Chapter Fourteen

Vincen

Vincen hadn’t realized how much he missed the rain. It had been a little less than two months since he’d left Savaria after his graduation. He had spent that time in Alabaron City, with its cooler and drier climate, learning how to be a proper nobleman and preparing for his engagement ceremony. Savaria, though, was his home and had been for more than just the ten years he had attended the Mage’s Academy. He had been born in an estate just across the river delta, and his childhood was spent among the fertile fields and foothills of the mountains. Savaria was nestled in the lowlands of the southeast corner of the Empire, about a hundred miles upriver from the coast of the Narrow Sea. Warm, moist air would blow in off the sea and build up against the eastern mountains, trapped in place by the cooler air coming down from the peaks, which resulted in a warm, humid climate with plenty of rain, regardless of the season.

Some of that warm ocean rain was falling now as his carriage rattled down one of the nicer side streets of Savaria, only about a mile or so from the Mage’s Academy. Ferran and Miquel’s family owned a very successful clothing store in town and were doing quite well for themselves. Vincen had been shocked when his father told him that they were, in fact, far better off than many of the lesser nobility currently were. The homes in this neighborhood reflected the financial status of the emerging merchant class. They were grand, though not nearly as large and sprawling as the townhomes in the noble’s quarter where Vincen’s family had a place, though they hardly ever used it. The homes here were three or four stories tall and narrow, built close together and in many cases even shared walls. A few of them were set back behind high brick walls, though most were not, and had steps leading up to wide porches and grand front doors with tall windows on either side, the shutters locked back and open. For how similar the homes appeared there was a surprising amount of variety in the architecture, resulting in a kind of visual cacophony that was still somehow pleasing to the eye. Vincen liked it, though he was slightly embarrassed to admit that despite its proximity to his old school he had never before visited his friends’ home, or even been down this street. He briefly wondered how many times Ona had explored this neighborhood. It was outside the limits of her Bond, but he had no doubt that she would have pestered Alba into traveling this way at least a few times. It was exactly the sort of place she loved. He shook his head. He couldn’t let himself think about her, not today, at least.

The carriage rolled to a stop and the coachman waited for a street car to rumble by, pulled along its tracks by a cable buried just below the surface of the street. Well-dressed travelers and dirty factory workers pressed against each other on the crowded car and Vincen thought he saw more than one passenger eying his carriage with looks of either envy or disgust, he couldn’t tell which. The street car passed by and the coachman prodded the horse forward, deftly turning around in the middle of the road and pulling up in front of a three-story home that was nestled in between two other very similar townhouses. Ferran and Miquel’s home was both stately and understated. The front of the house was of white-painted brick with thick pillars rising from the corners of the porch supporting balconies at each of the upper stories, with black iron railings across the front. The front door was painted red, and gas lanterns flickered welcomingly on either side of the door, despite it being nearly noon.

The carriage rocked as the coachman climbed down and opened the door. Vincen stepped down from the carriage and nodded appreciatively at the coachman and smiled as a bit of the rain hit his face, despite the umbrella the coachman was holding out for him - he wished he could remember the man's name, he really was quite competent. He looked around for a moment, then sighed. Rayna had flown off the moment they arrived in Savaria the previous night and he had not seen her since. As soon as their Bond had matured she had taken to flying off whenever and wherever she felt like it. He didn’t even know what her current range was since they had hardly said five words to each other over the last few days. Even Nahuel spoke to him more than she did and her attitude was starting to annoy him.

The coachman led him up the steps to the front door and as soon as they were under the porch he removed the umbrella and shook it dry before collapsing it and smoothly tucking it under his arm. He then stepped forward and rang the bell while Vincen hung back, folding his arms behind him and standing tall, as his father had taught him. He was beginning to regret that Kelso was not with him, but they were only going to be in Savaria for a day and Kelso had to shop for supplies, leaving Vincen to handle this business himself. It was important that he make a good impression today, particularly since the last time he had seen his friends things had been rather… awkward, to say the least. Vincen had briefly seen Ferran and Miquel’s parents on the night of their graduation, but they had never been introduced. He imagined they were none too happy to be sending their boys off with a brash young nobleman who had already managed to embroil them in a very embarrassing scandal. Unfortunately, as commoners, they had no say in the matter and could only accept their fate with quiet reserve. Of course, Vincen didn’t have much say in the matter either, since both his father and the King had decided that Vincen would be taking the twins as his attendants. It was a little unusual for siblings to be assigned to the same posting, as the general wisdom was to try and spread the Empire’s mages as far as possible to maximize the effectiveness of the relatively scarce resource, but Ferran and Miquel’s unique Skill made them an exception to that rule. Besides, Prince Andreu had made it quite clear that the boys were now Vincen’s responsibility since he had damaged their reputation so thoroughly.

