Shaden scratched his cheek. He’d stated that he’d learn the gift of empathy quickly, but now that he’d felt the spell form in his hands in an invisible blob, he didn’t know what to do with it. He’d used it on himself and had felt nothing. He’d tried it on a bird and had felt nothing.
Was he doing something wrong? The sensation of magic was the same as it was in the book. He’d read it all day, and after three prior experiences, he could replicate the spell just by touching it—and maybe it was because his senses had heightened after his transformation in the snowy mountains. The world had become clearer; mana was no exception. And through it, he could feel the shadow’s subtle presence, absorbing the magic and producing it when he willed it.
It was very, very subtle. Before, he hadn’t noticed. But now he saw that the shadow was reacting to the book, even imbuing it with power. When he read the book, the shadow began to weave magic within him. It made sense in a way. How had his grandfather and everyone before him managed to learn everything within a year? The shadow had helped.
Though, he reacted too strongly to it. If the shadow taught him one, he learned one hundred. His whole body was kind of like an amplifier. It made him wonder if he truly was talented or if it was just the shadow doing its thing, but even before the shadow, he’d been great at using magic. The shadow, in the end, was just an efficient teacher. Much like how he’d taught his friends by running the spell through their hands, the shadow was doing the same for him.
And yet, he didn’t know how to use it. He’d made the gun but didn’t know how to load and shoot.
“Ahem. Is anyone there?” he called as he’d learned from Eilae. There was a prompt knock on the door. “Come in,” he said.
A maid entered, her head in a small bow. “Is there anything you need, young master?” she asked without looking into his eyes.
“Could you help me with an experiment?” he asked.
“Of course. How can I help?”
“Stay still for a few seconds.”
He got up, putting forth his hand. The magic hadn’t harmed him; it’d be fine to use it on someone else. The maid remained motionless, though her eyes were closed. He brought forth the magic in his hand, sending it forward to the maid’s body.
It would be similar to taming, he guessed. Empathy—the ability to feel other people’s emotions.
The moment his magic touched the maid, an ominous sensation filled his body, and he wanted to get out of the room as soon as possible. He stopped the magic, retracting his hand. The feeling dissipated immediately.
The maid was still, her face unchanged. Shaden looked at his hand.
“Are you…afraid of me?” he asked.
“All servants must fear their masters,” the maid said with an iron face. “Did I upset you in any way?”
“No, no. Thank you for your cooperation. You may leave now.”
The maid bowed, heading out of the door. Shaden crossed his arms, looking up at the ceiling while he slowly walked around the room. He frowned deeply, letting out a big sigh.
Had that been the gift of empathy? It likely was, but it had felt way too personal. He’d expected a kind of distant connection like the ones he had when he bonded with animals, but this was as if he’d become the other person for that moment. The unease, the faint fatigue, the resolve, and curiosity mixed with respect that was like fear. The dread of an outstretched hand.
So many things. He felt them all. He paced around the room a little more.
“Let’s test it out a little more,” he told himself, leaving the room.
No one noticed when the door opened. No one heard his footsteps nor saw his small body walk past their eyes. The maid arranging flowers didn’t detect him, nor did the manservant cleaning the stairs. The maid had felt relief with a hint of boredom, and the servant was filled with motivation, intending to remove every speck of dust present on the railing. Some emotions overpowered others, like loud noise deafening voices at a music concert.
He visited the cook battering dough in the kitchen. Boredom, thoughtlessness, the desire to finish and go home. A longing. For who? Likely his family. He visited the servant boy brushing leaves outside. Admiration, daydreaming. For who? Someone beautiful. But soon followed sadness. Why? He stood no chance. Giving up. Peace. Enjoying the evening breeze.
Shaden resisted the desire to place his hand on the boy’s shoulder to comfort him. He circulated, becoming wholly himself. Going back into the manor, he saw a well-lit room with someone inside of it. It was Nerr, reading a book on a couch.
From the door, he cast his spell. Peace and mellow happiness. And deep within, worry. Why? But that was being ignored. Now was the slightest tiredness overwhelmed with interest. She flipped a page, and suddenly, shock. And all that time, her face remained the same.
Was this what she’d tried to do to him? He thought back to dinner. Truly, no one would want their privacy breached like this. But it was so much fun. Then he thought back to his time with Eilae and the strange feeling she’d cast on him.
Had she sensed his emotions too? His mouth dropped. What had he been feeling at that time? He scrunched his eyebrows, recreating the scene in his mind.
He’d been disappointed because she’d changed. He’d felt downcast because she wasn’t the person he’d known. Had—had she felt all of that? Shaden grabbed his head.
“Ahhh…” he groaned. “Oh no.”
No wonder why Esel had reacted so strongly against his daughter. This power—to have his emotions read like that was embarrassing and tragic. Already, he could imagine himself panicking whenever he was around any member of the Veurbois, worrying that his deepest emotions would be revealed.
