Nightfall: Book Two of the Chronicles of Arden (2 page)

At Lady Mrifa’s recommendation, Tayver had landed a job as Joran Nireefa’s apprentice in Silver City’s finest tailoring guild. Tayver’s natural ability to design and construct clothing had come as a surprise to everyone, and after only two years of shadowing, Tayver was turning an eye-opening profit for the guild. Every highborn in Silver knew of Master Joran’s star protégé and the fantastical masterpieces he created.

Gib smiled wistfully.
Tayver was meant for city life. I’ve never seen him happier. Now if I can manage to get Cal and myself through Academy, I’d say I’ve done pretty well for us. Ma and Pa would be proud
.

A sigh escaped Gib’s lips as he scanned the dining hall. “Come on. Let’s get our meal. It’ll be a long time until dinner.”

The youngster nodded eagerly, and the two of them fell in line. Though not as new to the city as Gib had been on his first day, Calisto took his time to ogle over the wide assortment of foods. He chose many different things, even taking a moment to gush over the potatoes and gravy.

Gib set a hand on the back of his brother’s neck. “Let’s find a seat.”

As Calisto gazed at all the tables before them, his smile slipped away. “Where are you gonna sit? Where should I sit?”

“I’m going to sit with Tarquin. Over there.” Gib pointed toward his regular seat, a table near the farthest corner of the dining hall which Gib and his friends had long since claimed as their own. “You can come with me, but the conversation is going to be boring and I won’t be staying long. I have to report to the council room soon.”

Cal nodded as his dark eyes scanned a different table, where students closer to his own age were eating and chatting amongst themselves. “What if I sit with them? Do you think they’ll like me?”

“You know I do.”

“I don’t know any of them.”

“Not yet, but look—” Gib pointed to a boy and girl, both with onyx hair, fair features, and dark eyes. “Those two there are Inez and Inan Adelwijn. They’re Joel’s cousins. I’ve met them before, and they’ve always been friendly.” Giving Cal’s shoulder another gentle squeeze, Gib continued. “And the boy next to them, he must be your roommate, Scipio Malin-Rai.”

Cal still didn’t offer to move. “He’s Kezra’s brother? How do you know?”

“The bindi gives it away.”

“Bind–bindi?”

“The red diamond painted above his brow. All the children in the Malin-Rai family have one. So does their mother. She came from Shantar, and the bindi is one of the traditions of her native land.”

Calisto shuffled one foot across the marble floor. “Can I sit with you if none of them like me?”

“Yes, of course.” Gib laughed.

Calisto needed no more encouragement. His walk was a bit stiff as he approached the other children and spoke shyly to them. Gib couldn’t make out the words, but he watched as the young students greeted his brother. The smiles on each of their faces suggested Cal would be welcome at their bench, and sure enough, a moment later they scooted down to make room for him. Gib breathed a sigh of relief.
Is this what it feels like to be a worried parent?
He shook his head and turned to join his own friend.

At the table where Gib and his friends had sat on their very first day, Tarquin Aldino looked up with a grin. His white blond hair and unnaturally ashen skin still stood out in the crowd. The wide brim of his hat served to cover his odd-colored eyes, but he was forced to squint when he looked into the light. “Gibben Nemesio! Where have you been? You’re never this late to a meal.”

Dropping his tray to the table, Gib sat down and chuckled. “I’d have to agree there. Today is different. I had to take my little brother to meet Dean Marc and get signed up for classes.”

Tarquin nodded. “That’s right. I forgot Cal was old enough for Academy this year.”

Tipping up his cup, Gib took a drink and began to scarf down his meal. He wasn’t trying to be rude but knew his time had to be growing short. At this rate, he would have to run all the way to the palace if he wanted any chance of being on time.

“Don’t choke.” Tarquin snorted a laugh as he eyed Gib’s deplorable behavior. “I’m not going to save you if you do.”

“Sorry,” Gib apologized between mouthfuls of potatoes. “I’m late for the council meeting—”

“Oh, right. I guess I’d forgotten that, too. I suppose this means a friendly sparring match later is out of the question, eh?”

Gib nodded solemnly and let out a defeated sigh. “Koal warned that the meeting might go on all afternoon.”

“Nothing bad I hope. My father didn’t seem worried when I saw him earlier today.” Tarquin drummed his fingers on the table. “Though he tends not to worry about much of anything of substance.”

“The usual, I’m sure,” Gib replied, stabbing his fork into a slice of meat. “Privileged, old men attempting to make decisions for those who are allowed no opinion or voice on the matters most concerning to them.”

Tarquin barked a laugh. “You sound just like the seneschal.”

Gib couldn’t help but smile, forced as it may be. “I know. I guess that’s what happens when I’ve spent an entire year shadowing him.” He took a gluttonous bite, sure that he must look like some kind of starving animal. “All right. I really have to go. Pick up my tray for me?”

Tarquin waved Gib away. “Yeah, yeah. You’re welcome. Have fun at the meeting. Try not to get yourself into trouble, okay?”

“Thanks, Quin. I’ll do my best.”

As he crossed the dining hall once more, Gib risked a glance toward Cal. His younger brother was engaging the other students, and judging by the boisterous laughter rising from the table, it seemed they were getting along. Gib made the decision not to disturb them and left the room without drawing any attention to himself. He hoped the councilors would be in as high of spirits as the children but knew that was likely wishful thinking.
 

