Julien freezes, all annoyance and arousal fled. Something about Audric’s eyes, the tension in his jaw, says more than his words. His knuckles are white around an unsealed scroll.
“Intrude away,” Julien says, and closes the door behind Audric.
As Audric walks across the room, all the hanging plants and potted trees seem to brighten, rustling as if in an intangible breeze as they angle towards Audric. They bask in the first prince’s presence. Sandry magic took to Audric the best, and someday he may even grow stronger than Mother.
Whisper appears in the bedroom doorway. He’s found his own trousers, and Julien’s shirt hangs nearly to his knees. Moving as silently as usual, he joins Julien and Audric.
“Your Highness,” Whisper greets Audric before perching on the sofa. On the edge of the conversation, but part of it.
“Apologies for intruding, Whisper.” A smile warms Audric’s face. He’s been getting along well with Whisper over his past few weeks at Greenhaven, which Julien is grateful for.
Mostly.
“I won’t forget that you only apologized to him, not your supposedly beloved brother.” Julien crosses his arms. “Enough stalling, Audric. What’s wrong?”
Audric tosses the scroll on the coffee table. “Bellamy’s missing.”
The bottom drops out from Julien’s stomach. All around him, the temperature seems to drop five degrees. Just his own shock, he thinks, until the furniture and trees rattle in the uncontrolled wind. The disturbance lasts only a moment before Whisper jumps from the couch and grabs him by the hand. Silently, carefully, drawing him under control.
“Explain,” Julien bites out, squeezing Whisper’s hand in gratitude.
Bellamy’s ship is already late returning to Silaise. Julien has been nervous about that, trying to tell himself it’s nothing. They probably just got a late start with that freak storm north of the Jaws last month. He responsibly restrained himself from abandoning his duties at Greenhaven to take sail to Tavoc himself for answers.
Now that answers have arrived on their own, Julien doesn’t like them at all.
Audric’s face is as drawn and harsh as Julien feels. He gestures to the scroll, which has rolled to the ground in the brief wind. “Their ship ran aground in Draskora over two weeks ago. Mother just received word that House Dire captured Captain Gregoire and the ship’s crew on suspicion of scalestone smuggling.”
“Bellamy’s beencaptured?” Julien’s heart chills further. “Why did it take so long for this news to reach us? Why did they go straight to Mother, instead of Greenhaven?”
Whisper yanks himself free of Julien’s grip and retrieves the fallen scroll. He returns to the sofa to read while Audric shakes his head.
“Gregoire managed to pass along a letter. House Dire intercepted it, of course, but it’s benign enough. Gregoire says that one crew member had already separated from the group before they were captured, and he signs off under a false name.”
Julien stares. “You mean…”
“There are more details, but yes. Reading between the lines, it seems Bellamy somehow got lost on his ownbeforethe crew was captured.”
“Fuck.” Julien laughs helplessly, because it’s that or scream. “That’s the most Bellamy thing I’ve heard. Where is he? What do we do?”
“I don’t know,” Audric says. “Mother says to stand by and await instructions. With any luck—and I hate counting on luck—House Dire hasn’t realized they have an oathguard captain in their grasp, or that Bellamy’s somewhere in the country.”
“Somewhere,” Julien repeats. “Anywhere. Fuck, Draskora’s so big, and Bell’s so…” Julien inhales and glares at his older brother. “Your Highness, I’m returning Greenhaven to you. I hereby declare and bequeath and all that official bullshit. I’m taking my oathguard to Draskora to find him.”
“Absolutely not,” Audric says sternly. “If we act rashly, we risk—”
Julien jabs his finger into Audric’s chest. “We risk far more if we delay. Bellamy is out there, he’s alone, and—”
“Julien,” Whisper says.
His quiet voice is enough to capture Julien’s attention. Julien takes a deep breath and a deliberate step back from his motionless brother. Angles his gaze towards Whisper, who has lost all the flush of pleasure. Even with his mussed hair and the too-large shirt revealing kiss marks on his narrow shoulders, he sits with perfect, professional posture.
The morning light brightens his violet eyes, the mark of his birthplace.
“I’ll go,” Whisper says.
Julien understands exactly what Whisper means; Audric is the one who says, “Explain.”
“I was already planning to visit Draskora later this year. I can blend in among the locals, and my smuggler contact can make enough introductions to get me started.” Whisper sets down the scroll. “This is well within my skill set. I can’t promise miracles. But if anyone has seen Bellamy, I’ll find him.”