But he didn’t blame Eilae. He didn’t blame any of them. Because he knew that he wouldn’t be able to stop using this power for some time. It was so much fun. So intriguing.
He returned to the third floor. The maid was still there. At least one maid was always on every floor to answer the summons of the family. He entered his room and reemerged, and the maid bowed.
“Eilae’s room is this one, right?” he asked pointing to the one next to his.
“Yes, it is,” she replied.
He could have put markers on everyone, but after his incident with the Guardian, he’d decided not to unless necessary. Even he wouldn’t always want to be monitored. The same could be said about emotions…but he wanted to try out his new toy—er, tool.
Shaden knocked on the door. “Come in,” a voice replied. Eilae’s face lit up with modest surprise when he came in, and she tightened a thin mantle around her body. He realized that she was wearing a nightgown. A thin, silky one. Looking away, he cleared his throat.
Why the heck had he come here? Hey, Eilae. I know you felt my disappointment. Sorry about that. Let’s be friends, yeah? Shoot, that wouldn’t work.
“You really haven’t changed,” she said, sitting down on a chair. “I thought your experiences would make you…hardened.”
“Same old Shaden here. I came to talk. Can I sit down?”
“Please.”
He sat down. Was this his first time in a girl’s room? It was funny that he was thinking about that since he didn’t feel much. Only worry and regret.
“You…sensed what I felt when we first talked, right?” he asked. Eilae’s lips twitched ever so slightly, then she nodded once.
“If I offended you—”
“No, I should say sorry,” he told her. “You’ve changed. But you’re still Eilae. I shouldn’t have forgotten that. You always used to talk about duty and becoming a capable woman. I should have been impressed to see you like this.”
Eilae looked at him with wider eyes, and she held her elbow, putting on a faint smile. “You’re too kind.”
Her eyes looked distant. He wasn’t sure what she was thinking. It made him worry for her, for her view of him. But now, he could be sure.
His heart connected with hers, and he felt amused. A sense of pride was the pillar while restraint acted as the ceiling, but beneath it all—beneath the dignity, numbness, resolve, and cool was sadness and longing, beat into the thinnest sheet by the hammer of duty. She looked into his eyes and the floor threatened to move, but a wave of determination suppressed it all.
A tear fell from his eye. He wiped it. It wasn’t her, but him who had subconsciously reacted to her.
“You’re only fourteen,” he said with a sniff. He didn’t want to circulate lest he rid himself of these feelings. “You should be freer.”
“I am free,” she said with confusion. “Are you okay?”
“I am. And you? Have you been well? Have you been doing the things you wanted?”
“Shaden?”
More tears. Never had he felt so much restraint in his life. And all those emotions buried deep within her heart—he felt them all. This girl of fourteen, more resolved than any adult could ever be. And the fact that this was normal for her made him ache even more. The girl from their travels had been beaten down until only a shadow of her self remained.
“You tried so hard, didn’t you?” he told her. “You tried really hard to fill the two years you spent with me. For your family. Even now, you’re forcing yourself.”
“I’m not forcing myself,” she said, becoming perplexed. Of course—because this had become natural to her. “Did something happen? Did someone tell you something?”
“No. I should apologize, Eilae.”
He wiped his eyes and circulated. Strength returned to him, and he looked her directly in the eyes. “I learned the gift of empathy,” he told her. “I told you I would do it within the week.”
“What?” She raised an eyebrow. “Surely…but no. Would you let me check?”
Shaden nodded. Foreign mana pervaded him, and her eyes widened. “You’re not lying. Then show me.”
He did, sensing her emotions. She gasped, putting a hand over her mouth.
“How?” she said. Suddenly, anger. It vanished immediately, replaced with admiration. “Shaden, that’s amazing!”
The intensity of her joy didn’t match her smiling face. He forcefully cut off their connection, causing Eilae to flinch. She looked hurt.
“Why…anger?” he asked. Her face darkened.
“I’m sorry,” Eilae apologized, lowering her head. “It won’t happen again.”
He felt sick. Why was she treating him like this? Where were her sarcasm, her wit, and her remarks on his incompetence? He sent his mana forward—then restrained himself. It wouldn’t be fair to her.
“No, Eilae,” Shaden shook his head. “I—sorry about cutting your magic off. I was embarrassed of myself.”
“No, it’s my fault for showing you something unsightly.”
“I’m not empathizing with you now,” he breathed. “Jealousy…right?”
Her face was blank, but he felt her fists curl up. “How could I?”
He didn’t want this. Why couldn’t they be honest with each other as they had been before? Or had those moments all been a facade? No, that wasn’t possible. She was too young, too inexperienced. These three years had done much to her, and he could guess the reason why. This power to feel—it was a dangerous thing.
“Eilae, it’s me,” he said. “Your friend. It’s okay to be jealous.”
