Family of Lies: Sebastian (18 page)

“Love is the greatest war there is, and I’m not fool enough to come to a battle unarmed.”

“You have now referred to me as a trial and a war,” Sebastian said as he reached over and grabbed the other wrap. “Your words of courtship are not flattering.”

Turren blinked. “Are you giving me permission to utter sweet nothings to you?”

Sebastian frowned. “Honestly, your way of thinking confuses me.”

“I don’t mind as long as you don’t take it back.”

Sebastian waved him on. “I’m curious to hear this myself. Proceed with the wooing.” He shook his head.
What kind of nutter believes there are words to seduce a cloaked man?
Maybe my shadow is very enticing.

Turren cleared his throat. “There are too few ways to tell you of my love, sweet Bastian. Your voice is a bee’s rasp bringing life into my world. Your eyes are like leaves that protect rose blooms, strong and enclosing all that fall into their gaze, and I, a prince, am not immune to their power. I wish your cloak would envelope me as we tumble into a lovers’ embrace and I disappear inside of you.” Turren leaned forward and raised Sebastian’s chin. “And most enticing is your knowledge. Sharp and malleable enough to suffer no fools but tolerate those less gifted.” Turren pulled Sebastian closer, and Sebastian clutched the table to steady himself.

“You’re doing better than expected, but I don’t sound like a bee,” Sebastian murmured as Turren’s lips inched toward him. Turren stopped at the edge of Sebastian’s hood and inhaled deeply.

“But you smell as sweet as honey.”

“That’s not a good reason to want what you can’t see.”

“It is for me,” Turren leaned forward and kissed Sebastian.

All activity in the marketplace ceased. Turren pulled Sebastian over the table, and he concentrated on holding Turren so he wouldn’t fall. “For all your royal education, boundaries have been sorely ignored,” he muttered before an exploring tongue filled his mouth. The hesitation from their first kiss disappeared, and Turren pressed Sebastian against him, shifting so Sebastian had to lean on him for support.
Why does he have to be sincere about everything?
And why is stupid me giving in to him?
Ignoring his common sense and basic survival instincts, Sebastian wrapped an arm around Turren’s neck. Securing his legs on the bench, Sebastian stroked his other hand down Turren’s shirt and listened to him moan.

The grip on Sebastian’s arms loosened. Turren had chased him like a puppy from town to town, and like a puppy, he was due for obedience lessons. Sebastian slid his hand down to Turren’s belt, and Sebastian tucked his thumb under it briefly. The skin twitched, and then Turren grabbed for Sebastian’s waist. Anticipating the reaction, Sebastian moved his hips back without breaking their kiss and snatched one of Turren’s hands in a wrist hold. Turren grunted inside his mouth and Sebastian smiled.
Maybe the puppy will get more out of me if he tries begging.
Despite having his control of the kiss taken from him, Turren didn’t give up trying to pull Sebastian over the table.
This is going to make a lovely story to spread to Mother.
Sebastian heard one of the villagers shout his name, but Sebastian’s promise was already broken, so why did common sense matter anymore?

Sebastian relaxed his fingers and let himself be pulled toward Turren, but a burst of the prince’s magic slammed into his chest. The force sent Sebastian to the ground, and he watched as a blade struck the table where he had been stretched out. Turren unsheathed his sword in time to catch the attacker’s next blow. To Sebastian’s right, Mr. Jenkins shouted to move away and let the prince fight the attackers until the City Watch arrived, but then more enemies appeared.
I can’t just sit and do nothing.
He lifted his hand and called to his magic, waking all the plants underneath them that were strong enough to fight humans. When he opened his hand, nothing happened. All the magic sat inside Sebastian, but it wouldn’t release. Sebastian tried again, and there was a strange reverberation against a blue, translucent wall that briefly shimmered into existence.
That bastard put me inside a protection ward.
He stood and could only move three feet in either direction.

“You can protect your lover, princeling, but you can’t protect everyone,” said one of the attackers with a scarf covering his face. A merchant’s stand of spears and burning coals from multiple grills flew through the air, headed for all the onlookers.