The locks rattled and the front door swung open. An older but surprisingly fit woman in the simple black dress and white bonnet of a housemaid greeted them. Vincen was a little surprised to see a woman answering the door instead of a footman until he remembered that commoners could generally not afford the large number of staff that families like his employed. There were probably no more than three servants in this household, assuming they had a younger child to help the cook and run errands. This woman most likely did everything from cleaning to helping the lady of the house with her dressing and bathing, leaving the men to more or less fend for themselves. It was a sobering realization. Vincen had always known there was a large gulf between him and even well-to-do commoners like Ferran and Miquel, but he was only just starting to understand what that truly meant.

“Greetings, M’Lord,” the maid said, with the short, clipped accent of the city’s lower class. She curtsied somewhat clumsily and stepped aside. “We’ve been expecting you. Please, do come in out of the rain.”

“Thank you, dear woman,” the coachman said, speaking for Vincen. He nodded graciously and gestured for Vincen to enter the house, which he did. He found himself in a long but narrow entry hall, with an elegant stairway off to the right leading to the upper floors. A large and intricate wrought-iron chandelier hung in the middle of the hall with a dozen small gas lanterns hanging from its spindly limbs. Gas-fired sconces lined the walls, giving the space a warm, welcoming atmosphere that Vincen preferred over the stale and lifeless cast of runelight. A few simple pieces of art adorned the wall, depicting country life. Vincen smiled. It was all quite homey, and he liked it.

A wide door immediately to their left opened into a small but well-lit parlor, and the housekeeper ushered them into the room, where a handsomely dressed man and woman stood, respectfully waiting.

“Lord Mage Canto, welcome,” the husband said, bowing while his wife curtsied. Vincen nodded his acknowledgement and suddenly had a moment of panic as their names fled his mind. How does Kelso do it? he thought, smiling as he desperately tried to recall the information Kelso had been practically beating into him over the last three days as they rode the train from the Capital back to Savaria. There was no helping it, however, their names were thoroughly and completely gone from his memory. Hopefully, this visit would be short enough that he could make do on their surname alone.

“Mister Escoffier, it is a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said, trying to sound like his father and fearing that he sounded like a fraud instead. “Your sons often spoke quite highly of you. I am sorry to intrude on such short notice. I don’t wish to keep you from your affairs for too long.”

“I assure you, my Lord, it is no trouble at all,” Mister Escoffier replied, his polite smile affirming to Vincen that this visit was, indeed, quite inconvenient. Vincen suppressed a wince at the implied accusation as Ferran and Miquel’s father stepped aside and gestured at his wife. “Might I introduce my wife, Manon?”

Jarome and Monon! Those were their names! “Yes, of course,” Vincen said, trying not to smile at his personal little victory as he stepped forward, taking Missus Escoffier’s offered hand. “Ferran and Miquel often spoke of you as well, madame. I am pleased to say that their descriptions of your beauty did not stray into the realm of exaggeration in the slightest,” he said, bending forward slightly as he kissed the back of her hand.

“I find that hard to believe, M’lord,” she said, blushing a little nevertheless. She turned and gestured to the sitting area, where two couches sat facing each other across a low coffee table. “Please, won’t you have a seat while we wait for the boys? They should be with us shortly.”

“Thank you, madam,” Vincen said, allowing her to guide him to one of the couches. Vincen sat and glanced around the room again, which was sparsely yet tastefully decorated with trinkets that reminded him of a country lifestyle. Vincen tried - and failed - to recall what Kelso had told him about Mister Escoffier’s youth: had Jarome grown up in the countryside or had it been his father?

The Escoffier’s settled down on the couch opposite from him, and their maid stepped in with a tea tray, which she skillfully set on the table with hardly a rattle. Vincen’s coachmen - he really did need to learn the man’s name - immediately stepped in and began preparing him some tea, and Vincen blinked in surprise. The older man had somehow found the time to shed his coat and freshen up, despite them having only been in the house a mere handful of minutes. Vincen watched with curiosity as the coachman reached over and removed the lid from an ice bucket and withdrew several frozen cubes with a pair of tongs, carefully dropping them into the still steaming tea. He then sprinkled a handful of small shelled nuts into the cup before standing primly and handing the finished concoction to Vincen.