“I’ll admit it. I felt brief anger because you did something I couldn’t do in many years,” she said. “But that is from my own selfishness. I shouldn’t have let you see it. Please, forget about it.”
Even now, her face was meticulously being controlled.
“How could I forget? You’re—you’re suffering so much.”
“I’m not, thank you. I will be honest. This topic is making me uncomfortable.”
I saw your tears, he wanted to say. But she seemed set on ending the conversation, and he didn’t have anything else to talk about. With a heavy heart, he slowly got up.
“Sorry about that,” he told her. “I didn’t mean to. Goodnight, Eilae.”
Before he left the room, he looked back. “Maybe you changed, but I haven’t. I still consider myself your friend. And friends are honest with each other, right? Urgh, that sounds cheesy.”
Eilae nodded with a cool smile. “Thank you, Shaden.”
“I promise I won’t read you unless you ask. So…don’t worry about that,” he muttered, scratching his cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Likewise.”
He softly closed the door behind him, hearing footsteps down the wall. Some maids had been listening, and though there were no signs of their eavesdropping, he’d heard their whispers and giggles—no, felt them. Anything ten meters around him was like broad daylight. Judging by the suppressed smile on the maid, they likely had the wrong idea about them.
He didn’t feel like reading anyone. He wanted to leave them alone—and be left alone. The maid bowed again when he walked to his room.
“Can I ask you where the bathroom is?” he asked her. “I’d like to take a bath.”
He’d cleansed himself the night before in his room with magic, but today, he was in the mood to relax in warm water. They’d told him that the baths were of the finest quality.
“Certainly. It is ready to be used. Please, follow me.”
“Let me get my clothes first.”
“Would you allow us the honor of preparing everything?”
“Oh…sure.”
She led him to the baths. Then she followed him inside and looked uneasily at him while he stood awkwardly, waiting for him to do something.
“Do you need anything?” he asked.
“If you would raise your arms…” she spoke. He did. Then she tried to undress him.
“Ah, no, no!” he gasped, jumping back. She looked equally as shocked. The maid gazed at him with caution, unsure of what to do.
“I can do it myself,” he told her. “You can leave.”
“Shall I call for another maid?”
“Er—no, I didn’t mean that,” Shaden explained. “I’m just a little shy.”
“I understand,” the maid nodded. She went out, and Shaden resisted the temptation to sense her emotions at that moment. The way that she’d spoken had sounded so understanding. He scratched his cheek, sighing deeply.
“Good grief,” he muttered. “Is this how they all live?”
Prince Boren, while there had been servants at the castle, had been quite independent. Then again, he hadn’t seen him bathe or anything. He sighed again, taking his clothes off. Would he have to get used to this? He hoped not.
The inside of the bath was filled with steam. He froze the moment he stepped inside. All the way at the other side of the bath was a man, and behind him—another maid. The steam was thick, but his senses were better.
He headed back in. He thought about leaving, but the maid was waiting outside the door. It would be awkward to go back out. It would also be awkward to stay standing in the changing room. Grabbing a towel, he covered himself and stepped into the steaming room.
He’d bathed before with the soldiers at Mentir Hold in the underground hot springs. This bath was a thousandfold brighter and fancier, with sculptures spewing water from their mouths and a ceiling of carved figures of old heroes. The tiles were of beautiful marble, looking like they had been carved from one giant boulder.
“Ah, the young lord,” the man said after seeing him. “I welcome you to the bath. It is one of our delights.”
It was Lan, the second son. He remembered the man vaguely from his birthday, gossiping about something…but his memory failed him this time. He got in the bath with his towel on, trying not to look at the maid. She was dressed, thankfully. He circulated to clear his head.
“It’s beautiful,” Shaden agreed.
“Shall we make small talk or allow the water to soothe us?”
“I think the water will be comforting,” Shaden replied. Lan nodded once, leaned back, and mumbled something to his maid. She bowed, leaving the room.
Shaden enjoyed a long period of peace, vaguely noticing Lan get up. Then he saw the young man getting a back massage from a maid at the corner and tried hard to not pay attention to them. Would he also get a massage if he asked? That would surely be a weird new experience.
Such tranquility. All seemed right in the manor. But he knew that wasn’t true. He would inevitably find out, no doubt, the more he learned of the gift of empathy. The things that had caused Eilae to change—he would come to understand them. And discovering secrets, he’d come to realize, wasn’t necessarily a good thing. The cruelty of the Nieuts, the betrayal of the Seines. Thinking back to them made his chest compress.
When he came to, he was the only one in the bath. Getting up with a yawn, he exited into the changing room where a male servant was standing with a towel around his arm. He promptly handed the towel to him with a bow, which Shaden gladly took.
“How long was I in there for?” he asked.
“An hour, my lord,” the servant said.
“Oh. Uh, did you wait long?”
“Your servant is always at your service, my lord. There is no waiting.”
