“Hey,” I said as I approached. Callum glanced up at me and smiled.
“Hey yourself.”
I nodded at the agents who were hovering within earshot; they shuffled off to stand in the shadows and give us our privacy.
I joined Callum on his bench. “What are you drawing?” I asked, leaning over to take a look. “Oh,” I said in surprise. “It’s a window?”
To be fair, it wasn’t just any window. The drawing was a simple black-and-white charcoal sketch, but it was obvious from the elaborate design that the original was stained glass. Callum had done all sorts of intricate shading to register the subtle differences in color.
He pointed ahead with the tip of his pencil. “It’s that window.”
We were seated about ten feet away from one of the Castle’s interior brick walls and, indeed, the window Callum was putting on paper was directly opposite us. At first, I thought it was abstract, just a hundred or so different colored pieces in various shapes and sizes, but as I stared at it a more deliberate picture emerged.
“It’s the Seal of the Commonwealth,” I told him. I recognized it from the marble floor of the Castle’s grand entrance, in which a large bronze replica of the Seal was embedded. It showed an eagle, legs and wings outstretched, holding a rowan leaf in one talon and a bundle of arrows in the other. The shield over the great bird’s torso depicted a gold crown against an azure blue backing, crested by a golden sun with twenty-one rays. The sun itself was surrounded by an undulating pale green ribbon—I assumed it represented the aurora for which the planet was named. A rattlesnake wound its way around the seal’s edge, making it a perfect circle. The eagle clutched a scroll in its mouth upon which the motto of the Commonwealth was inscribed: Sic tyranno liberi sumus.
Thus we are free from the tyrant.
“Yup,” Callum said. “I’m not doing it much justice like this, but in black and white it’s easier to see the design.” He handed me the sketchbook. He wasn’t wrong. Though the stained glass was beautiful, the Seal popped so much better without the distraction of color and the glare of the setting sun. Still, it wasn’t quite right without those things. The starkness of the charcoal rendering gave the image a sinister quality, which was perhaps what Callum, until very recently an enemy of the Commonwealth, had intended.
“You’re a really good artist,” I told him. “Where did you learn to draw like that?”
“You can learn to do anything well with a lot of free time. I might not have any friends, but I do have a bunch of useless talents.”
“They’re not useless,” I argued. “They’re impressive.”
“Not really.” He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “Do you want to know why I’m sketching this window?”
“Because it’s beautiful?”
“No. It’s because windows are all I draw.” He looked away, embarrassed by the admission, though I couldn’t quite see why. “Windows, and doors. See?” He flipped through the notebook, showing page after page of different kinds of windows and doors. Some of them were from the Castle, sketches he’d made in the short time since his arrival, and then further back, to renderings of portals and entryways I’d never seen before. They were intricate and flawless, masterfully shaded to reflect a certain time of day or amount of lighting in the room. I was enamored of his gift, even if his chosen subject was unorthodox.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I just like the way they look.” His hand rested on the page, and I moved it to see what he was trying to hide. The drawing was very plain, just a steel doorframe. The strangest thing about it was that the space outside the frame was shaded, but the inside of the frame was blank, the cream color of the paper. The door was emitting a faint glow.
“Where did you see this one?”
He shrugged. “Nowhere. At least, I don’t think so. Sometimes I just make them up.”
“What is it, then?” Something about the door bothered me. It gave me the same creepy feeling as the dark, colorless Seal, like it was something I should be afraid of.
“I have no idea,” he said. “I try not to question it.”
“Well, I’m still impressed.” I smiled. “Even if you do only draw windows.”
“And doors—don’t forget doors.”
The crunch of gravel beneath a delicate stiletto heel attracted our attention. Gloria was approaching.
“The concert,” Callum muttered, staring at the ground. I was beginning to suspect he didn’t like crowds. This didn’t surprise me much; he’d been raised in near-solitude, always shielded from the noise and activity of the common people. Public places were bound to make him uncomfortable.
“Your Highnesses, I’m so sorry, but I have to interrupt. Juliana, you need to get ready for the concert, and your valet is waiting for you upstairs, Prince Callum.” Gloria eyed us both sternly, as if she was a teacher and we were pupils who had forgotten our homework. “I must insist that you head back inside.”
“We’re right behind you,” I told her. As I rose from the bench, Callum ripped the sketch of the mysterious doorway out of his notebook.
“Here,” he said, thrusting it into my hand. “That’s for you.”
“Oh, Callum, I—” It would have been rude to refuse it, but all the same, I didn’t want it. The longer I looked at it, the more unnerving it was.
“I was thinking of you when I drew it,” he confessed. “I was thinking about leaving home, and meeting you, and our future, and I … It’s an allegory. Don’t you see? A doorway into the unknown.”
Well, that explains it, I thought. Of course I found the drawing unsettling—that door, with its unseen destination, was exactly what I saw when I pictured my own future.
I smiled down at him, knowing what he needed to hear. “I’m looking forward to finding out what’s behind that door.”
“Me too,” he said, with a sincerity that broke my heart. “Me too.”
THOMAS IN THE RAMBLES
“This whole thing is a goddamn security nightmare,” Agent Bedford griped, coming up to join Thomas on the stage, behind the backdrop. “I hate open-air events.” He wiped his brow with a handkerchief. “What’s up with you, Mayhew? What’re you looking at?”
“Just confirming a position on the Sparrow,” he said. He could see Sasha on the enormous North Terrace, surrounded by the guests who’d come for the concert, with Callum at her side. He watched the Farnham prince put a hand on her shoulder and whisper in her ear. She nodded and turned to smile at Callum, her lips coming close to brushing against his cheek. Thomas couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. She wore an elaborate headpiece of delicate chains studded with silver thorns that wound their way over the crown of her head, into her plaited hair, and around her neck. It reminded him of her captivity, but she still looked resplendent in it. Sasha and Callum had made their first public appearance together on the Grand Balcony an hour earlier, to the wild cheers of thousands of onlookers and well-wishers. Not everyone in the UCC was enamored of the royal family, but there were plenty who still believed in the power and dignity of the monarchy, and they were overjoyed to see the beautiful couple. And they did look perfect together; even Thomas couldn’t deny that.
Thomas closed his eyes and tried to dispel the pangs of guilt and longing that sprung up in him every time he saw Sasha, but he was only moderately successful. You’re a KES agent, he scolded himself. Act like it. All this emotional turmoil was unbecoming of his position, but he couldn’t quite banish it. He wasn’t just a name and rank; he was a person, too, and it was no longer possible for him to behave like he wasn’t.