Chapter 008

  The three of them entered the spacious dining hall, where a feast fit for a royal court awaited them on the oak table. The place of honour in the centre was occupied by a succulent roast of young Bristleback—Aria’s hunting trophy from earlier that day—dripping with a thick sauce of mushrooms and berries that Jareth had gathered before dawn. Loaves of bread were piled around the meat, their golden crusts seeming to crackle with the very promise of touch. Beside it sat an intricately arranged salad, combining the crunch of nuts with the delicate sweetness of red fruits, but it was the dessert that drew the eye most. A pastry, generously layered with coral-berries from the garden, spread an intoxicating, sweet fragrance. At the mere sight and scent of these exquisite dishes, mouths watered involuntarily, and hunger became almost painful.

  “Ness has truly outdone herself!” Ethan rubbed his hands together with evident satisfaction, inhaling the tempting aroma. “Everything looks and smells magnificent. This roast...” his voice trailed off as he leaned over the table. “It reminds me of the feasts at the court in Relhen. Though, truth be told, the cooks there could learn a thing or two from our Ness.”

  With a fluid motion, the man pulled out a heavy wooden chair for his wife. Aria nodded to him with a gentle, if slightly weary smile, and sat. Belmond took the seat opposite his mother, feeling the soft velour beneath him, while his father, with a glint in his eye and undisguised joy on his face, took his place at the head of the table. His fingers, still bearing traces of ink from a day’s work over the owl-scripts, tightened around the silver cutlery. He served himself a solid portion of meat.

  Hunger gave way to blissful satiety. Voices hushed, replaced by the clink of cutlery against porcelain. Belmond, entirely absorbed in savouring each bite, missed the significant glances Aria and Ethan exchanged over his head. Only when the plates were empty, and he was happily sipping his favourite dried berry juice, did Aria discreetly nudge her husband under the table.

  Ethan cleared his throat, seeking his son’s attention.

  “Son...” he began in a warm, yet unnaturally serious tone, setting down his fork.

  Belmond looked up from his empty goblet. His blue eyes rested on his father’s face, catching the sudden shift in atmosphere.

  “Yes, Father?”

  “We have something to tell you.” Ethan traced a finger along the rim of his plate, choosing his words with the same analytical precision he applied to ancient artifacts. “A few weeks ago, we received a letter announcing a visit from an old comrade of ours. Unfortunately, a few days ago, further news reached us...” He paused, seeking support in Aria’s eyes. The woman gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. “His plans have changed, and he will not be able to reach us. Therefore, we have decided that tomorrow at noon, we shall set out for Karnoth. Gaelen...” Father’s voice trembled slightly, a rare occurrence for such a composed man. “He wishes to see us before he sails for Dor-Luminar. Awaiting him there is... well, a long separation from the world we know. It is a farewell we cannot ignore.”

  Belmond’s face brightened, and sparks of pure enthusiasm ignited in his gaze. Karnoth. The ancient port, the gateway to the world, a place he had read about in his father’s books and dreamed of at night. A place where ruins of past civilisations rubbed shoulders with a bustling harbour market. The prospect of an expedition electrified him to the marrow. This was his chance to finally become the explorer he dreamed of being, not just a son listening to legends in boring, safe Tyron.

  “Truly?!” He sprang from his chair, nearly knocking over his goblet. “In that case, I’ll go pack!”

  “Bel!” Aria’s voice, though not raised, cracked like a whip. He stopped mid-step. “You are staying home.”

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  Joy drained from the youth’s face, replaced by disbelief. Aria stood and walked towards him; her posture, upright and proud as always, left no room for argument.

  “But... how? Father!” Belmond turned to Ethan, clenching his fists. “I want to see Karnoth. Please, take me with you!”

  “Bel, if there were even a single free seat on the skyship The Ember, we would take you without hesitation. But all aerial voyages are booked a month in advance. A strenuous journey in the saddle awaits us,” Aria replied, placing a hand on her son’s shoulder. Her touch was gentle, but a steely resolve lurked in her green eyes.

  “I’ll ride! I’ll accompany you side by side!” he blurted out, grasping at straws. He looked at her with desperation, appealing to her soldier’s authority. “Mother, you yourself said I handle a saddle well. Have I not proven during our hunts that I can endure the hardships of riding?”

