Page 30 of Requiem of Silence

“But she worked hard on it.”

“Someoneworked hard on it, but not her personally. She haspeoplefor things like this, you know.”

“And all the money…”

“Jack’s rich, remember. Don’t worry about all that.”

Varten shrugged and slid down to sit on the floor. His brother joined him. They sat in silence for a while until Varten wasn’t vibrating with cold anger. Roshon studied him closely, and Varten worried that his secret was written on his face. But when his brother spoke, it wasn’t what he expected.

“So have you decided whether or not you’re coming with us? Ani has a shipment she needs to pick up in Fremia next week. We might leave as soon as Firstday.”

Varten blinked. He got the sense that Roshon truly wouldn’t mind him coming along on Ani’s ship as they sailed the seas smuggling and trading and whatever it was Ani did for a living. The idea of always being the odd man out held no appeal, but that would be true whether he stayed or left.

“What about the wedding?”

Roshon let out a groan. “That’s turning out to be a problem.Looks like it might start an international incident. Ani’s mother insists the wedding be in Raun. And Jasminda is equally adamant that it be here.”

Ani’s mother was the king of Raun, a small island nation to the west. Considering she was also responsible for the trade embargo, this could get dicey. “Do you think Jas really cares, or is this a political thing?” Varten asked.

“I don’t think Jasdoespolitical things, that’s more Jack’s domain. She said that since we’ll be at sea most of the time, the least we could do is have the wedding here with family. If it’s there, she wouldn’t be able to go—at least not while the embargo is happening.”

“Seems like they could use this as a way to come together.” Varten scratched his chin.

Roshon shrugged. “If King Pia is anywhere as stubborn as Ani—or Jasminda for that matter—then I doubt things will work out anytime soon. We may have to elope.”

“That may cause a war.”

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten you haven’t answered,” Roshon said, nudging him.

“I’m neutral, like Fremia,” he said, holding his hands up. “But no, I don’t want to be the third wheel as you start a new life.”

Roshon’s face fell. He began turning the golden cuff link at his wrist. “You’re still thinking of joining the army?”

“Seems like a good way to be useful.” Varten didn’t have any better ideas. There was always university in Fremia, which would at least allow him to see somewhere new, but he wasn’t as studious as his sister, and didn’t want to be locked away in a classroom for years. The army held some appeal, or maybe the foreign service, so he could travel. With all the recent upheavals, Jack and Jasmindaneeded folk they could trust abroad, too. Enemies, both magical and not, were all around. Someone was going to be needed to fight them off.

“I’ll figure something out, don’t worry about me.” He brought a smile to his face; it was almost easy to do.

“Hmm,” was Roshon’s response.

The door to the ballroom swung open, releasing a torrent of sound. Ani marched out and spotted the twins. Her short, blue hair was almost in her eyes. The ball gown she wore was in the traditional Raunian style, a thin, sort of wispy material that wrapped around her, leaving a swath of torso bare. Scandalous by Elsiran standards, but Ani didn’t care. She wasn’t wearing her prosthetic hand tonight, and the scar tissue at the bottom of what remained of her arm made Varten hold back a wince. She said she didn’t remember the pain, but he couldn’t help feeling at least a little responsible since she lost her hand the day his family was captured and imprisoned.

“What’s wrong? Too many spirits?” she asked.

“Are they serving spirits here?” Roshon’s brows rose.

“They should be, given how much of a snooze the party is. No offense.” She pulled a silver flask from her bosom and grinned mischievously before settling beside them.

“None taken,” Varten said. They passed the flask around, but the burning liquid did little to improve Varten’s mood. Fortunately, neither Roshon nor Ani pressed him for conversation. Melancholy swelled within him and he battled it, knowing he really should get back inside the ballroom.

Something moved in his periphery again and he whipped his head around, half-expecting to see a shadow wriggling its way out of the wall. But it was a person rushing along the intersectionbetween hallways. A familiar, shortish figure in a light blue dress running as if a wild dog was chasing her.

He leapt to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Roshon asked.

“I’ll… I’ll be right back,” he said, already jogging away.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

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