I suppose I should feel sad. Remorseful perhaps? But I don’t think I am feeling much of anything. I have never made my father proud. We never liked one another. And he has been dying for a long, long time.
Being sad about any of those facts would be akin to being sad about winter being cold or night being dark. Some things just are, and that is the nature of them.
I watch my father breathe. Healers cannot save him, not even with magic, but I suspect they are going to enable him to linger for a long while yet. Possibly another year or two. Years caught in this half state between life and death. I think it would be kinder to let him go, but that is an opinion I cannot voice.
I glance at my watch. It is time for dinner. I think I’d prefer to sit here in silence, shrouded by temporarily thwarted, yet still impending, death. But I’m here now, so I might as well get on with it.
Wearily, I get to my feet. As I slip quietly out of the door, a servant bows to me and slips in to take my place.
With heavy feet, I walk down to the dining room. My dark suit is uncomfortable and my shoes pinch. I have really fallen out of the habit of dressing smartly. To think I used to wear clothes like these all the time. I don’t know how I did it.
Another servant bows neatly, opens the dining room door for me and announces my presence. I replace my grimace with a false smile and step inside.
My mother and baby brother politely get to their feet to greet me. Mother is dressed severely in black. As if she is in mourning for her husband already.
Laurie is dressed in an uncomfortable looking navy blue suit. It doesn’t suit his lanky sixteen-year-old frame at all. His head is bowed and he is not looking at me. All I can see is his snow white hair.
We all take our seats. Laurie next to me and mother across from us. As soon as we are seated, the servants spring into action, serving the first course. A delicious looking creamy soup. I pick up my spoon and take a mouthful. Heavens, so much better than my hurried, tiny-kitchen cooking.
I’m going to try to concentrate on enjoying the good food and try to ignore everything else. Including father’s empty seat at the head of the table.
“How have you been, Laurie?” I ask.
“Lawrence,” Mother corrects sternly. “He is too old for pet names. He has begun his vessel training.”
My stomach clenches so tightly I don’t think the soup is going to go down at all.
“Which trainer did you settle on?” I ask.
Mother sniffs. “I have acquiesced to your request regarding Mr. Richards, and hired Mr. Smithson instead.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
The things I have heard about Mr. Richards should be more than enough to make any mother not want the man anywhere near her child. But my mother has never been particularly maternal.
“Do you like Mr. Smithson?” I ask Laurie.
“Montgomery!” snaps Mother. “That is a very inappropriate question for a mage to ask a young vessel-in-training.”
Her green eyes blaze at me. I stare back at her. She really isn’t going to let me talk to my brother at all, is she? She has alwaysdone her best to keep us apart. Seems she is adamant about it now. She’ll claim it is some nonsense about vessels being seen and not heard, but I know it is more than that.
I bite my tongue, drop her gaze, and eat another spoonful of soup.
Silence descends. Thick and cloying. Nothing save for the clink of cutlery against crockery escapes it.
Until my mother decides it should be broken. “When are you coming home?”
A knot forms in my stomach. “I’m not sure yet.”
She sniffs daintily. “You are about to become Duke Eastminster.”
“I am aware,” I say with a calm I do not feel.
“You also need to take your father’s place in the Covenant.”
My spoon drops into the soup bowl and clangs loudly. Beside me, Laurie flinches.
“That, I will not be doing, Mother,” I say firmly.
