Caelum hung up the handset on the brass cradle, ending the call. Then he waved at one of the armchairs situated near the windows. “Sit there.”
Soren did as directed and got comfortable. He didn’t know how long it would take for the majordomo to arrive. He didn’t even know who the majordomo was in relation to Vanya. When the majordomo eventually arrived in the Chief Minister’s office, she didn’t appear pleased to see Soren.
The woman wore a flowing if well-tailored sleeveless gown that fell to her ankles. A metal ring was hooked to her thin leather belt that cinched tight around her small waist. Numerous keys of varying sizes hung from it. A plain-cased televox was clipped to her belt as well. Her arms were bare save for the matching golden cuffs she wore, bright against her pale freckled skin.
Her blonde hair was twisted off her neck into a high knot held in place by delicate bone combs inlaid with semiprecious jewels. Around her neck hung a thin chain, the golden pendant attached to it small and pressed with the Sa’Liandel crest. She looked to be about ten years older than Soren, but he couldn’t be sure and knew better than to ask.
“So you are the warden His Imperial Highness gave favor to,” she said in flawless trade tongue with a disapproving frown. “I’m Alida, majordomo to the Imperial crown prince’s household. If I’m to add you to it, I must affirm your name.”
“I can’t be part of the House of Sa’Liandel,” Soren protested as he stood.
“I said household, not House. You will be held within the Imperial crown prince’s circle of employ at his request. It does not tie you to a House. Nothing but blood can do so. Now, your name. I will have it.”
“Soren.”
Alida nodded sharply. “It matches my records, and you’ve the look of the man we were told about.”
“I have not had him tested for spells,” Caelum said, not looking up from his work.
Soren couldn’t squash the affronted expression that slipped across his face. “I’m a warden, not a magician.”
Alida’s smile was all teeth, and her eyes were still not friendly. “It would not be the first time a rival House has attempted entry to the palace by impersonating a warden, for whom all borders are open to. Follow me.”
Soren scowled in annoyed disbelief at the thought of anyone pretending to be a warden when they weren’t. No perks came with the job, after all.
He was led out of the Chief Minister’s office and through half a dozen hallways, crossing two inner courtyards before arriving in a windowless room whose floor, walls, and ceiling were covered in black marble shot through with gold veins. Etched into the floor and the ceiling were six concentric circles, each golden line made up of repeating constellations. Standing inside it was like standing surrounded by the night sky and nothing else.
“Stand in the center,” Alida said before sweeping out.
Soren warily did as requested as someone new stepped inside, the door closing behind him. The gold veins in the marble pulsed with a light that was all magic powered by the aether, a soft glow that gave off no heat.
The newcomer was a man clad in the robes of a Star Order priest, a wand made of metal and tipped with a clarion crystal in his hand. The star priest said nothing, merely made a gesture with his wand that caused every bit of gold in the room to burn with magic.
Heat stole through the bottom of Soren’s boots, making him shift on his feet. His skin crawled with magic, aether lines snaking all around his limbs, pricking at his uniform. Whatever spell the star priest had cast didn’t go deep enough to touch what Soren had been so careful to ignore over the years.
If you do not acknowledge it, then it can never burn.
The Dawn Star’s words whispered through his thoughts. Soren ignored the part of him the star god had tried to lock away as he always did, focusing on the present instead of the past. Whatever magic the Dawn Star had left behind inside him was enough to turn aside mortal spells without anyone the wiser. The star priest lowered his wand and turned on his heels, leaving without saying a single word to Soren. Alida stepped into the open doorway a moment later and beckoned him out of the room.
“That’s it?” Soren asked as he rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the sensation of foreign magic.
“You wear no veil woven by thread magic, and you are as you say you are according to the star priest. I’ll take you to the Imperial crown prince’s rooms now,” Alida said.
Unbidden came the memory of his last stay in one of Vanya’s rooms. Even a year’s distance wasn’t enough time for him to forget what it had felt like to have Vanya’s hands on him.
Alida led him into a richly decorated wing of the palace where servants were in abundance. Despite the late spring heat of Sixth Month, the halls they walked down were cool. Whichever long-dead architect had designed the Imperial palace, they’d managed to keep air moving and letting it rise to be let out in places.
Soren found himself deposited in a receiving room that overlooked an inner courtyard. A low wall was all that separated the room from the outside, and Soren could hear the gentle bubbling sound of running water coming from the well-tended greenery beyond.
“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll inform His Imperial Highness you are here,” Alida said.
She left. Soren looked around at the extravagant receiving room, with the murals painted on the walls and the intricate mosaic floor, the exquisitely carved furniture, and took a seat on a chaise rather than the large lounging pillows on the floor. He set the satchel on the floor by his feet and the ledger with its border reports on the cushion beside him and waited.
And waited.
A servant came and brought him a pitcher of cold red wine and a tray of fresh fruit, stuffed dates, and cheese wedges. Considering all he’d had was jerky and oat bars to eat on the train ride south, Soren did his level best to decimate the food.
It was an hour later, the minutes counted off by his pocket watch, before Vanya arrived. Soren hadn’t seen any hints of mourning in the palace, either in the form of decoration or clothing, but Vanya wore mourning bands on his upper arms over the thin material of his robe’s sleeves. Soren stood, leaving the ledger on the cushion, caught by the intensity of Vanya’s gaze as the Imperial crown prince entered the receiving room.