He could never get used to this. Even in the palace of Raconel, things had been more moderate. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that the prince called for servants with magic, removing the need for them to wait on him. Here, there were servants in every corner, always listening, always ready. Convenient, if put positively. Negatively, there was no privacy.
The servant masterfully dressed him in a silky robe, tying it together within two seconds. He then went to the door, waiting to open it. The moment Shaden stepped towards the exit, the servant swung the door open, and Shaden walked outside. A maid was waiting for him. When Shaden walked up the stairs, the maid followed, all the way until he reached his door.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
She must be tired, he thought. They must all be so tired, serving ceaselessly like this. His curiosity got the better of him, and he sent his magic forward to look into the maid’s heart—and was thrown aback.
Duty? Loyalty? It was a feeling of deep contentment, mixed with awe and the slightest ounce of humor and curiosity. Wariness followed behind, and tiredness was last, overshadowed by everything else. But when Shaden turned his eyes towards her, subtle fear arose again. He now realized that it was the same maid whom he’d first cast his magic on.
“I think I’ll sleep now,” he told her. “You can attend to other duties.”
The maid bowed. Shaden entered his room, closing the door behind him. He stood in place for a few seconds, sensing his surroundings. The maid was still standing in the corridor, waiting patiently for whatever task would be given to her. He sighed. He felt a little sorry for her, and everyone else for that matter.
He hadn’t meant to look, but Eilae was studying. They all were. Though night had snuffed out daylight, they sat and lay under the crystal lights, each with books or papers in their hands. From the eldest to the youngest, there was not a single hand that was free. Shaden scratched his cheek. Was it too early to sleep?
He dragged himself to the desk where the black book lay. Gently flipping it open, he began to read. He hadn’t cared much for the book’s other contents, only focusing on the use of their respective gifts, but having nothing to do, he’d give it a chance.
The stories in the books were strange. All of them shared the same beginning. Of how the families came together, of how they were blessed in Skotos. Then came examples of how the gifts had been used.
“On a cold, snowy day, when light began to fade away, was sorrow felt in frightened heart, for once companion, now apart,” Shaden read, scrunching his eyebrows. He flipped over the pages. “A moment of coincidence was what had been believed, for wretched girl with distant heart was what had been perceived. A heart of pity carried body, holding what was bled, and hopelessness soon turned to panic, but then to joy instead.”
He frowned. He didn’t get it at all. It was more entertaining to go to the back where the text read more like instructions, but here, after the confusing introduction, stood poems even more confusing. He’d never asked about them, never cared. After all, he’d mastered each family art without understanding the poem-like texts.
“I guess I’ll sleep,” he sighed. He got up from the chair—
Suddenly, feelings of longing and misery caused his legs to buckle, and he fell back into the chair. The corners of his vision had dark wisps floating about like smoke. He looked down at his chest, intensifying his mana. His shadow had emerged from within, and sensing his displeasure, retreated back in immediately. All feelings stopped, and he was himself again.
It was a feeling he’d recently learned, but its significance made him recognize it right away. The gift of empathy. The shadow had made him feel involuntarily. He touched his chest, subtle worry filling him.
Was the shadow trying to take control of him? That didn’t seem to be the case. His grandfather and aunt were fine, after all. The shadow had always protected him, and for some reason, prevented him from committing murder. He didn’t get it. He didn’t get it at all.
He summoned the shadow to his hand in the shape of a ball.
“What was that?” he demanded. “Was it because I read the book?”
While the ball didn’t move, he felt faint certainty. “Why would it make you miserable?” he asked again. Again, deep sadness filled him—but he was in control now. He brushed the emotions away. The shadow couldn’t talk, but it could communicate through emotions, likely because he’d learned the gift. But emotions weren’t a viable source of information.
“I don’t get it. You can’t explain it to me, can you?”
No reply this time. The shadow had stopped responding. With a snort, he sent the shadow back into his body, erasing every trace of it. Shaden fell on his bed, burying his face in the pillow. He would never want to feel that kind of anguish. As if everything had been lost, never to be found again…
Calm enveloped his body as mana coursed through his veins. He’d been using it in moderation in fear that he might change into someone emotionless, but this feeling of loss was too much. He relaxed, welcoming the night.
⤙ ◯ ⤚
“Fools, all of them.”
The lord’s wife nodded in agreement. “They have forgotten their duties and have become lax,” Esel continued, his voice frostbitten with contempt.
Shaden had been telling them about his travels in more detail during breakfast since they had been so curious to listen. As their expressions hadn’t changed throughout, he’d told them some of his frustrations too…and only when the short recollection had ended did the lord’s face turn into ice. Everyone else’s faces, however, didn’t change.
“I thought it was natural since I was learning,” Shaden said. “And I did learn.”
“Yes, and those experiences will be valuable,” Esel agreed. “But the families should know that you are their utmost priority. Your life over theirs. Perhaps their change was inevitable given that Skotos did not have an heir for a few decades. Yet even then…they have changed too much.”
“How so?”
