Free Web NovelChapter 38: Chapter 38: The Greenhouse
"I’ve been looking into things," Elian said.
"What things."
"Old traditions. Folklore. The kind of knowledge that doesn’t get written down in official records." He paused. "There are things in this palace that aren’t — balanced. I’ve been trying to address them."
Caelian looked at him. "What kind of things."
"Spiritual imbalances." Elian kept his voice even. "The kind that accumulate in old buildings. It’s not unusual. I have some background in this."
"Some background," Caelian repeated.
"Yes."
The fire crackled. Caelian’s expression didn’t move.
"Elian," he said.
"Yes."
"I’m not trying to devalue anything you do. Or anyone you’ve brought into this palace." He said it carefully. The specific care of a man who had thought about how to say this. "But when my brother comes to me and tells me that you are trying to evoke something dangerous — that you’re going through texts that are considered taboo in certain regions — I need to understand what is actually happening."
Elian looked at him.
Rowan, he thought. Or Isolde through Rowan. freewebnoveℓ.com
"I’m not evoking anything," Elian said. "I’m studying. There’s a difference."
"What are you studying."
"The history of spiritual traditions in this region. Their interaction with — " He stopped. Started again. "There is a reason," he said, "why everything isn’t out in the open."
Silence.
Caelian waited.
Elian looked at him and thought about everything sitting in his notes. The Varek. The noble families. The upgraded curse. The sending. The buried pot. The maid with the wrong aura. Isolde knowing things she shouldn’t.
I could tell you, he thought. I could sit here and tell you all of it.
And you would either believe me or you wouldn’t. And if you didn’t, I would lose access to everything I’ve built. And if you did, you would go looking, and it would know, and it would move.
"I’m trying to protect this household," Elian said. "That’s what I’m doing. I can’t explain all of it yet. But when I can — " He met Caelian’s eyes. "I will. I promise you that."
Caelian looked at him for a long moment.
He didn’t push.
He didn’t look satisfied either.
He looked like a man who had decided to accept an answer he didn’t fully believe because he’d decided, somewhere along the way, to trust the person giving it.
"Alright," he said.
He picked up his documents from the side table. Shuffled them. Set them down again.
"Tomorrow," he said. "I need you to come with me to the greenhouse."
Elian blinked. "The greenhouse."
"The garden greenhouse. In the afternoon." He said it with the same tone he used for scheduling. Factual. Unremarkable. "One of the duke’s daughters is visiting. Her father has expressed interest in a formal introduction."
Elian looked at him.
"The duke," he said.
"Duke Ferran. His daughter is Lyra. She’s twenty-three, well-regarded, from an established house." Caelian said it without inflection. "The council has been advocating for the meeting."
"The council," Elian said.
"Yes."
The room was quiet.
Elian looked at the fire.
He thought about the conversation a few weeks ago. Half the council wants me to take another consort. And Caelian’s answer: I haven’t said anything yet.
Apparently he’d said something now.
"You want me there," Elian said.
"You are the first consort," Caelian said. "If I am meeting someone in that capacity, you should be present. It’s protocol." A pause. "And I — " He stopped. Started again differently. "I would prefer you there."
Elian looked at him.
Caelian looked back with the violet eyes that gave nothing away and somehow always gave everything away.
"Of course," Elian said. "I’ll be there."
Caelian nodded. Picked up his documents again. The conversation apparently concluded.
Elian sat in the chair and looked at the fire.
Tomorrow, he thought. He’s meeting someone tomorrow. Someone the council picked. Someone appropriate. Someone who can give him an heir.
He was aware, very precisely, of something happening in his chest that he had been refusing to name for months.
He continued refusing to name it.
It doesn’t matter, he told himself. What matters is the Varek. What matters is the curse. What matters is keeping him alive long enough for any of the rest of this to be relevant.
He looked at the bracelet on Caelian’s wrist.
That’s what matters, he told himself firmly.
He almost believed it.
* * *
He found Sable at the shrine.