Gib ushered himself silently to his seat. Most of the other understudies were present already, but Gib was relieved to see he wasn’t the last to arrive. Nevertheless, Hasain Radek, eldest son and understudy of the King, turned to give Gib a wry smile. His dark eyes danced as he stuck his nose in the air. “Oh, there you are. We were beginning to think you’d lost yourself somewhere.”

“We?” Gib grunted as he sat down, making sure he could see out over the rail of the balcony. “Who’s we? Did you manage to make a friend?”

“No. Hasain is terrible at making friends. Being family, I have no choice but to endure his company.”

Gib leaned so far from his seat he nearly tumbled, but it was worth it to see another familiar face. “Diddy! What are you doing here?”

Prince Didier Adelwijn, who sat on the far side of Hasain, broke into a gushing smile. “Father has finally convinced Mother that I’m old enough to sit in on the meetings.” He stiffened in his seat and lowered his already hushed voice. “It was high time. Being sixteen and having never attended a council meeting was simply embarrassing.”

Gib chuckled. It was true. He and Diddy were the same age. As a prince, Diddy should have had many more responsibilities than he’d been afforded thus far. His mother, Queen Dahlia Adelwijn, hesitated due to the scare two years ago when an assassin had attempted to kill King Rishi. Diddy had been whisked out of his classes and away from public events along with his younger siblings. While it was understandable for a mother to want to protect her children, it had become somewhat of a running joke through the palace halls that the next generation of Radek rulers was going to be coddled forever.

Hasain gave them each a pointed look. “Lower your voices. The councilors keep looking up here.”

Gib rolled his eyes. He’d noticed but was disinclined to give the men below the satisfaction of cowering in his seat. Just a few short years ago, he’d have recoiled and begged pardon, but those days were long gone. Gib wasn’t as fresh as he’d been when he’d arrived in Silver and, with his better understanding of who some of these men were, he found he cared very little what they thought of him.

It was always the same councilors who gave them dirty looks—the ones in favor of promoting intolerance and stamping their feet each time King Rishi tried to pass any law not directly benefiting the highborns. Their approval would never befall misfits such as bastard children—royal or not—or commoners like Gib.

They were the ones who dug their heels in and made progress so difficult. They would keep women, lowborns, and other undesirables in the depths of Arden’s underbelly. If these men were allowed to make the laws, no one would ever be able to better themselves despite how hard they might work. A heavy feeling settled in the pit of Gib’s stomach when he thought about how different his life would have been if not for the
good
men on the council.

As if to accentuate his thoughts and lift the weight in his gut, sunlight flooded the room below. On the ground floor, two men were working tirelessly to spread the light—throwing back curtains and opening windows. The sun was strong that day and cast off even the shadows which tended to linger in the balcony where Gib and the other understudies sat.

King Rishi Radek and Seneschal Koal Adelwijn worked from opposite sides of the curtain, never sharing a word as they toiled. Their efforts were met with mixed reviews—as was typical of the council—as some men balked and others reveled in the sudden illumination.

“Of course they’re opening the curtains today.”

The sour hiss made Gib’s hair stand on end. He didn’t have to turn to know who was complaining. Liro Adelwijn, Joel’s brother and Seneschal Koal’s eldest son, was also an understudy and always at the top of his game—making everyone around him miserable.

“It’s as if they know I already have a headache.”

Gib shook his head and noticed Hasain doing the same. Liro would make a fine politician one day. He already had his complaining down to an art. A secret and wry smile curled Gib’s mouth as he indulged in the thought of Liro becoming lost and never finding his way back to Silver. Arden needed no more politicians like him.

Below, the councilors shuffled and grumbled as they found their places around the great table. Gib had begun to worry about one of the empty chairs but, to his relief, Dean Marc burst through the doors not a moment later and claimed his place.

King Rishi stormed to his seat and sprawled while he waited for the meeting to proceed. A moment later, the seat to the King’s immediate right was taken by Seneschal Koal, who cleared his throat pointedly. The other councilors turned expectant looks upon their king and seneschal.

Neetra Adelwijn, High Councilor of Arden and younger brother of Koal, stood briefly to call them all to order. His shrill voice rose over them and caused Gib to grit his teeth. Neetra called the names of all the councilors, and in turn, each responded to confirm their presence. From one corner, the sound of a quill scratching parchment carried despite the distance. Diedrick Lyle, the former Instructions Master, took notes of everything said. The man looked just as glowering and miserable as he had the first time Gib had met him.

As soon as attendance was confirmed, the King waved a dismissive hand and raised his voice before Neetra could even sit down. “Tell me again why we were all called here so hastily?”

The High Councilor stiffened. “Your Highness is well aware of the threat of war from our borders—”

King Rishi nodded and rolled his hand as if to hurry the explanation but didn’t wait for Neetra to finish. “Everyone here is well aware, as is the entire country. It would seem you’ve done an excellent job of keeping the peace and not spreading any unnecessary fear, High Councilor.”

The clip in the King’s voice made Gib wince, and even from the distance he could see Neetra’s face go red.

“The people of Arden have the right to know when they are in danger!”

King Rishi skewered the High Councilor with a withering glare. “I would agree, were they actually
in
danger.”

A cry from several men at once made Gib jump, but Koal was already on his feet, hands waving. The seneschal’s voice carried the heavy resignation of one who’d dealt with too many of these petty arguments. “All right, calm down, all of you. Councilors, my King—” Koal shot an intimidating look of his own at King Rishi, who may have smirked in response. “I suggest we proceed without throwing accusations. For the sake of the country—and our own sanity—let’s all pretend to be adults here.” He sat down heavily and silence followed. When it became apparent no one intended to speak up after that, Koal groaned. “First order of business?”