Esel raised a hand as if giving a great speech. “The Jakhar Kishaks, once the dominators of the sands, feared by all tribes, armed with a thousand beasts—now shepherds and pet-raisers for the wealthy. The Nieuts, once the impenetrable defenders of the north, the legend of ten against ten thousand, the shot that finds all marks—now mere gatekeepers in a rotting fortress. The Seines, once the string-pullers of the Melernian underground, the knowers of all, the seen yet unseen, now acting as errand-doers. All of them, thrice removed from their former glories.”
The lord gripped a fist, bringing it down on the table. “Only the Veurbois remain faithful to the legacy that we have been given. Forgive me; I have talked too much.”
“No, it was good to hear,” Shaden shook his head. “But hearing it raises my expectations.”
“And we will do our very best to fulfill them,” Esel told him. “Now seems like a good time.”
He clapped his hands twice, and a row of maids emerged from the doors, standing in line. All of them were young and couldn’t be ten years older than him.
“They are all capable servants,” Esel said. “One of them will become your personal attendant. Please, choose the one who pleases you.”
“Uh…I’ve never had an attendant before.”
“An attendant allows you to focus on important things rather than small inconveniences,” Portiga explained. “How wasteful it would be to spend time going to the kitchen for water when you could be reading! It is a necessity for those of importance, and a responsibility.”
It would literally take one minute to get water, Shaden muttered internally. As much as he wanted to refuse, everyone seemed to have a maid.
“You would be embarrassing them if you send them away,” Eilae said quietly. “Now that you are here, I hope you can learn of our ways, as I did.”
Shaden blinked. Eilae smiled encouragingly. It was a kind gesture…yet so unsettling. “How do I choose?” he asked.
A flutter of laughter emerged from Nerr. After a look from her brother, she cleared her throat silently and turned to Shaden. “They are all well-trained girls,” she said. “Choose whoever pleases your eyes the most.”
He looked back at the maids. Though their features differed, all of them were beautiful—then again, almost everyone in Exarria was beautiful in his eyes. But he recognized one of them.
“She’s helped me before,” he said, pointing to the red-haired maid.
“Rose, come forward,” Portiga spoke.
The maid bowed her head and stepped forward. “You are now the young lord’s. Until he leaves this house, his word will be your command.”
“I am pleased and ready to serve,” the maid replied. “Please call me Rose, at your service.”
“Rose,” Shaden repeated. “That’s a good name. I’ll be counting on you.”
“Could I ask what your preferences are?”
Shaden turned his head to Lan whose hands were gathered before him in a clasp. His eyes looked at him with all seriousness. Shaden held in a cough, trying not to let his gaze move around the room.
“Someone who is…cute?” he said. “I don’t know. Everyone here is beautiful in my eyes.”
Subtle glances rippled throughout the table. The lady of the manor clapped her hands with delight, smiling broadly as softly touched her face.
“It’s wonderful that you think so highly of us,” she spoke. “I would also consider my daughters beautiful, and if you would take a liking—”
Esel cleared his throat, and Portiga covered her mouth with her fingers, halting her speech. “Dear me, that was rude of me, wasn’t it?” she chuckled.
“I wouldn’t mind!” Eyla piped up, straightening her back. Out of the lord’s children, she and Enen, the oldest, were the only ones who had inherited their mother’s golden hair instead of their father’s silver. “Eilae told me all about you. She said you were very caring and compassionate. I think that’s noble.”
“Thank you?” Shaden said. “You seem kind as well.”
The younger girl’s face bloomed with delight, and she placed her chin on her hands, leaning on them. “I’m two years younger than you,” she informed. “Don’t you think younger women are better than older ones?”
“By old, you would mean more experienced and mature,” Nerr interjected, crossing her arms. She smiled at Shaden who kept a straight face and returned the smile.
Yet, through all of this, his focus was on the air around him. From a certain point, clouds of magic had begun to swirl around the room, moving from one person to another, attacking, connecting, mixing, and striking. If he could see magic as colors, it would have been the whole spectrum of light twirling around madly like violent storm clouds—clouds that erupted from one person and then seeped into the next. Were they all reading each other? For what reason?
But in all of this, only Eilae remained calm. No magic emerged from her, and she simply ate her food, putting in piece by piece into her mouth and chewing slowly.
“I’ve never dated before,” Shaden shrugged, putting something in his mouth as well. He swallowed, giving Eyla a clear stare. “But I wouldn’t want to date someone whose driving force is opportunism rather than love.”
He’d looked into the girl’s mind. He’d looked into everyone’s minds except Eilae’s. Below the cheerful, flirtatious words lay cold and calculating hearts, never skipping a beat. Had he not known, he might have blushed or felt happy. But the difference in their actions and emotions was so jarring that he’d begun to circulate so that he wouldn’t be overwhelmed by them.
“I apologize to everyone,” Shaden said, lowering his fork. “I’ve done the same thing Nerr did to me.”