She was checking the offerings, her back to him. She didn’t turn around when he sat down on the steps behind her.
"You know," he said, "I’ve been thinking."
"Mm."
"I should just let him die."
Sable turned around.
"There’s no practical reason to keep doing this," Elian continued. "Originally it was because I had nowhere to go. But now I have you. I have the divine being. I have contacts and resources and considerably more knowledge than I arrived with." He looked at the shrine. "The original problem has solutions now."
Sable looked at him.
Then she started laughing.
Not politely. Actually laughing, the kind that came from somewhere genuine.
"Why don’t you," she said, when she’d gotten it mostly under control, "just tell him you have feelings for him."
Elian’s head whipped around so fast he nearly pulled something.
"Who has feelings for who," he said.
"You, for—"
"Nobody has feelings for anyone." He said it with complete conviction. "I just — I wanted a little more trust. That’s all. He’s meeting someone tomorrow and I wasn’t consulted and I simply feel that as his current consort I should have been—"
"So why are you angry?" Sable said.
Elian opened his mouth.
Closed it.
"I don’t know," he said.
"You don’t know," she said.
"I don’t know." He looked at the shrine. "I don’t know why I’m angry. I have no reason to be angry. It’s a political meeting. It’s protocol. It has nothing to do with me."
Sable sat down beside him on the steps.
She didn’t say anything else.
Which was, Elian thought, probably the kindest thing she could have done.
He sat with the anger he had no reason to have and looked at the shrine and said nothing for a while.
That’s what matters, he told himself again.
It worked slightly less well the second time.
* * *
He sat at the desk for a long time after Sable left.
The anger was still there. Quieter now, but still there, sitting in the corner of his chest where he kept things he hadn’t dealt with yet.
Don’t make me regret it, he’d said.
He’d meant it as a warning. A practical one — don’t give me reasons to wish I’d chosen differently.
But sitting here now, in the quiet of his office, he turned it over and found something else underneath it.
When I started being with you, that was a choice.
He’d said that too.
He looked at the desk. At the research notes, the ritual materials, the list of things still to do.
When did I start choosing, he thought. What was the moment.
He couldn’t place it. It hadn’t been a moment. It had been gradual — a decision made in increments, without him noticing, the way you didn’t notice a tide coming in until your feet were wet.
The balcony, he thought. That was when I knew I’d already chosen.
Standing in a doorway, seeing Caelian on the railing, and moving without thinking. Not because of self-preservation. Not because of strategy.
Just moving.
He stared at the desk.
This is inconvenient, he thought.
Then, because there was nothing to be done about it and the Varek wasn’t going to identify itself and the eclipse was six weeks away and Sable needed him functional:
He picked up the pen.
Back to work.
* * *
He found Caelian in the corridor before dinner.
Neither of them had planned it. Just two people walking in the same direction at the same time.
They walked in silence for a moment.
"The council," Caelian said. "They want a formal response about Lady Lyra by the end of the week."
"What will you tell them," Elian said.
"No."
Elian looked at him.
"I’ve been saying no," Caelian said. "I’ll keep saying no." He paused. "Is that a problem for you?"
"No," Elian said.
"Good."
They reached the dining room. Stopped outside.
Caelian looked at him.
"You said something to Lyra," he said. "In the corridor. After the greenhouse. I heard secondhand."
"What did you hear," Elian said carefully.
"That you told her to get lost." A pause. "More or less."
Elian said nothing.
"Good," Caelian said.
He went inside.
Elian stood in the corridor for a moment.
Good, Caelian had said.
Not reprimand. Not apology on Lyra’s behalf. Just — good.
Elian went inside.
He ate dinner.
He thought about I just want to save a guy, is that a bad thing and Sable’s face when he’d said it and the way she hadn’t pushed.
He thought about when I started being with you, that was a choice.
He thought about Sable asking is real and him not disagreeing.
He picked up his fork.
This is getting complicated, he thought.
He ate his dinner.
