Page 13 of Aubade Rising
“I did. Your note was convincing.” I thumb the creased envelope in my coat pocket. I didn’t expect him to reach out, to extend an olive branch after all these years and my nerves calm at the sight of his warm smile. He leads me into our old family home. Embers from the fireplace cast a cosy glow and my fingers sting as the blood pumps back through them. Very little has changed, and a lump in my throat forms when I see he’s laid the table and assigned me the same spot that I had as a child.
“I meant every word. I’ve missed you.”
I avoid his eyes, taking in the meticulous collection of clean pots and pans hanging above the stove, the leaves of paper and charcoal technical drawings neatly piled on the desk, looking anywhere but at him.
“You never wrote before.” I face my older brother, voice cracking. There was a time, when I first moved away that even thinking his name made my heart ache as badly as the memory of my parents. Alone in Athnavar, scorned by the other academics, I wished he had written.
“Neither did you.” His mouth twitches wryly as he leans against the countertop, crossing his arms and I remember that he’s only a couple of years my senior. Not much more than a child when our parents died either.
I guess we are both too proud for our own good. “What changed?”
“I heard you were back in the city. And the attacks… Well, life is fragile. I don’t want to let grieving words from a decade ago keep us apart.” He turns away, busying himself with tidying the spotless countertop.
My hand drifts across the cutlery laid at my spot on the table. “I’m glad.”
He turns back, grey eyes damp and envelops me in a warm hug. We cling tightly to one another and a piece of my heart unfreezes for the first time in ten years. I need my older brother.
“Let’s drink.” Cedar pulls a bottle from a cupboard and we raise a glass to each other.
Chapter 12
The night air is calm as I leave Cedar’s home. The wine sits heavy in my stomach, causing the streets to sway. Wine is a rarity, I’ve never had money for anything frivolous. But the headache tomorrow will be worth tonight’s celebration.
“I got my brother back!” I announce to the litter dancing along the street with me. A thread of connection stitches itself between me and this city I’ve thought of with dread for years. It’s not too bad after all, I muse, scuffing my shoes on the dirt clasped between cracks in the cobbles. Grime coats them and I stagger around trying to scrape it off.
Recklessly, I take the most direct route to the palace quay, liquid courage sustaining me as I brave the shadows. Pentargon wasn’t a dangerous city when governed by the ruthless old king but I feel a sense of unease now and quicken my footsteps.
The moonlight vanishes briefly behind a large bird’s wing and I freeze, ears straining. It’s too early for the taverns to empty but long past the closing time of the merchants around me. I haven’t seen a soul so far and other than my thrumming heartbeat the city is too quiet.
Only a few hundred steps to the harbour gates and the city quay a short distance beyond. I resist the calming lull of alcohol and quicken my pace, eyes fixed ahead, spine rigid and alert.
A single silhouette waits at the quay. The moon flickers from behind a cloud and I recognise Captain Devath’s sharp features above the high collar of his woollen overcoat.
I’m not inebriated enough to withstand a lecture on why I shouldn’t be out in the city alone and turn from the quay, preferring to risk the dangers of the city. My foot catches on acobble and I go down hard, ego bruised.
His warm hand pulls me back up and I pray my wobbly legs don’t give away my drinking.
“Thank you.” I grit out, cheeks flooding with warmth. My cloak tangles between my legs and I fumble to right myself.
“You’re drunk,” he accuses darkly, stepping closer and my neck extends to meet his gaze.
Caught off guard at his perceptiveness, I retort, “Am not.”
“And childishly irresponsible.” His caramel eyes are stormy and unimpressed and he crosses his arms as I struggle.
“And definitely none of your business.” I try to shove him out of the way, giving myself room to breathe and I stumble. He’s close enough to catch me, his strong arms wrapping around my waist and placing me gently back on my feet. His hands linger for long enough that I can feel their warmth through my coat before he breaks away, shaking his head.
“It is my business when you’re roaming around drunk and unchaperoned.” He thrusts his hands deep into his pockets.
“Again, it’s none of your damn business. I can take care of myself!”
“I am the King’s Verax – I’m making it my business.” He stares down at me, eyes gleaming with menace. The last dregs of alcohol drain from my body.
“I was visiting my brother. Not that you deserve an explanation,” I hiss, finally sorting out my cloak and pulling myself together.
“I wasn’t asking for one. Nothing you say would justify you being out here alone.” His voice comes from the back of his throat as he closes the gap between us, ensuring we can’t be overheard.
“You don’t trust me?” I seethe, my magic spoiling for a fight at the injustice. I take a deep breath, calming the roiling mess inside. This is why I shouldn’t drink: my magic becomesunpredictable.
