Chapter 011

  The steel fell silent at the sound of Ethan's calm, rhythmic applause. Darian lowered his heavy sword, resting its point on a stone flagstone of the courtyard, while Aria, still breathing heavily, sheathed her weapon in one fluid motion. The air around them still hummed with adrenaline, but the murderous aura gave way to a familiar, familial intimacy.

  "Must you always ruin the best fun, Ethan?" Darian tossed out, wiping his sweat-dewed brow with his forearm. His voice was slightly hoarse, but merry sparks danced in his dark green eyes. "Another moment, and I would have forced her to yield."

  "You'd sooner see winter in midsummer," Aria shot back, taking a linen towel from her husband's hands. She wiped her face and shot her brother a defiant glare. "He saved your skin, little brother. My next cut would have wiped that stupid smirk right off."

  Ethan smiled mildly, handing a second towel to his brother-in-law. "Someone has to ensure you don't kill each other and reduce the estate to ashes before breakfast," he said calmly, finishing the last sip of his herbal infusion. "Good to see you, Darian. Was the journey from the north peaceful?"

  "And you, Ethan. Yes, the flight was positively sleep-inducing for my taste. I despise skyships," Vesperon grumbled, squeezing his brother-in-law's hand with a force that could crush the bones of a lesser man. The scholar, however, bore it with an unflinching smile. Suddenly, Darian smacked his lips loudly, as if recalling something. "Ah, right! I'd have forgotten with all these greetings."

  The warrior unfastened the upper clasps of his black gambeson and slipped a hand into an inner breast pocket. A moment later, he pulled out a folded, sealed parchment. With a slight grimace, he inspected its edges, darkened by moisture.

  "Here. One of those pompous old fools from the Orsenate caught me just before I left. That bald one... what was his name... ah, Eldric Mordecai. Ordered me to deliver this directly into your hands," he muttered, holding the missive out to his brother-in-law. "Forgive me that it's a bit... damp."

  Ethan arched a brow, gingerly taking the letter by its least damp corner with two fingers, a look of distaste on his face. He fanned it for a moment to dry it out a little. He looked at the half-smudged wax seal and smiled with cold comprehension. He did not seem the least bit surprised.

  "I can guess its contents," the scholar stated, deftly tucking the missive beneath the fold of his robe, ensuring it did not soil his own clothes. "How is the mood in the capital?" Ethan prompted calmly, fixing his brother-in-law with a scrutinising gaze.

  "Ah, same as always in the capital. The old wolves are greying, while the young ones snarl at each other and seek allies," Darian replied wryly, crossing his arms over his chest. "With the one exception that the ruler's sons have stopped playing at any pretences and have openly begun gathering their own retainers. Young Prince Erven, in particular, is champing at the bit to take the helm and stops at nothing to aggressively build his influence."

  "A purely logical course of events; they are coming of age, and the Emperor is growing old," Ethan concluded with analytical coldness. He firmly believed every political decision had a specific, rarely noble motive. "Given the rising tensions, their greed does not particularly surprise me. Indeed, I recently received a rather intriguing letter on this very matter myself, and I presume this one concerns exactly the same issue," the father added, patting his chest meaningfully where he had hidden the parchment.

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  "They got to me as well, for a discreet and, in their minds, highly suggestive 'little chat'," Darian added, giving a short snort of open disdain. "They're sowing rumours everywhere that Valerian is now old, sluggish, and about to bid farewell to the crown, so one had better stand on the right side of the board. It's rubbish. I know that bloodline... The Emperor still has enough vigour in him to hold this entire Empire of Erythra in check with an iron fist for at least the next few years. For now, we shouldn't trouble our minds with it at all. They are simply making unnecessary noise."

  "Perhaps you are right," Ethan replied.

  Then Darian's gaze drifted past Ethan's shoulder. The warrior narrowed his eyes, studying the silhouette of the boy, who was still shifting from foot to foot in his thin nightclothes.

  "And what manner of morning spectre is this?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in feigned astonishment, though the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.

  Aria stepped up to her son and placed a hand on his shoulder. In her gesture lay maternal pride, but also the severity of a commander presenting her finest recruit.

  "Belmond, I trust I needn't remind you how to behave. Greet your uncle."

  "Greetings, Uncle Darian." He bowed respectfully, striving to make the gesture proud, just as his mother had taught him.

  Darian took a heavy step and stopped right in front of him. Up close, he seemed even more massive; he smelled of old leather, sweat, and heated steel. He sized the boy up from head to toe, then gave a low whistle.

  "I'll be damned," he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "The last time I looked at you, you were eight years old. You barely reached my waist, feared your own shadow, and hid behind your mother's skirt the moment I glared at you. And now look... you don't even avert your gaze."

  Belmond swallowed hard, trying to control the tremor in his voice. "Because that time, you burst into the kitchen covered in blood, throwing some beast's head onto the table," he retorted uncertainly, yet he defiantly held eye contact.

  For a fraction of a second, surprise painted Vesperon's severe face, which instantly dissolved into a booming, genuine laugh.

  "Hah! And he barks back, too!" Darian reached out a hand the size of a loaf and vigorously ruffled the boy's sleep-tousled hair. "You're right, kid. That brute would have eaten you for breakfast. But I look at you now, and I see Aria was right. Our blood. You have our raven hair, shoulders promising to be as broad as an Erythran oak... but you have your father's gaze. Those wise, piercing, blue eyes."

  Aria gave a half-smile, though a shadow of unease flitted through her eyes once more. Ethan cleared his throat softly to break the moment.

  "Since the greetings are behind us, let us go inside," the father proposed. "Ness has surely prepared the meal by now. We must eat and discuss the final details before..."

  "Before you leave," Darian finished gravely. He gave a heavy nod, then looked at Belmond again. This time, there was no jesting in his gaze, only the cold promise of a veteran. "Go pack, then. And I will take charge of the boy. When you return, he will be a true man." He winked, sending the teenager a roguish smile.

  "Brother, do not do anything foolish," Aria warned him quietly.

  "Me? Never in my life. And by the way... Ethan, did you fulfil the request in my letter?"

  "Yes, all sorted," the scholar replied. "In two days, apart from Belmond, another youth, Cassius, will be placed under your care. And when we return, the rest will arrive. You will have five pupils in total."

  "Five? That is quite a few."

  "You will not be disappointed. Their families possess enough gold to pay generously for this training," Ethan added with cold certainty.

  Belmond had no idea what this was all about. His father hadn't breathed a word of it until now. What pupils? Cassius? Was he now to receive instruction alongside total strangers? He frowned, the questions swirling in his head making him dizzy.

  "Good. I look forward to meeting them," Darian said.

  The warrior smiled at his own thoughts. The scar above his eye twisted, and something so predatory and ruthless flashed in his dark-green irises that goosebumps instantly erupted on Belmond's arms. The boy felt a sudden, irrational unease. That grimace heralded nothing good.

  "Mistress Aria! Mistress Aria! Breakfast!" a carrying voice reached them from the house.

  Ness leaned out over the threshold, waving her arm energetically toward the courtyard. "Breakfast is ready! Everything is getting cold!"

  "Let us go inside, we will discuss the rest at the table," Aria ordered briskly, resting a hand on her husband's back.

  A moment later, all four of them headed for the doors of the residence, leaving the crisp chill of the morning behind.