and another with kinai juice, its color paler than the liquor, sat next to each other.
“Mother,” Ancel exclaimed, “you did all this without the servants?”
His mother smiled. “I see my son has forgotten his mother’s ability to cook with the best.”
“I didn’t forget,” Ancel said in a half-hearted, embarrassed protest. “It’s just been so long.”
Mother looked thoughtful for a moment. “It has, hasn’t it?”
Ancel nodded. Remembering his mother’s cooking set his mouth to watering once more.
“Well, stop standing around drooling,” she said. “Go wash your hands and hurry back.”
Ancel didn’t wait to be told twice. Leaving his parents to their small talk, he hurried through the dining room and into the adjoining kitchen. He skirted the big oak table with its pots and cooking utensils, passed the large stone oven and hearth and stopped at the kitchen sink. With food on his mind, he quickly washed his hands and rushed back to the dining room. His parents stood at their customary positions at the head of the table. Ancel took his place and bowed.
“Ancel, seeing that this is all for you,” Stefan said, “Today, you’ll lead us with the prayer.”
Ancel nodded, closed his eyes, and began in the most reverent voice he could muster, “Dear Ilumni, thank you for the meal you’ve provided for us today. I pray you bless this food and this family. I thank you for allowing me to enjoy this meal with my parents this day. I beg your Battleguard keep me safe on my trip so we can enjoy many more days together. Blessed in your light, we pray.”
A sudden tightness eased up Ancel’s chest. Multiple shades of color bloomed around his parents. His head spun for a moment, and his vision blurred. The sensation was as if he spun himself in a circle repeatedly then stood outside his body watching himself fall. He grabbed at the chair.
“Ancel! Son!” His parents’ shouts sounded far away.
Ancel struggled not to topple over as his father’s hand appeared on his shoulder for support. Ancel’s body shuddered. He shook his head in an effort to clear the dizziness while his father helped him into the chair. His mother hovered over him, her hand dabbing at his forehead with a cool cloth.
“What happened?” his father asked.
Slowly, the room came back into focus around Ancel. “I–I don’t know. One moment I was praying and the next I felt dizzy and saw these colors.”
“Did you have lunch today?” Mother’s concerned voice overshadowed her stern expression as she leaned over him.
“No, no, I forgot,” Ancel answered before he could think.
“In Ilumni’s name, boy. I’ve told you time and again you need to eat properly,” Stefan scolded. “Your body must be fed as well as your mind for both to work in concert. Have you learned nothing of the Disciplines?”