Reckoning (The Empyrean Chronicle) (44 page)
Read Reckoning (The Empyrean Chronicle) Online
Authors: Patrick Siana
Nor, he found, could he take any pleasure in Sarad’s demise,
for when he looked back on that dark architect, he felt only pity. The evil of
the Scarlet Hand cast a shadow that darkened far more than his small doorstep,
and in a way Sarad had been as much a victim as he. The tapestry wove on around
him, and despite him, for he was but a small thread supporting a greater image.
In his heart, however, Elias feared that while they had
foiled the Hand, House Senestrati was still out there, on some distant
continent, sharpening their teeth, yet burning with an unnatural hunger. They
had waited millennia to sow their vengeance, so what was another handful of
years to them, or even the reign of a single monarch?
“Deep in thought, while there’s revelry to be had, Star of
Galacia?”
Elias turned from his musings to find Bryn had snuck up to
him, so close that he could feel the heat of her. “What’s this, then?” he asked.
“Star of Galacia is only the most recent of your many
monikers, Sir Marshal,” Bryn said with trademark sarcasm, but her words were
belied by her broad grin and sparkling eyes. “It’s on account of the magic star
you summoned to drive out the evil doers. It’s enough to make people believe in
magic again.”
“Oh.” Elias took off his hat. “It’s getting rather warm in
here.”
Bryn’s grin melted and her lips pressed into a spare, coy
smile. She looked up at him with lazy, yet smoldering eyes. “Is it? I hadn’t
noticed.”
“Sir Marshal Duana,” said Ronald, Oberon’s cousin and
attendant, who had approached unawares to the engrossed pair.
Elias clapped the young courtier on the shoulder. “Ronald, I
am glad to find you well.”
Ronald bowed his head and dropped to a knee. “Sir Marshal
Duana, I do hereby pledge myself to you and to the service of Galacia.”
Elias exchanged a perplexed glance with Bryn and said at
once, “For God’s sake, man, stand up! What in Agia are you on about?”
Ronald complied, but kept his right fist pressed to his
heart in salute. “Sir, I studied my military history well. The First Marshal has
absolute authority over the order, and as such it is your right to appoint and
vest initiate Marshals and swear them in.”
“You,” Elias said, leaving the implied,
a son of House
Oberon
, unsaid, “wish to be a Marshal? But why?” He glanced at Bryn, who offered
him only a shrug and a crooked, bemused smile.
“Because you have taught me, and a great many others, what the
true meaning of nobility is.” Ronald turned aside and Elias saw that the reedy
youth was but the first of many, as a line of courtiers, guardsman of every
rank, and even members of the household staff stretched out behind him.
Ronald bowed his head. “That and you were kind to me once,
even though you had no cause to be.” Ronald’s voice grew small. “Because of my
station no one has ever treated me with anything but fear, or derision. House
Oberon is not well-loved, even among her allies.”
Elias loosed a deep sigh, but he smiled as he shook his head
to himself. He placed both hands on Ronald’s shoulders and gave him a gentle
shake. “Very well, Marshal Initiate Ronald. You are hereby accepted into the
Marshal corps. We’ll figure out the swearing in later.”
Ronald beamed and held himself to his full height. “Thank-you,
First Marshal, sir. You won’t regret this, sir!”
“Your first order of business, Initiate,” Elias said with a
nod to the throng behind the courtier, “is to secure mine and Lady Denar’s
escape.”
“Aye, sir!” Ronald saluted before turning about with arms
outspread to contain the mass of men and women behind him.
Elias took Bryn by the hand, and led the laughing princess
on a zigzag course across the dance floor. Their mad dash deposited them by one
of many bay windows that lined the outer wall of the room. A brisk autumn
breeze swept into the room and scattered the loose tresses of auburn hair that
hung about Bryn’s face.
“What’s your plan now, sir?” said a breathless Bryn, color
high on her cheeks.
Elias leaned against the window sill and looked out on the royal
gardens. “I’ve given some thought to returning home, putting up the sword—at
least for a time.”
Bryn examined her slippered feet and when she looked back up
at him her eyes shone wet. “The queen will be disappointed to hear that.” She
smiled ruefully. “As will Initiate Ronald. But what I meant was, what is your
plan for the present? Do you intend to flee your admirers all night?”
“I’ve had about all the admiring I can take for one night.” Elias
brushed a tress of hair from Bryn’s throat, and his fingers lingered a moment
on her bare shoulder. He thought back to an indistinct dream he had before
waking from a fitful sleep that morning. Few details remained to him, but he
recalled sitting with Asa on her father’s porch back in Knoll Creek. He awoke
to discover that her engagement ring had slipped from the chain that hung around
his neck during the night.
“It’s a nice night,” Elias observed as he surveyed the sparsely
populated balcony and the spiral staircase that led to the gardens.
“I do believe you are correct, sir,” said Bryn with a mock
curtsey.
Elias held out his hand. “Come, Lady,” he said, “and walk a
while with me.”
The
End
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