Sebastian cursed at Turren for trapping him, but his anger turned to fear when Turren raised his arms, ignoring his opponents. The projectiles stopped, but Turren’s attackers used the prince’s open stance to their advantage and swung their swords at him. The first assailant’s blade caught Turren under his arm, but the weapon’s point stopped just as it breached flesh as a burning blade tore through the attacker’s neck. His head fell, blood streaming from the fatal wound, and Sebastian stared at the strange woman who had accompanied Turren earlier.

“Oh no,” he said. “It can’t be her.” The flaming sword’s magic dissipated the illusion around its wielder, and Queen Anne sank her blade into another assassin, the black hair her son had inherited streaming behind her as she killed him. The crowds cheered, and mother and son fought back to back. Sebastian covered his face with his hand and moaned. “Why is this happening to me? All I want is a normal life and to run a bookstore. Is that so much to ask for?” he asked the sky. The cheers grew louder, and Sebastian looked at the scene again. Queen Anne and Prince Turren grinned and hugged each other over the fallen assassins.

“That was far less discreet than I hoped for,” Captain Pembrost said behind Sebastian.

Sebastian pointed. “Do you mind telling His Highness to release me?”

“As you wish, Sir Orwell. Prince Turren!”

The prince turned and looked at a very angry Sebastian. “Forgive me,” Turren said as he waved his hand at Sebastian and he was given his freedom. “I couldn’t fight if you were in danger.”

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I could have been helpful, you fool?”

“But, Sebastian, everyone knows you have no magic.” Prince Turren smiled serenely, and Sebastian wanted to smash the face he had been kissing only minutes earlier.

Damn him and his mother
, Sebastian thought as he turned on his heel and made a straight path for Harold’s place. Harold was standing next to Margaret when Sebastian walked past the messenger depot.

“I should have known those two would clean that mess up before we even got there.” Harold smiled as he shook his head.

Sebastian glared at him. “You could have warned me she was here too.”

Margaret crossed her arms. “Don’t get upset with us. She’s too powerful to sense unless she wants to be found. It was that sword of hers we felt more than anything.”

“Now everyone is going to spread this all over the damn country, and I’m trying to avoid scrutiny.”

Harold exchanged glances with Margaret. “About that.” He reached into his pocket and took out a mirror. “Your father just opened up a connection.”

Sebastian gritted his teeth and looked at the sky. “Damn that horny prince and damn my bastard father.”

Harold blinked. “Um, I said the connection is open, so he can hear you.”

Sebastian faced Harold. “I know.”

“T
HIS
IS
a business trip. No getting sidetracked by books, no running off to that wizard of yours, and if Prince Turren tries to roll you on top of a bench again, for Gods’ sake, tell him no,” Lord Orwell told his son while they walked through the castle halls toward the royal library.

Sebastian had no idea what the old man was up to. It made no sense to bring him when his father had yelled at him for weeks after the market incident.
He’s scheming something.
“What is the purpose of you bringing me here?”

“Most of your brothers and sisters don’t have the knowledge to help me, and Diana….” Lord Orwell shuddered. “I refuse to be locked in a room with her for days at a time.”

“I doubt she would feel any happier.”

“And while you’re not the most pleasant of the lot, you can keep your mouth shut instead of babbling all day.”

Sebastian shook his head. “Why do you have so many children when you can barely tolerate us?”

“I just paid you a compliment, so don’t spout off things you overheard James say.”

“That was not a compliment, and all of us have wondered about you and Mother.”

Lord Orwell rolled his eyes. “So that’s what you discuss when you’re locked away in one of your rooms. There’s the obvious answer of lust, but I think you’ll prefer I keep those details between myself and your mother.”

“Gods yes, please do,” Sebastian begged.

“Then there’s the philosophical answer, which quite frankly, none of you have earned yet.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m waiting for one of you to ask the right questions.”

“Like why did you bring me here after threatening to burn my books if I ever saw the prince again? You’re becoming less of a mystery, Father, and I will find out why you brought me.”

“You think you can figure out my motives?” Lord Orwell squeezed his son’s shoulder. “My boy, you give yourself too much credit.” He chuckled as he released Sebastian and walked to double doors protected by armed guards.