“A recent local invention, Lord Mage,” he said as Vincen accepted the teacup, which was a bit taller and thicker than he was used to. “I do believe you will find it to your liking.”

“Thank you,” Vincen nodded, taking the teacup and noticing that the Escoffiers were watching him somewhat nervously as they accepted their own drinks from their maid. Mister Escoffier was hiding his apprehension better than his wife, however, and Vincen tried not to sigh. He knew this couldn’t be easy for them, though they had all known this day was coming. It was a small miracle that Ferran and Miquel had been allowed to return to their own home after graduation at all. Maybe it would have been easier to simply summon Ferran and Miquel to his estate, as Kelso had initially suggested. But Vincen had insisted on meeting his friend’s parents. Nothing less would have felt right. He took a sip of the tea, and was surprised to find it pleasantly sweet and creamy, with a slightly earthy smell thanks to the nuts.

Vincen suppressed a stupid grin - all of his father’s and Kelso’s warnings about maintaining his noble composer flooding his mind - and took another, deeper, swig of the wonderful drink. He then lowered his cup, watching how the milky swirls of cream twisted about, seeming to toy with the dark tea and ice cubes. It was fascinating - and he was stalling.

“This is incredible,” Vincen said, looking up and smiling at his hosts, who visibly relaxed - at least a little. “What’s it called?”

“Kelendarian Iced Tea, My Lord,” Jarome replied, making a show of taking a sip from his own cup. “As your man said, it is a recent addition to our city. I doubt you will find it available elsewhere. A restaurant I frequent discovered the recipe and has perfected it with local ingredients. The apitasia nuts in particular are unique to Savaria.”

“Our city should be proud,” Vincen replied, taking another sip and frowning through his smile as he realized he had inadvertently finished off his drink. “Truly, I’m not simply being polite when I say this,” he said, lifting his empty cup toward his footman, “but it really is fantastic. Could I trouble you with the name of your restaurant? We must try it while we’re all still in town.”

“And how long shall that be, My Lord?” Jarome asked, and Vincen noticed Missus Escoffier subtly tense as she set her teacup down on the table, glancing quickly - and then away from - her husband.

“Well…” Vincen said, blinking rapidly and hardly noticing when the coachman took the teacup from his hand. What was he supposed to say? I’m so sorry, but your sons and I must leave in the morning. The fate of the Empire depends upon our haste. Even as he tried not to think about it, the entire situation felt ridiculous to him. These people were about to entrust their sons to his care, and together they were expected to help save the Empire. He was now - whether he wanted it or not - responsible for their lives. He was taking over the job this seemingly nice couple had been doing for the last sixteen years. There was nothing for it – he was a nobleman and noblemen must have their retainers and attendants. It didn’t matter how silly Vincen himself found the idea, it was simply the way things were done. What was Aarmond even thinking, sending him on this mission? He had only just graduated. He wanted his revenge against Borden, of course, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized everyone was right; he was no soldier.

Jarome chuckled, casually taking another sip of his tea. “I apologize. The business of the Royal Family is, of course, their own. We are overjoyed and greatly humbled that House Canto would consider our sons worthy of serving the Empire in such a high station.”

Stolen story; please report.

“Yes, well..,” Vincen said a little too quickly, grateful for the lifeline that Mister Escoffier had thrown him. “Ferran and Miquel have been good friends to me throughout my time at the Academy. We’re happy to take them on. Truthfully, I can’t imagine doing anything without them by my side….” He trailed off and took another sip of tea. Even as he said those words they sounded trite.

Missus Escoffier tittered, shakily setting her teacup down, and Vincen noticed - for the first time - just how pale she looked. “The boys have always been so kind and gentle,” she said, her voice strained. “To be painfully honest, we were worried they would find a place at all, what with the Empire in its current state… You seem to favor soldiers these days, after all, and our boys are no warriors…”

“Manon,” Jarome said sharply, glancing at his wife with a stern look that Vincen almost missed, distracted as he was by the look of deep concern that Missus Escoffier held in her eyes.