Again, glances went around the room. They were unnoticeable, done where his vision didn’t reach, but he didn’t only see with his eyes.
Esel shifted slightly in his seat. “And by that you mean…?”
“Yes, the gift of empathy. I’ve learned how to use it,” Shaden confirmed. “Eyla, I know you think it’s funny, but it’s true.” He turned to Lan. “It’s unbelievable, I know. I would be making fun of myself if I was in your position too. Nerr…er…thank you for your interest. Ailan, yes, I think I’m pretty cool too.”
Nerr blushed and placed her hand on her cheeks. Lan looked away, and the loud clang of Eyla’s fork echoed in the silence that persisted afterwards. Her eyes were wide with fear, and she looked down at her plate, suddenly dumbstruck.
The lord’s laughter thundered throughout the dining room, breaking the tension that had begun to form. He began to clap slowly, and all of the servants began clapping as well, shaking the table with applause.
“Wonderful. Magnificent,” he exclaimed, getting up from his chair with his goblet in his hand. At that, everyone else rose from their seats with their cups. Shaden followed them and did the same.
“A toast to your future,” Esel said, raising his drink. “Now I see with my own eyes the very incarnation of the Diadem. May your path be filled with glory.”
“May your path be filled with glory!” everyone repeated, including the servants. They were still until Shaden realized that they were waiting for him to drink. He did, and the others followed, sitting back down when he did.
An eerie thing had happened. The clouds of emotion had dispersed, and in everyone’s hearts was a blank surface of apathy, completely devoid of the feelings that had been there before. No…looking deeper, the emotions had been hidden. The easiest to discover was Ailan’s, then Eyla’s. Their hearts had been draped by a sheet of nothingness. It was the same for the others, though, for someone like Lan, the bumps of sentiment were barely visible.
As for Esel and Enen…they had been unreadable from the beginning. There was not a ripple or breeze of anything. But just looking at their faces, Shaden never would have been able to tell.
“The first step—without our intervention—is complete,” Esel said. “But you may find difficulty from the second.”
“The second?” Shaden asked. “The book didn’t mention it.”
“Indeed. But there is a second, and a third. These, we do with moderation for a man’s emotions may lead to his destruction. You have read emotions—now you will control them. First yours, then that of others. Enen.”
“May I show you, my young lord?” Enen asked, placing a hand on his chest respectfully. Shaden nodded.
He felt joy. He felt bliss and love. A second after, terrible despair. Discomfort. Disgust. Along came delight and dejection, replaced with sudden calm. Finally, intense hatred.
Shaden slammed his fist onto the table. He blinked, the emotions completely gone. The wooden table had splintered under his hand.
“Oh,” he muttered. “I did not mean to do that.”
“You—you’re quite strong,” Portiga murmured, wiping her neck. “Get this changed after,” she told the servants.
“I’m so sorry. I couldn’t control myself.” He looked at the lord. “This is dangerous.”
“We are creatures of emotion,” Esel agreed. “To control them is to control the very being that lies within the body. This is a tool. Yes, it can be dangerous. But responsibility comes with power, and proper control of one’s power can be the salvation of many. My young lord, we ask of you to join us in heart and mind.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that we will share everything,” Eilae answered, her eyes meeting his. “There will be no emotion that will be withheld from you or us. Remember how you exercised daily? It’s like that, but with our abilities. You will know us far more than you could ever imagine, and we will know you. That is what it means to be one in heart and mind.”
Shaden looked around him. All of their eyes were on him, expectant and waiting. He felt his heart race faster in his chest.
“Did my grandfather do the same? And my aunt?”
“Your grandfather was a talented man. Lytha could only learn to protect herself.”
“By protecting, I would guess that it is the state of apathy,” Shaden said. “Would you give me time to think?”
Even now, he remembered Eilae when he’d first met her, the girl who’d talked about bringing people to ruin with politics because using poison or magic would leave a trace. Just like the Nieuts and their massacres, the Veurbois would have their share of secrets. By becoming one with them, he would have to help them eventually, no doubt.
“Of course. My eagerness got ahead of me,” Esel nodded. “We must satisfy your wishes. Shall we talk about your birthday then?”
A butler came forward with some sheets of paper in his hand, which he gave one to Shaden and one to the older members of the house. Listed were the foods and music for the party, as well as the decorations, lighting, plants, drinks…and finally, the guests. He’d asked them to plan it for him as he didn’t know much about planning—and this was the result.
“We’ve sent an invitation to every great family, as well as the Lord Emperor himself,” Esel said. “For your sake, do allow the servants to teach you the Empire’s etiquettes.”
“Of course.” He flipped a page, his eyes catching familiar names. “How likely are the guests to come? Who will they think I am?”
“An unprecedented individual of greatness,” Esel replied. “But most will think of it as an excuse to host a social gathering. They will come. Our invitation is not light.”
