Family of Lies: Sebastian

Published by

D
REAMSPINNER
P
RESS

5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886  USA

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Family of Lies: Sebastian

© 2015 Sam Argent.

Cover Art

© 2015 Anne Cain.

[email protected]

Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/.

ISBN: 978-1-63216-680-7

Digital ISBN: 978-1-63216-681-4

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014920689

First Edition March 2015

Printed in the United States of America

This paper meets the requirements of

ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper).

“D
O
YOU
want to play?”

Sebastian looked at the wooden sword and the fool crown prince holding it. “You saw me sitting here with a book and decided that meant I want to play with you idiots?”

“Yes,” Prince Turren said with the confidence of a boy who needed more whoopings.

“Sebastian, stop acting like a shit and pretend to be a child for five minutes!” his good-for-nothing brother, Demetrius, shouted. Funny how he didn’t have time to watch them until the king paid a visit.

Sebastian glanced at his two other brothers grinning with their own wooden swords and Father’s old cloaks tied around their necks. “I’ll pass.” He opened his book again and buried his face into tales about real heroes.

The prince snatched the book and held it out of reach. “I order you to join us and take off your cloak. Then I’ll give it back to you.”

Sebastian hopped off his stool. “So our next king is a robber. Sorry, but I don’t take the word of thieves. Hand it over.”

Turren poked Sebastian in the chest with his wooden sword. “Show respect, knave. I will sit on the throne one day.”

Sebastian sighed. “It didn’t take you long to bring your father into this.”

“The king, to you.” Turren moved the end of his sword to the tip of Sebastian’s hood. “I will forgive your impudence if you lower it. Wearing it in my presence is offensive.”

“Offensive, huh?” Sebastian grabbed the wooden blade and shoved as hard as he could, hitting the prince with the sword butt. He leaped for the book, but even with a bleeding nose, Turren kept it out of reach.

“If you want the damn book, then here!” The book sailed through the air and into the fireplace. Unlit logs burst into blue flames, incinerating the book with unnatural speed.

“Who said you brats can use magic?” Demetrius shouted.

No.
Sebastian took a step toward the fireplace, but it was no use. It was gone. As if he were five again, Sebastian heard his grandparents taking turns reading him each poem before bed. The exaggerated voices they used for each story and the grand gestures they made during each battle.
Gone. And all because of a selfish, spoiled, rich prince who couldn’t take no for an answer.

A tentative hand touched Sebastian’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I lost my temper and—”

Sebastian tackled him to the floor. “I don’t care, you bastard!” He slammed his fists onto the prince’s still-bleeding nose and beat the royal’s chest when the bastard covered his face.

Demetrius leapt to his feet, looked at his enraged brother and then at the stairs leading to the second floor. “To hell with this. I’m not sticking around to be yelled at. Someone stop him if the prince falls unconscious.” He rolled his eyes at his younger brothers and ran up the stairs.

“Sebastian!” his sister called out, but Sebastian didn’t stop. Arms lifted Sebastian into the air, but he still swung his fists as tears blinded him.

“Easy now, boy,” a stern voice said near Sebastian’s ear.

“Captain, I swear Sebastian never does anything like this.” Ophelia cradled Sebastian’s face under the hood. She repeated Sebastian’s name until his arms stopped moving.

“It was mine,” Sebastian whispered.

Ophelia’s sightless gaze went to the fireplace. “I know.”

The prince sat up with blood and snot running down his face. “Pembrost, it was my fault. Please don’t punish him.”

“That isn’t up to me, Your Highness. What started this row?”

Before the prince could answer, the door leading to the sitting room opened, and Lord Orwell stepped out, laughing, with the king by his side.

Sebastian shoved Captain Pembrost aside and bolted out of the house.

L
ORD
O
RWELL
stirred the ashes with a poker. “All kinds of useless books in this house, and you burned that one. Not any of these cheap mysteries”—he waved the poker at his bookshelf—“or romances and histories. You burned the most expensive one in the entire fucking lot. And now my boy is Gods know where since he treasured the damned thing more than breathing.”

You’re only cursing at me because my father left.
Turren glanced at Captain Pembrost, who had healed his nose and bruises because he thought the prince shouldn’t look as disgraceful as he behaved. “Maybe he’ll return when he’s hungry.”

Lord Orwell snorted. “That stubborn brat won’t show up for at least a day.” He shook his head. “All that begging me not to sell the damn thing and it ended up destroyed. I expect ample payment because I will need good wine to drown out that boy’s whining.”

“The king pays his debts,” the captain said. “And you will pay yours by helping to search if Sebastian doesn’t turn up by morning,” he told Turren.

“Speaking of whiny sons, where is Demetrius?” Lord Orwell asked.

Ophelia pointed at the ceiling. “I came downstairs when I heard him climb out the window.”

“Should we search for him too if he doesn’t return?” Captain Pembrost asked.

“Don’t waste the manpower.” Lord Orwell threw his poker on the floor. “He has perfected running away and is probably finding passage on a ship by now. At least Sebastian stays on our land.”

“A great deal of the fault lies with our prince, but the way you give your children leeway, I do wonder if their behavior is rubbing off on him.”

Lord Orwell crossed his arms. “My spawn aren’t perfect, but they aren’t shameful enough to burn knowledge. It’s regretful our prince has none of the king’s intelligence or the queen’s honor.”

Turren lowered his head and closed his eyes.
Mother will be disappointed in me when she learns what I’ve done.

“That’s enough, my lord. Prince Turren will make this right, I swear it.”

“The prince will prove his sincerity in the morning,” Lord Orwell promised.

A
S
PREDICTED
,
Sebastian didn’t appear by morning, and Turren hoped no misfortune had befallen the boy.
If he fell into a ravine and had no one to call for help, it’s my fault.
Several riders arrived from the castle and spread maps out between themselves.

“We should have searched for him last night,” Captain Pembrost said as he adjusted his leather gloves.

“By all means, search a magical forest at night where a small boy can easily hide. We need daylight on our side.” Lord Orwell tied his coat closed. “And I don’t want to be responsible for any of your soldiers being eaten.” Sighing, he placed his hand on his stomach. “I’m ravenous with worry and have been unable to eat a full meal.”

Turren frowned. “I saw you eat three helpings of eggs this morning.”

“My son’s disappearance has clearly addled you, because I only had two. Perhaps the boy should stay home with my daughter.”

“I don’t need his memory, just his presence to make things right,” Captain Pembrost said.

I am standing right here.
“I’ll go with the captain because I know my duty and I am in the wrong.” Turren bowed, and the nod Lord Orwell gave him managed to be the correct height yet disdainful at the same time.

“Search around the border where my land ends, and I’ll look closer to home in case my boy comes to his senses.”

“Yes, Lord Orwell.” Captain Pembrost placed his hand on Turren’s shoulder. “Come, my prince.”

So no one could accuse him of shirking his duty, Turren was the first person to mount his horse, and he waited impatiently for the royal guards to follow.

“Our goal is to find the boy, and that won’t happen if we’re too eager and make mistakes. Please calm yourself,” Captain Pembrost advised.

“I’m plenty calm.” Turren’s horse turned in a circle, and he had to guide the animal still again. “He always does that.”

“Uh-huh.” Captain Pembrost raised his arm and pointed in the direction of Silver Forest. “Stay close and do not wander off. I mean to return with as many of you as I left with.” He moved forward and the search party followed.