  Aria sighed heavily.

  “It is not the same... Bel. The forest where we hunt, we know like the back of our hand.” Her voice hardened, cutting off all hope. “The road to Karnoth is not the safe environs of our city. Your skills, though great, have not yet been tempered in a clash with what lurks on the trail. You are not ready to fight multiple opponents at once, nor to face an infinite number of deadly unknowns. You lack the experience for such a long journey.”

  “And when am I to gain it, if not now?” the son retorted, a note of rebellion ringing in his voice.

  “Bel...” Aria began, but she was not allowed to finish, for Ethan cut in.

  “Your mother is right. You are not yet ready for an expedition. Not yet.” Father nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. His stance, however, lacked his wife’s severity.

  “We will travel fast, without unnecessary stops,” Aria added, squeezing her son’s shoulder gently, sensing the tension in his muscles. “We must reach Karnoth as quickly as possible, Bel. You are our greatest treasure. This time, you must stay. But I promise, when we return, we shall set out on an expedition together.”

  Belmond lowered his head, staring at the wooden parquet. He felt a choking lump of bitterness rising in his throat. The same old story. Stories and training—all for nothing when it came to real action.

  “And what am I to do here without you?” he asked quietly, his voice betraying stifled resentment. “Wait?”

  Aria’s hand moved higher, brushing the dark strands of his hair in a gesture he remembered from childhood. She sighed, her features softening for a moment. She knew how much he yearned to break free from this “gilded cage,” but the mother’s instinct was stronger.

  “Uncle Darian will be with you,” she said with a faint smile, noting the consternation painting her son’s face. “He will arrive sooner than we anticipated. It is the perfect opportunity to entrust you to his care. He will draw out your true potential.”

  “Uncle Darian? He’s to babysit me?”

  “Uncle Darian will ensure you grow in strength. He will polish what you still lack,” Ethan corrected him. “He will teach you more about combat and strategy than anyone else. If you wish to be an explorer, you must know how to survive. Darian will make sure you do not waste this time.”

  The youth was silent for a moment. The prospect of murderous training with his uncle was a poor consolation prize, a shadow of the great expedition that had just slipped through his fingers once again. Yet, respect for his parents’ decision won out over rebellion. Reluctantly, he nodded.

  “I understand...” he mumbled, feeling the sting in his eyes.

  “Bel...” Aria whispered, a rare helplessness in her voice.

  She looked at her husband. Ethan shook his head almost imperceptibly, signalling her to let it be. He knew their son needed a moment of silence now.

  Belmond finished the dregs of his dried berry juice, though his favourite drink seemed to taste of ash now. He set the goblet down with a hollow thud and rose from the table, avoiding his parents’ solicitous gazes. He left the dining hall without a word, directing his steps straight to the bathhouse, wishing to wash away not just the day’s sweat, but the bitterness of rejection.

  Dropping his trousers, he felt a familiar weight in his pocket. He took out the Regulus and clenched his fingers around it; the cool of the metal brought him a strange, fleeting comfort. He placed the object carefully on the pile of fresh clothes that the caring Ness had prepared for him, and submerged himself in the hot water.

  When he emerged from the bath, having dried his skin with rough linen, he hung the pendant around his neck. He understood perfectly what lay behind his father’s request. “Take it” was in essence an order to keep the pendant secret from Aria’s piercing, almost inquisitorial gaze. It was proof of a conspiracy behind her back. Mother, with iron consistency, opposed dragging her son into adult affairs, repeating that he was still too young to face the bloody secrets and political entanglements that were the daily bread of researchers of the past. Father, however, held a starkly different view, and these silent agreements were their quiet alliance, a small act of rebellion against Aria’s overprotectiveness.

  “I’ll give it back tomorrow,” he thought, formulating a plan involving Jareth or Ness. He just had to find the right moment.

  He holed up in the gloom of his bedroom, but sleep did not come. He tossed and turned, nervously kneading the linen sheets, while his thoughts, like intrusive shadows, circled the vision of the great expedition that was to depart without him, leaving only the bitter taste of unfulfilment.