Nascha claimed he hadn’t always been crazy and she’d showed me house records from his years as patriarch attesting to that fact. Something had happened which drove Simi mad toward his middle years when he’d already fathered six children witha loving wife and named his Heir as his oldest son, Atticus. I was somehow supposed to figure out what that something had been and my only resources were the diary he’d only begun keeping after the madness had taken him and house records and accounts kept by stewards and other members of the House at the time. It was impossible. Particularly since none of the other Houses were being very forthcoming with the information I’d requested from the same time period.
The patriarch of a major House losing his mind wasn’t something the other Houses were likely to miss. They would have noticed and they would have documented it in their own records. But when I’d asked to see the old books, Lynx had greeted me with suspicion and Viper with outright hostility. Even that was preferable to the complete silence from the minor Houses. So now I found myself set with the task of discovering the truth of an event that had driven a man mad with only inventories, accounts of supplies, half-legible letters, correspondences from other family members, and the rantings of a lunatic dead for over four hundred years to aid me in my search. It was indeed headache-inducing.
“Sir?” a familiar voice asked.
I turned to find my cousin, Paxon, peeking into the room through the giant oak doors.
“You don’t have to call me sir, Pax. We’ve been over that,” I said from where I stood beside the window. “What is it?”
“It’s, um, time.”
“For what?”
“The party,” Paxon said slowly, eyes blowing wide, “for grandmother.”
I sighed, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose. The party was today, which meant grandmother’s birthday was today, and I’d spent the entirety of it holed up in this office which had used to be hers, lost in this pointless quest.
It wasn’t exactly abnormal for me to get so mired in research I forgot dates and times and events of importance. I’d nearly missed my own Oathtaking because I’d found a particularly interesting passage on the creation of the acolyte order in a religious text I’d borrowed from the priests. Now this.
“I could have your suit brought here, if that would be easier,” Paxon said quickly, always eager to be of service. Had he been that way for grandmother? Suddenly, I couldn’t remember.
“Yes,” I replied, nodding. “That would be helpful, Pax. I’ll have to do something with my hair but I don’t imagine grandmother will be too surprised to see me so disheveled. It is my natural state, of course.”
Paxon let out a laugh that was a little too loud before actually bowing and heading out the door. I stared at the space he’d been once he was gone. I couldn’t get used to the royal treatment most members of the family gave me now. Ever since grandmother had gathered us all for dinner and announced I would be her Heir, most of my cousins, and even aunts and uncles, bowed and scraped and complimented me every time I passed by. It made me uncomfortable. At least I could rely on Olympia for a little humbling every now and then. She was a pain in the ass most of the time but she treated me the same as she always had. I appreciated that more than I’d ever tell her.
As the gentle evening breeze blew in from the open window and ruffled my wayward curls, I glanced back at the book open on my desk and reached up to rub the back of my neck. I’d read that page at least eight times now. One more wouldn’t lend any more understanding than what I’d already comprehended of it. Not tonight, at least. So I crossed the room and closed the diary just as Paxon burst back in. Another of our cousins, a tiny woman named Cleo followed close behind him, suit in hand. The shiny dark hair of her straight-cut bob shifted as she stood onher tiptoes to hang the garment on the edge of the bookshelf behind my desk.
Neither of them made any move to leave as I undressed and slid my body into the dapper azure suit. They just stood by, Pax with his hands in his pockets and Cleo examining her nails, as if they couldn’t possibly leave their precious Heir undefended for the length of time it took to dress myself. I wanted to tell them to leave but they were only doing what they felt was their duty. Besides, Paxon was one of my favorite cousins, or at least he had been before I’d been proclaimed Heir. The two of us used to hack at one another with wooden practice swords in the mud outside of the courtyard during the rainy season and pretend we were heroes returned for the glory of Sanctuary. Now, we knew better, and he seemed to have claimed the role of my personal attendant. I didn’t mind. It was nice having Pax around, even if it wasn’t the same as it had been before, even if it never would be again.
"Have the Vipers arrived?" I asked less than fifteen minutes later when Cleo threw open the doors of the study so Paxon and I could exit side by side.
I adjusted my collar and walked beside my cousin through the open halls now bathed in moonlight streaming in from the glass ceilings above. Cleo disappeared somewhere down a side hall, likely keeping watch at a distance or returning to her usual post within our dear grandmother’s protection detail.
"Not yet," he replied. I detected displeasure in his tone as he continued. "They like to be fashionably late to these things, as you know. Most of Lynx is here though. Raghnall has already pulled grandmother over more than once. I heard they've made plans to meet and discuss the latest…events some time this week. He acts friendly enough and pulls that granddaughter of his around everywhere, the one you were partnered with."
Isla.
I froze, stopping in the middle of the hall as I felt the thought leave my mind and travel along that thin tether to the one my soul was tied to. I muttered a curse and ran a hand through my curls, undoing any of the progress I’d made at taming them back in the study.
"Sir?" Paxon asked with a furrowed brow as he turned back to watch me.
We're on speaking terms again now, are we?Her soft voice echoed in my mind a moment later and I cursed myself again for the foolishness.
I'd cut Isla out of my mind the moment we'd failed the Second Trial just as we were all trained to do. It was the first lesson our parents and the matriarchs or patriarchs of our Houses taught us when we were old enough to begin our training. Control your emotions, own your thoughts, and maintain possession of your own mind. The bond was a powerful thing and had been known to lure far too many First Ringers to horrible fates. Dante's own parents were a testament to that. So we'd been trained to shut everything and everyone out, to make our mind our own sacred space, and to guard our House's secrets within it. But everyone slipped up. You couldn't be bonded to someone for life and never reach out along the special connection the gods offered you.
"Sir," Paxon repeated. His eyebrows drew together as he took a step toward me.
I cleared my throat and straightened my jacket before nodding and continuing our walk down the hall.
"Fine, Paxon," I told him. "I just thought I forgot something, that's all."
Pax nodded and walked on beside me as if nothing had happened, but I noticed the way he continued to cast glances toward me from time to time.
Milooo, Isla sang in my mind and I blinked as we reached the end of the hall.
We were nevernoton speaking terms, I replied because I had to now.
So you've been avoiding me for the last several months because we're still best friends, is that it?