“This goes against being secretive,” Shaden chuckled. “I guess my grandfather never warned me to be secretive.”
“Because there is no need for it,” the lord agreed. “How will they hide from you? How can they protect themselves against you? All in all, it is only ourselves we are putting at risk, but the Veurbois have always held pride in serving the mysteries that surround our name.” Esel touched his chin. “Though, your family members who are outside of Skotos…”
“They’re safe,” Shaden said. “I made sure of it before I came here.”
Esel nodded. “You will need a dancing partner. While the instructor will come, my daughters will be available should you find the need to practice.”
“I’d be happy to,” Nerr smiled.
“I as well!” Eyla piped up. “I’m the only one who’s younger than you, right?”
“A gentleman does not care about the age of who he dances with, but their character,” Eilae spoke without batting an eye. She didn’t look at Shaden either or say anything further.
“I’ll ask whoever is free,” Shaden said. “Everyone seemed very busy throughout the day.”
“That’s weird,” Ailan muttered. “I didn’t see you at all.”
Something shifted in the air. Ailan seemed to sense it as well, because the moment after he said it, his eyes widened with caution, and he swung his head right at Shaden, putting on an unnatural grin. “I must have been immersed,” he added, his shoulders rigid. “The book I was reading was fun to read.”
“Er, it’s okay,” Shaden said, feeling bad for the younger boy. “Sometimes I sneak around. I don’t do anything inappropriate, so please rest assured. It’s just fun to watch things pass by, you know?”
Ailan nodded. But the air above him was still turbulent.
Shaden scowled, calling forth his shadow and slicing the air above the helpless boy. The magic was immediately cut and devoured, and several shocked faces appeared around the table. Whether it was from the shadow itself or the severance of magic, Shaden didn’t know. But he felt satisfaction, seeing their expressions. Ailan, though also shocked, had relaxed, his shoulders falling lower.
Seeing him reminded him of himself during his time in the north. Reprimanded for the smallest mistake, being cussed at for not knowing.
“Can the boy not make simple observations?” he demanded. “Can’t he question a little? Now I see that you are all influencing each other. What did you make him feel that made him so rigid?”
“He questioned your authority,” Enen answered. “He must and will learn through his mistakes for his sake.”
“I’m okay with it,” Shaden said. “How will I make friends here if everyone is so careful towards me? It doesn’t make sense.”
“You’re correct. But it does make sense.”
It was Eilae who had spoken. She met his eyes with an iron stare. “We cannot be your friends because you are someone who is beyond us. You can consider us friends, but we could never, not because we don’t want to, but to preserve order. When respect falls, so does order.”
“But I don’t want that,” Shaden told her. A pang of pain gripped his chest. “We can be friends. I’m not—”
“Forgive my interruption, but please refrain lest you embarrass yourself,” Esel interjected, his voice sliding through the air like a blade of glass. “My daughter has gotten ahead of yourself. We do not forbid friendship. After all, your grandfather and I are good friends.”
“Then—”
“Yet, not everyone is like you and your grandfather,” the lord continued. “Take the Emperor, for instance. Though he would not touch the great families out of fear of rebellion, it isn’t once that someone has been struck down due to their words. The most minor of offenses never go unpunished before the Sterdraer. My son, being the youngest, would surely have been slain for his rudeness.”
Ailan shrunk back in his chair, lowering his head.
“But it is because he has not yet mastered our art,” Esel said. “The children must learn by the age of ten. He is eight. His incompetence is natural. Still, to lay all hands off of him would be negligence, and that is the cruelest punishment of them all.”
“Negligence is the cruelest punishment?” Shaden breathed in disbelief.
“A person becomes nothing when neglected. Praise honors him, and punishment disciplines him, but negligence leaves him in his wretched state. My young lord, I do not wish to argue against you. Please, rescind your anger.”
“I wasn’t—I’m sorry for that,” Shaden said, clearing his mind with mana. “I got a bit emotional. I shouldn’t have spoken like that. This place also has its own set of rules. I learned that in the north, I learned that in Melern.”
He exhaled deeply. “All of you treating me like I’m someone higher must have gotten to my head. I’m not like that. You know how I was raised, right? Normal family. I didn’t go to Skotos until I was six.”
“That’s no excuse.”
Eilae was looking—almost glaring at him. “You are now thirteen. But even before, you were different. You have unimaginable talent, maybe greater than that of Saiton the Sage himself. You don’t seem to be aware of that, or you’re ignoring it. You’re choosing to belittle yourself, to stay powerless, to be weak by showing kindness. The fact is, you are someone higher. Your existence itself is a miracle. Who in the world has limitless mana at their disposal? Who can learn magic so quickly and freely?”
The table was quiet when she finished her sentence. She moved back into her chair, glancing around. “Only I can tell you this because I was your friend. But if you come to realize your position in the world, you would see me as no more than an annoyance if I act out of line.”
“But I would never,” Shaden told her. “This is like a dream for me.”
