“Stefan,” his mother said in the soft voice she used when she was angry, “Be a dear and take your seat.”
His father grumbled under his breath, but he complied.
Her hands shaking, Mother picked up a plate from the table and proceeded to heap food onto it. “Eat up before you faint again. And your father’s right, so don’t think I’m taking your side.” She paused for a moment her eyes distant, then said under her breath, “Maybe we ought to send you to the menders, but that wouldn’t cure what ails you, would it?” She finished preparing his meal then went to the opposite side of the table and took her seat.
By this time, Ancel’s head had fully cleared. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.
Mother waved him off. “No need to apologize. We’ve been meaning to have a talk with you,” She prepared a plate for herself and gestured toward Stefan with a slight tilt of her head.
His father regarded him without the irritation he’d shown earlier. “We’ve both heard the stories of all these girls you bed. We don’t approve.” Ancel opened his mouth to speak but his father overrode him. “You need to control your emotions as you’ve been taught. That’s not to say I didn’t have my day when I was a young man like yourself. But it’s not what you’re doing that bothers me as much as the why. Ever since Irmina left, it’s been as if a dark cloud has hung over you. You’ve even neglected your studies, resorting to brandishing your sword to impress the skirts. Treating women as you have will neither bring her back nor make you feel better about her or yourself. If you want to bed them, do so. But don’t do it out of spite or lead them on in hopes they will feel the pain you do.”
“What your father means to say is to respect women as you would me. If you wish to experience the many flavors of female companionship, I cannot and will not stop you even if it bothers me. But take caution with what you promise. We’ve had quite a few complaints the last few days. The worse of which has been Headspeaker Valdeen-”
“I grow weary of the man,” his father interrupted.
“As do many on the Council,” Mother said.
Ancel pushed a slab of quail into his mouth, hardly tasting it as he chewed. Knowing the Headspeaker had complained to his parents made him even more reluctant to go to Randane.
“Well, that’s part of the reason we’re allowing you to go,” his mother said.
Ancel frowned. Did I say that aloud?
“Smooth things over with the Headspeaker. In turn, we’ll talk to whichever fathers have taken issue with your relations with their daughters,” his mother said.
His father nodded. “And when you return, resume your training in earnest. Take the same emotions that confuse you now and feed them into your quest to learn. Bind them to your will. Remember, control is everything if you wish to surpass me as a Dagodin.” His features spread into a wide smile as he spoke. “Teacher Calestis stopped by today and said you could be the best student she has again if you would only apply yourself.”
Ancel held his breath, waiting for the outburst that would come if Teacher Calestis had told of the day’s earlier events. But none came.
Instead, his father said, “I learned, as you must, that a man is only as good as his honor. Life is what you make it, son, and in turn, life shapes you. It’s up to you to work that shape into something positive. Yes, you’ll make mistakes along the way. But, remember, mistakes are lessons. Positive moments are gold. Collect both with the right person and you’ll be wiser and have a treasure of happiness for the rest of your days.” He smiled at Mother and in return, she blushed.
“Thank you, Mother, Da.” Relief washed through Ancel like a cool breeze. The dirty looks he’d begun to receive from fathers and brothers of the many women he bedded had begun to weigh on him. He knew it was only his parents’ status that prevented them from doing more than mutter veiled threats.
“Now, enough of that talk,” Stefan said, still smiling. “The reason your mother did all this is because you won’t be here for your nineteenth naming day.” He poured three glasses of kinai wine and passed them around. “This is to your nineteenth, son. You’re a man in every sense of the word now. You should be enjoying this time in your life.” Stefan raised his glass. “Here’s to you, son. We’re both proud of you.”
Ancel beamed and took a long drink. Warmth flooded his body.
“Oh,” his mother exclaimed, putting her glass down. “I have a gift for you.” She fidgeted in the folds of her dress for a moment before she produced something golden. Ancel attempted to see, but she kept it hidden as she stood and crossed to him. “Wear this always,” she said, her voice almost a whisper as she positioned herself behind him. “Promise me.”
A thin chain dropped around Ancel’s neck to rest on his chest. From it hung a pendant. He took it in his hand. An exact likeness of his mother’s face, intricately wrought in silversteel down to the shining gray blue gems for her eyes, stared back at him. Ancel gawked, but the only words he could find were, “I promise.” Tears welled up in his eyes.
“Thank you for being a wonderful son,” his mother said before she squeezed his shoulder and returned to her seat.
Still dumbfounded, the small talk that followed about his day at school and the preparations for the trip washed over Ancel. Several times, he touched the charm before he glanced at his mother. She graced him with a serene smile every time.
“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Stefan said. “You will be taking Charra with you.”
Ancel’s eyes widened. In the past, his father had banned Charra from leaving the Whitewater Falls area. Now he wants me to bring him to Randane?
“Don’t ask why,” his father said before Ancel could utter a word, “Take him. Oh, and should you wish to partake in some of the entertainment Randane has to offer, please remember we Dorns have a family name to maintain. In fact, I would suggest you take a peek at The Dancing Lady. I doubt anyone would recognize you there.” His father shrugged at Mother’s stern look before they both resumed eating.
Thoughts swirled through Ancel’s mind. His father’s sword, Charra’s recent behavior, his mother’s gift, strange beasts in the Greenleaf Forest and the mountain clans’ feud were foremost. This was compounded by the upcoming meeting with the Dosteri, his trip to Randane, and his father’s command to take the daggerpaw. Calestis’ words in Discipline class came back to him.
When several separate events occur at an opportune or inopportune time, people call it coincidence. Coincidence, my students, is nothing more than the birth child of intricate planning.
Ancel lost himself in his ponderings hardly tasting the food.
CHAPTER 13
Evening had come by the time they sat at Eldanhill’s southern outskirts. The day had raced by in a whirlwind of preparations, and Ancel and his friends were allowed to skip their studies as they gathered the necessary supplies. Danvir spent most of his time at the tailor making sure he obtained quite a few outfits for their planned revelry. Both he and Mirza attempted to convince Ancel to take clothes other than the black he favored recently. He’d settled on a sky blue coat, a matching shirt, a tan cloak, and tan pants. All his other clothes were either dark gray or black.
Ancel’s horse whickered in response to Charra’s impatient coos and pawing at the ground. Charra stared off behind him, but Ancel’s attention remained on Eldanhill as he played with the charm around his neck. Far north, beyond the town, the last vestiges of sunlight swathed the Kelvore Mountains in purple and orange hues. Ancel hadn’t found the time to say goodbye to any of his other friends, but the worst part was that not having the chance didn’t bother him. Doubts crept into him about how much he would miss his home. Charra cooed once more.
“Gods, I’m glad they let us ride these beauties this time,” Danvir said, patting his white mare. The horse’s coat shone with the waning evening sunlight.