“Well, this is awkward.” said a young woman’s voice from over his shoulder, and Vincen jumped despite himself. He jerked his head around and found Rayna floating there, just behind his shoulder. Seriously, she was turning out to be worse than Ona.

“My Lord?” the coachman asked, raising a questioning eyebrow as he offered Vincen his cup of tea.

Vincen sighed as he accepted the teacup. “Sorry, it’s just my sister, Rayna. She’s finally decided to join us,” he said, shooting Rayna a glare. “She’s a shade,” he added, almost as an afterthought. She grinned at him and raised her fist in a rude gesture before settling down on the back of the couch, just over his left shoulder, the tail of her cloak settling lazily down behind her.

“I… never realized you had a sister,” Jarome said with a frown, looking at the spot behind Vincen’s shoulder as if doing so might somehow help him see her.

You’re not the only one, Vincen thought, taking a sip of his tea while trying to think up a suitable reply. Rayna’s existence was wonderful – and would be even more so if he could figure out a way to get her to start talking to him. But it was also problematic. Everyone believed Vincen’s twin had been a stillborn boy, and to now suddenly realize they had all been so dramatically wrong was casting Vincen’s family in a poor light. Already Vincen had heard a few whispers, suggesting that his father had known the truth all along. It was ridiculous, of course, but Vincen was beginning to understand another rule of noble society: It didn’t matter if a rumor was true or not, it only mattered if you could get enough people to believe it. The fact that Lady Katerina was able to protect Alba’s reputation by convincing everyone that she was trying to save Aarmond from Vincen’s foolishness was proof enough of that.

He set his cup aside and gave the Escoffiers a small, almost apologetic smile. “We… only recently learned about her ourselves. As I’m sure you can imagine, things at the palace have been rather hectic since – since the assassination. As such, we haven’t gotten to know each other very well yet.”

Missus Escoffier gave him a quizzical look. “She is your twin, yet you do not know her well?”

“We were raised separately,” he said, glancing at Rayna.

“That’s one way to say it,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Jarome looked thoughtful for a moment, then smiled. “Well then, Lady Rayna, it is a pleasure to welcome you into our home. I assume you did not attend the Mage’s Academy, then?”

Rayna gave Jarome a funny look. “What kind of stupid question is that?”

Vincen glanced from Rayna to Jarome and realized he had no idea what sort of education she had received. She didn’t use slang, and her pronunciation was almost as clear and precise as Alba’s or Ona’s, with barely a trace of the lower-class accents, but her manner of speech much more closely resembled that of his commoner classmates from the academy. He picked up his teacup and took another sip of his drink. This wasn’t exactly how he had imagined this meeting going, but, honestly, he hadn’t exactly been certain what to expect in the first place. He just knew that it was something he had to do. He set the cup down again and smiled at Mister Escoffier. “I’m afraid she did not, which I understand is a bit unusual.” Vincen glanced at Rayna again and frowned slightly, trying to think of what to say next. How much did he want the Escoffiers to know about her and Borden? Ferran and Miquel would find out soon enough - where were they, anyway? - but that didn’t mean their parents needed to know the details. “My sister’s circumstances are rather unique,” he said, turning back to look at the couple and giving another apologetic shrug. “I’m certain that once my father and King Aarmond have returned the palace to some semblance of normalcy, they will address the matter more directly.”

Mister Escoffier smiled and nodded his head at Vincen. “I understand, My Lord. These are, as you say, troubled and delicate times.”

“But still,” Missus Escoffier said, looking at Vincen with something like pity in her eyes, “to be raised apart from your twin… well, I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you.”

“I thank you for your concern, madam, though I’m certain Rayna had the harder time of it.”

“Can we change the subject?” Rayna said, her voice tight.

“In any case,” Vincen said, turning to Jarome. “Ferran and Miquel informed me that you are a clothier. My valet is at your store even as we speak, choosing some new clothes for me and my retainers. I look forward to sampling your wares.”

“My staff and I would be honored to serve you more personally, My Lord. While I do not doubt your valet’s skill, there is simply no substitute for a proper fitting.”

Vincen nodded. “Of course, and I look forward to it. Unfortunately, we do not have the time right now. It is my hope that our next visit to Savaria can be more leisurely. I do plan on making my home here someday soon.”

