“I’m sorry,” was all he said, for the second time.
Leía, now on the threshold of the property, turned to embrace her son. “Your father is a good man, but he will not tolerate disobedience and disrespect. Mind yourself. And, please, try to learn whatever lesson Taskevi has sent you here to learn. You are my son, and I want you by my side.”
“I love you, Mother.”
“I love you too. Good luck.”
Watching his mother depart with a lump in his throat, Leander steeled himself for whatever was waiting for him back in the house and closed the front door.
It wasa few hours before Flavian’s twin sons returned home together. Up until that point, Leander and Flavian had occupied the same room—Flavian working at his desk and Leander pretending to read a book containing fables and fairytales.
Once again, Leander was in the situation of meeting people he knew of, but had never met. His brothers werenot in the same boat, having apparently never been told about his very existence until earlier that very same day.
Verin and Venser Talius were a good few inches taller than Leander. Blond of hair and blue of eye, they didn’t look anything like their divine—and illegitimate—younger brother, whose amber eyes were like molten copper and whose dark brown hair fell in tousled curls which framed his face.
They were both aware of Leander’s impending arrival, because neither of them seemed surprised to find him there.
They both greeted him, one more warmly than the other, and introduced themselves. Annoyingly, the twins were identical. Leander felt sure it would take some days before he would be able to differentiate between the two.
“We didn’t expect to meet you like this,” Verin said.
“Indeed. The circumstances are certainly… unique,” Venser agreed.
“But it is an honour to finally meet you.”
“Yes, the product of an affair with a goddess… extraordinary.”
“Venser…” Flavian said, a warning in his tone.
“What? You vow never to lie with another after mother’s passing and twenty-eight years later you announce to us that we have a brother and he is coming to live with us? An immortal brother you hid the existence of for almost three decades? How did you expect us to react?”
“I expect you to respect my right to privacy.”
“Not when it impacts us all, father. You may not have lied but you withheld the truth from us.”
“How long will you be staying with us, Leander?” Verin,the older of the two, asked, trying to diffuse the growing tension. On examination, he had sharper features than his brother and was noticeably more slender when he stood next to the bulkier Venser.
“Indefinitely I suppose.”
Verin hummed his acknowledgment. Leander could tell that the Talius scion wanted to askwhyhe was here, but Verin was raised far too well to ask such a blunt question. Or maybe their father had primed them and given his own explanation for their long-lost brother suddenly appearing on their doorstep like an abandoned infant. Either way, no such question was asked by either of his brothers.
“I’ve never had the fortune to meet a god,” Venser chipped in. His expression was one of curiosity amongst the undercurrent of hostility. “Tell me, do our prayers and libations actually mean anything to you all?”
“It depends on the god,” Leander answered honestly. It was hard to explain, but he tried his best. “We gain a… form of energy, I suppose, when mortals perform an act of loyalty towards one of our domains. When someone lies, to give you an example, I can reinvigorate my power by feeding off of the divine potential that lie possessed. So, big or small, believable or not, I benefit. And I can use that energy, that conductivity, to breathe life into lies when a person prays for my reinforcement.”
“Do you choose who gets your support?” Venser asked. “Would you, for instance, allow a murderer to get away with their crime, or an adulterer to continue to deceive their spouse?”
“You mean do I assist only the bad lies? No. Lying is notinherently evil. A small child, the most innocent of all, can lie. That doesn’t make the child evil. It makes them human, with all the potential of any adult to tell an untruth for whatever intention. Sometimes the intention is a good one.”
“You speak in the present tense, boy,” Flavian entered the conversation, not looking up from the letter he was writing as he dipped his quill into the inkwell. “I suggest you dissociate yourself from your identity as the God of Lies. It will not serve you well to linger on what is now in the past. You are now a citizen of Saeren, a lord: Lord Leander Talius, my son.”
Leander knew it would be easier to step out of his own skin. All the same, he nodded. “Thank you, Father.” Mindful of his mother’s words, he didn’t want to anger his father on the very first day, at least.
“Verin, I am tasking you with Leander’s schedule. He is to be afforded the luxuries of an aristocrat and will work to earn his keep just as the rest of us do. First will be his introduction at court. The king is aware of Leander’s arrival and, much like he was when awaiting Prince Jarryn’s arrival, he is very excited to be introduced to a new courtier.”
“Yes, father. I will arrange for Leander’s first public appearance to be within the fortnight. Lucien will no doubt want to arrange an evening of it. Until then, I will educate him as to the proper protocol expected of him as an aristocrat.”
“Good.” Stopping his letter writing, Flavian stood and stacked his letters together. “See that these are sent out immediately. The cerulean room has been prepared forLeander. He is no doubt tired after his emotional day. He could do with some rest, I am sure.”