“I will find out that bastard’s schemes and rub it in his smug, ruddy face,” Sebastian muttered as the guards opened the doors for them inside the royal library. They were greeted by stacks of books piled high on the floor and tables. The actual shelves were bigger than most houses. “For once I won’t complain about royalty spending to excess.”

“Yes, books are one of the few possessions that you can never have enough of,” said a green-robed stranger who approached them. “I am Lord Piadas, ambassador to Anerith. I wish I could have been summoned back home under happier conditions.”

“My father told me the bare details of why we’re here,” Sebastian said.

“That was my doing.” King Harris entered the room, and his guards shut the doors behind him. “I require discretion for this assignment, and I thank you, Lord Orwell, for not discussing it with your son.”

“Children aren’t supposed to question their respected parents, so there was no inconvenience,” Lord Orwell said.

Sebastian opened his mouth to question every damn thing about Lord Orwell but spotted a light glow in his eyes. Not desiring to have his speech taken away again, Sebastian remained quiet.

King Harris waved at the book-covered tables and floor. “Something among this lot might give a clue as to why assassins are after Turren.”

Sebastian frowned. “Why would the answer be in one of those books?”

“We have reason to believe that a strong suspect went through these books before they were delivered to Larnlyon,” Lord Piadas said.

“What strong suspect?” Sebastian asked.

“That information does not concern you,” Lord Orwell said. “Our job is to search for anything that could be interpreted as a description of the prince relating to a prophecy or his magic.”

“And you think keeping me in the dark about whoever ordered his death doesn’t hinder me?” Sebastian crossed his arms. “And what do you mean find a passage describing the prince? Arrogant, flashy, good with a sword, powerful, and royal blood. That could be any magical chosen one in dozens of books, and that’s if they even state the gender.”

Lord Orwell rolled his eyes. “The reason we were summoned here is because the king assumes we’re smart enough to dismiss false leads.”

“But he does have a point,” King Harris said. “I can’t ask Sebastian to help too and tell him nothing.” He nodded to the ambassador. “Go ahead and explain the rest.”

“We also have a suspicion that passage will be about an object called the Heart of Light,” Lord Piadas said. “It is a treasure that disappeared during the war, and its existence is a secret among my people. Please do not share this information with anyone.”

“With the exception of Harold,” King Harris said.

“I should have known.” Lord Orwell sighed. “You went to him first.”

“The fact that I summoned you after Harold is a great honor, Lord Orwell,” King Harris said. “I’m wasting your time, so please get started.” He left the three men behind and the doors were secured in place.

“I’m surprised you don’t care for Prince Turren,” the ambassador said. “I found him to be a remarkable man in Anerith.”

Lord Orwell laughed. “I see why the king sent for me. You’re not very good at seeing the obvious.” He pointed to the right of the table. “Sebastian, you start there, and I’ll take the other end. You can handle the books on the floor,” he told the ambassador.

Despite his father’s attitude, Lord Piadas didn’t take any of Lord Orwell’s comments to heart, and he wasn’t nosy about Sebastian’s cloak. Sebastian assumed the king had warned him about his temperament, but most people’s curiosity beat out his need for privacy.

“Do you have a special interest in ancient languages, Sebastian? Not too many people from my own home speak ancient Anerithian,” the ambassador said.

“I learn languages based mainly upon what books I read,” Sebastian said. There was a loud sound of a throat clearing from the other end of the table. “My father also insisted I learn it.”

Lord Piadas smiled but said nothing.

Hours later the doors opened again, and Frederick entered the library with a tray of food.

“Hmmm,
bragada
tail. His Majesty can be gracious when it counts,” Lord Orwell said.

“Have you gentlemen found anything?” Frederick asked.

“Secondhand recollections that go on about an amulet that shines like the day, but no prophecies,” Sebastian said. “I admit to there being less ‘chosen one’ stories than I first thought.”

“Do either of you know when the stone was last seen?” Lord Orwell asked Frederick and the ambassador.

“Some time before King Orsen was killed,” Lord Piadas said. “We think it was smuggled out of the country by one of his wizards.”