“Thank you,” Rayna said quietly, not looking at him or anyone else. Vincen felt his heart twist at the pain in her voice. Of course she’d had the harder time of it. Who knew what sort of lies Borden had told her? He suddenly felt ashamed at having been so irritated with her earlier. She had just recently died. Clearly, she needed time to come to grips with that and everything else that had happened. Heralds knew that Vincen himself was still having trouble wrapping his mind around his new reality.

“What sort of work do you have planned for my boys, Lord Mage Canto?” Jarome asked, and almost as if they had been waiting for the summons, Ferran and Miquel appeared in the doorway, dressed in modern - which meant slightly more casual than Vincen’s father would have liked - outfits. Their sandy brown hair was oiled back, making it appear darker and smoother than its usual, somewhat messy, waviness. Vincen grinned and stood to greet them, but brought himself up short as they bowed deeply.

“My Lord,” they said in unison, holding the bow, their eyes downcast. “We are your humble servants, and are honored to place ourselves in your care.”

“Guys…” Vincen said, taken aback by his friend’s strict formality. They hadn’t even been this formal on their graduation night.

Rayna drifted up beside him, studying the twins as her short hair settled far too slowly back into place. Vincen was used to the way Ona’s hair and robes flowed beautifully and elegantly about her, but Rayna’s clothing and hair were very, very different, almost masculine in some ways. He found her attire odd and distracting. He knew that Lower-class girls were starting to keep their hair short and wear breeches more often these days, but it was still frowned upon, particularly in high-society. So far Rayna had said almost nothing to him about her life aside from confirming that she had grown up in Borden’s house as his ward. Vincen wondered what kind of nobleman Borden was if he allowed a girl in his care to run around dressed like a boy. “Friends of yours?” Rayna asked, a hint of a smile in her voice.

Vincen blinked, focusing his attention back on the moment. His concerns about Rayna could wait. He had a role to play here. “I thank you for your dedication and welcome you into my House,” Vincen said, his mind flashing back to the day he had spoken those same words to Kelso. They felt no less awkward this time than they had back then. “Please, rise, and join me at the table.” Ridiculous words, he thought, since there was no table, unless one counted the small coffee table. Still, tradition must be followed.

Ferran and Miquel rose and blinked in surprise as they noticed Rayna. They looked at each other for a moment, then nodded, seeming to have come to some unspoken conclusion. Rayna cocked her head and raised an eyebrow at Vincen. He looked between his sister and friends and suppressed a sigh. “I’ll explain later,” he said. “To all of you. Shall we?” he said, gesturing to the sofas.

“Thank you, My Lord,” Ferran said, the two of them giving him a slight nod as they moved to the sofas, each of them taking a seat on either side of their parents.

Vincen sat across from them and an uncomfortable silence settled on the group. Rayna settled back down on the back of the couch behind Vincen. Vincen knew he should be the one to speak first, but he had absolutely no clue what to say. Thanks for letting me take your sons from you, just didn’t seem appropriate. Ferran and Miquel kept glancing up at Rayna as the silence grew to nearly intolerable levels.

“You’re no good at this sort of thing, are you?” Rayna commented. Vincen was about to say that he'd like to see her do better when Mister Escoffier spoke first.

“Pardon me, My Lord Mage,” he said hesitantly. “The boys’ arrival interrupted me earlier, but I was curious as to what sort of work you intended for my sons?” He glanced quickly at his wife before giving Vincen an apologetic smile. “Mothers tend to fear the worst for their children, you know. ”

Not only mothers, Vincen thought wryly. He cursed Aarmond once more for sending him on this mission. True, it was mostly a scouting mission in which his primary function was to act as the King’s figurehead and more-or-less stay out of the way while those who knew what they were doing did their jobs, but he had no doubt that his Father and Aarmond were right; the Fire Lake was too important for Borden to ignore. Trouble would find him there, he was certain of it. Ferran and Miquel’s Skill would be invaluable in a crisis. Instant communication across large distances could mean the difference between life or death, and not just for himself, but potentially the Empire as a whole. “Uhm… Communications, mostly,” he replied, keeping his reply as vague as possible without actually lying. “You know, running messages and such. Getting an instant reply will give me a significant advantage with my business dealings.” Vincen cringed internally. Ferran and Miquel’s father was a businessman. Certainly he had considered that same thing, and here Vincen was, stealing them from him.

“Indeed,” said Jarome, betraying no hint as to how he felt about Vincen’s thoughtless remark. “The boys are well-suited to such duties. I am pleased you see their Skill in the same light as we do.”