“I’m glad that you think that,” Eilae smiled sadly. “But we can’t stay forever in our dreams, can we?”
A sudden, sharp noise interrupted the silence.
“Now, now, the talks are becoming too serious. Now is time for dessert!” Portiga clapped, bringing in a rush of servants with carts filled with steaming pastries, sweets, and drinks to be enjoyed. “My daughter is quite the honest speaker, which I admire her for, but she says too much sometimes. Don’t take them to heart. After all, life is best when enjoyed lightheartedly.”
“Yes,” Shaden nodded, looking away from Eilae. She did the same.
All the while, while the desserts were being set, Shaden didn’t speak. When they began to eat the desserts, he didn’t speak. Only when he was asked questions, much simpler ones this time, did he open his mouth to say a sentence or two. He was hurt on the inside, and the sick feeling of uncertainty began to crawl into his throat again. Not because of strangers this time, but because of someone he’d wished to see for the longest time.
He went straight to his room after breakfast. The maid, Rose, followed closely behind him. When she entered after him naturally, he almost pointed to the door in surprise but sat down instead, falling onto his bed with his eyes on the ceiling decorated with carvings of flowers and trees. They were, he observed, similar to the ones he saw in the garden in Skotos.
“Will you get dressed for the day?” Rose asked modestly. “Lord Esel says that you are free to rest as you have already mastered the first part of the gift. He also says that if you wish to master the entirety of it, you are welcome to join in on their calisthenics.”
Shaden raised an eyebrow.
“Calisthenics?”
“Yes,” the Rose confirmed. “They exercise regularly.”
“I think I will rest for now,” Shaden said, turning in his bed. “If I dismiss you, what will you do?”
“As I am your maid, I shall await your orders outside.”
“For the whole day?”
“I can take short breaks when another will substitute for me, but for the most part, yes.”
“Today is your day off,” Shaden muttered. “Just rest.”
“Please, please allow me to attend to you,” the maid requested, lowering her head deeply. “I would have no greater pleasure.”
He looked at her, scratching his cheek. “Then do what is most comfortable for you.”
“I thank you for your consideration.”
She left the room, closing it with the smallest sound a door could ever make. With one eye open, Shaden peeked outside. Sure enough, the maid was standing by the door like a mannequin.
Shaden withdrew all of his mana into himself and let out a deep sigh, turning his eyes towards the window. He’d just finished breakfast. Lunch, thankfully, was not usually eaten together, but dinner was. And in between them, everyone would be occupied doing their respective tasks, whether it was cleaning for the servants or dealing with papers for Enen or Lan.
It was his third day there, and already he had run out of things to do. He got up and walked up to the window, looking out at the broad front yard. Even now, the grass and trees and bushes were being watered and cut, the walkways swept and scrubbed, and the gates and walls patrolled by soldiers. There was not an idle soul he could see.
Should he read a book, or learn new spells? But he’d done so much of that in Raconel. Here, he’d wanted to joke around with Eilae, play games with her siblings, and maybe go horseriding together. Those things seemed so far away now. He could ask, but…
Shaden placed a hand on the window. After what had happened, how could he?
He wanted to know what had happened to Eilae. What did she truly feel? There was no way that she looked up to him as a kind of supreme existence. After all, she’d made so much fun of him during their travels. Perhaps not in the beginning, but they’d grown closer.
He’d believed they had. But that was gone now, lost under the passage of time.
Something shimmered, and the sun’s golden light reflected into silver. Shaden noticed the bracelet that was around his wrist, the same one that Eilae had gifted him for his ninth birthday. Being made of a special kind of metal that had incredible mana compatibility, it had felt like his own body when he’d first touched it. Now, after wearing it for so long, it essentially was.
It, like the golden ring he’d been gifted by the Jakhar Kishaks, was extremely valuable, often earning him greed-filled stares from here and there. It was why he’d learned to keep them hidden with his magic, applying stealth to only the accessories. Being made of magical metals, at one point they’d begun to absorb mana automatically as if remembering the spell he had constantly cast on them.
He undid the spell, displaying the bracelet in its full glory. It still shone brilliantly. It made him remember the journey he’d loved with Eilae and Lytha—the days of touring and adventuring without a care in the world.
Those moments could never be forgotten. He touched the bracelet with his free hand, holding it tightly in his fingers.
“Becoming one with a Veurbois,” he muttered, steadying his resolve. “What am I afraid of?”
Being used? Such a minor thing, and they were willing to please him. That his emotions would be revealed? He had nothing to hide. If worse came to worst, he could always circulate to keep his mind calm and clear. The answer was that he was more stupid and ignorant than he had thought, tossing away this opportunity to learn something more.
Tossing away a chance to get into Eilae’s heart. He would never want to lose a friend.
“Rose!” he called. The maid promptly entered.
Shaden took in a deep breath.
“There’s something I need you to tell Lord Esel.”