“If only Michel would too,” muttered Manon.

“Please, Manon…” said Jarome softly. Missus Escoffier sniffed and took a sip of her tea. “My apologies, Lord Mage,” said Jarome. “Michel is our oldest son, and he… prefers to distance himself from his brothers. Such behavior is common with mage’s siblings, I have been told. Do you find this to be true?”

Vincen glanced up at Rayna, who shrugged. “Don’t look at me,” she said.

“I couldn’t say,” Vincen said. “Until recently I believed I was an only child. My fiancé, Lady Mage Alba, and her twin sister were also the only children in their family.” He paused, suddenly realizing how little he knew about those closest to him. “I never realized Ferran and Miquel had a brother, to be honest.”

“He is of little concern to us, our Lord,” said Miquel.

Ferran nodded. “We avoid him, and he avoids us. The arrangement is mutually satisfactory.”

“I know a few people I wouldn’t mind having that arrangement with,” said Rayna. The twins smiled at her in unison. “Ok, you two are creeping me out. What are you, some kind of psychics?”

“My Lord,” the coachman said, leaning forward slightly. “The hour grows late.”

Vincen wanted to jump up and hug the man for giving him the excuse he needed to end this misery. “Of course,” he said, standing up and straightening his jacket with as much dignity as he could muster. “Thank you for the reminder.” The Escoffiers all stood as well, Missus Escoffier rising a bit slower than the others. Vincen nodded to them. “I’m afraid we must depart now. Our train leaves early in the morning and we have a long journey ahead of us. I thank you for your kind hospitality.”

Mister Escoffier bowed while his wife curtsied deeply. “The pleasure is ours, Lord Mage Canto,” said Mister Escoffier. “I am honored that our family has been given this opportunity to serve, for the good of the Empire.”

“For the good of the Empire,” Vincen and the others replied. All except Rayna, that was. Vincen glanced back at her with a frown. She cocked a hollow gray eye at him, which looked so similar to his own that he shook his head and looked away quickly.

Missus Escoffier stood up from her curtsy and pulled Ferran into a hug, which he returned rather awkwardly. When they were done she reached for Miquel.

“You have already hugged us, mother,” he said. “There is no need to do so again.”

“Don’t pull that on me, young man,” she replied. “I hugged Ferran, not you. Now get over here.”

Miquel relented with a sigh while Ferran stood at Vincen’s side, watching with a bemused smirk.

“Our Lord is waiting, mother,” Ferran said after a moment, a sigh in his voice that Vincen pretended not to notice.

“It’s alright,” said Vincen. While he was eager to get out of there, he did not want to intrude on their goodbye’s either. Miquel pulled away and took his place beside his brother. “The porters will be along for their luggage this evening,” Vincen said as his coachman opened the door.

“There is no need to trouble yourself, my Lord,” said Mister Escoffier. “We can make the arrangements ourselves.”

“Nonsense,” said Vincen. “Their expenses are my responsibility now. Besides, if I know my valet, he’s already made the arrangements. Thank you once again for your hospitality, and for your service to the Empire.” He turned and followed the coachman into the main hall and out the front door, Ferran and Miquel only a few steps behind. Rayna had vanished again at some point, he realized. He found her waiting for him as he stepped into the carriage, sitting on the bench by the window. “Ona doesn’t bother pretending to sit,” he said as he settled into his spot and moved his legs aside to make room for the twins to climb in next.

“Good for her,” said Rayna.

“I’m just saying you don’t need to worry about keeping up appearances. I really am used to shades, you know.”

“Well, maybe I’m not,” she said with a huff and flew off through the carriage wall.

Miquel was climbing in and saw her leave. He looked over at Vincen. “Comparing a woman to your old girlfriend is not usually wise, my Lord. Even if that woman happens to be your sister.”

“Stuff it, Miquel.”

“We live to serve, my Lord,” Miquel said as he settled onto the bench opposite Vincen and made room for his brother. The twins were silent as the coachman shut the door, though there was a slight hint of a smile on their lips, especially Miquel’s.

A few moments later the coach lurched forward and began making its way through the damp and muggy streets of Savaria. Vincen watched the rows of narrow houses pass by, wondering where Rayna had gone off to. This, he thought, is going to be a long trip.

END OF CHAPTER FOURTEEN