Chapter Twelve
Vincen
When Vincen woke the next morning Rayna was gone but his father was there, sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed, watching him. He looked exhausted, with heavy bags under his eyes and dark stubble on his normally smooth cheeks. His suit was rumpled and unkempt, his mustache frayed and dry. Vincen lay there, not moving. There were flecks of gray in his beard and wrinkles at the edges of his eyes that Vincen had never noticed before.
They stayed like that for several minutes, simply watching each other, neither moving or saying anything; not that Vincen knew what to say anyway. His uncle and cousin were dead, murdered right in front of him. His sister was… well, he had a sister, who also happened to be dead. He didn’t know why that bothered him so much. Vincen had always known that his twin was dead, though he - and everyone else - had always believed that he’d died at birth, and that he’d been a “he”... Vincen had so many questions he didn’t even know where to begin.
Prince Andreu lowered his head and sighed, reaching up and rubbing the bridge of his nose. When at last he raised his head again his expression had changed, as if a bit of life had returned to him. Vincen sat up, wincing. His whole body ached.
“I love you, son,” Andreu said, his voice hoarse and soft.
Vincen blinked, freezing in the middle of adjusting his blankets. His father sounded as tired as he looked, and Vincen wondered if he had gotten any sleep at all since the night of the attack. Vincen cleared his throat, realizing how dry and parched it was. He couldn’t think of anything to say in return, so instead he reached for the glass of water on the nightstand.
Prince Andreu sat up and squared his shoulders, then stood and half-heartedly tried to smooth a few wrinkles from his shirt. He frowned, then crossed the small room and poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher on Vincen’s nightstand. “Is she… is your sister still here?”
Vincen lowered his glass and looked around the room. The water was warm but still felt good in his throat. He saw no sign of Rayna.
“No,” he said, slowly shaking his head, vaguely wondering where she had gotten to. He could tell - somehow - that Rayna was nearby, though he couldn’t explain how he knew this, or exactly how far away she was or even in what direction. He had taken the introductory courses on the Bond, just like every other student at the Academy, but they hadn’t mentioned anything like this. Maybe it was covered in the more advanced courses that were intended for students who already had a shade? He’d have to ask Alba about it the next time he saw her. “What about the wards?”
His father gulped down his water and lowered his glass, the cup seeming to weigh as much as a large rock in the prince’s hand. “I had them removed,” his father said, and Vincen was struck once again by how tired his father seemed. “She’s not a threat to anyone. Not anymore.” Andreu refilled his glass from the pitcher on Vincen’s nightstand and then sat down on the edge of the bed. “You have many questions, I am sure.”
Vincen nodded. “How many did he..?” he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
“Including the royal family, eighteen. Mostly soldiers, though a few guests were caught in the cross-fire. Aarmond is safe, thankfully, but our family is greatly reduced. I believe that was his goal, at least in part.”
Vincen closed his eyes and felt sick. He had known that it was going to be bad, but he had been so focused on Borden that he hadn’t quite realized just how terrible things had truly been. “And what about Borden? Is he dead?”
His father’s face darkened slightly, a look in his eyes that Vincen couldn’t quite place, and shook his head. “He cannot hide for long,” he said, his voice tight. “The entire, terrible might of the Empire is upon him now.”
Vincen nodded slowly and took another drink of water. He could still feel Borden’s hands around his neck, a sensation he doubted he would ever forget. He shuddered and tried to push the feeling aside. He sighed, then met his father’s gaze. “Did you know? About my sister, I mean.”
“No,” Andreu said firmly, his lips drawing into a thin line, and Vincen believed him. His father had always been an honest man, and so he was surprised to find that part of him didn’t want to believe him. He wanted to jump out of bed and shout at his father - he wanted to rail and storm and yell about the injustice of it all. How could he keep this from him? How could he keep them apart? This was his sister they were talking about, his twin! He had been lied to his entire life. By telling him that his twin had died he had been made to feel like an outsider at the Academy - the one place where he should have belonged. But then, almost as quickly as those feelings came over him, they passed. His father looked worn and tired. Rung out, like a well-used washrag. But he also looked determined - angry, even - and Vincen realized that his father must be feeling just as angry and conflicted as he was. Maybe even more so. Vincen remembered seeing him on the platform during the attack, surrounded by soldiers, a smoking rifle in his hands, challenging a powerful and terrifying mage. And he had done it to protect him: his son. And now it was revealed that the same man who had taken Andreu’s brother from him had also stolen away his daughter so many years ago, and managed to keep her hidden from everyone... well, the Heralds protect that man, for no one else could. Vincen gulped and nodded.
“So,” Vincen said after a moment. “What now? Are we going after him?”
“Our men are assisting in the investigation and the search for Borden and his agents, but no, I must remain here. Aarmond needs…” the words died on his father’s lips and he closed his eyes, taking another drink of water. “Your cousin finds himself in a difficult position,” he said after a moment. “Ensuring the stability of the Empire is our main concern at the moment. That, and the safety of our family. To that end, you will be going to Casa del Fuego. I want you to begin overseeing our operations there.”
Vincen nodded slowly. He was being sent away again, off to the Lake of Fire this time, instead of the Academy. It made sense, he admitted. Borden was out for blood, and his name was apparently right at the top of the mad Duke’s list. Getting him somewhere safe - somewhere that was hard to get to and surrounded by hundreds of loyal Canto men was the only logical thing to do. It also made sense that his father would stay at the palace and assist Aarmond. Andreu was next in the line of succession should anything happen to Aarmond, now that everyone else was… Vincen took a drink of water.
Everything had changed so quickly, so dramatically and terribly. Domenic was supposed to be King. He had always been the serious one, the responsible one who dedicated himself to his studies and accepted responsibility. Vincen had hardly known him. When he had visited the palace as a child, before the Academy, he had spent all his time playing with Aarmond, who was not only closer to his own age but also shared the same temperament. He and Aarmond would run through the halls and climb the trees in the gardens while Domenic was locked inside with his tutors or shadowing his father. Vincen vaguely remembered feeling sorry for him, though he had felt more glad that he and Aarmond were not expected to share in his fate. Let someone else be the King - they were the spares. He and Aarmond – they were free.
That had been a very childish way of thinking, of course. As Vincen grew he soon found himself surrounded by tutors before eventually being sent off to the Academy. But even as he learned he would one day become a duke he never really considered just what that position meant. The province of Selise was as large as many countries, and was one among dozens of other such provinces in the Empire. He would almost be a king in his own right, expected to govern his lands and keep them and his people healthy and productive, for the good of the Empire. It was an enormous responsibility, and one he was just beginning to realize. Perhaps his father was right in that the Mage’s Academy had not done enough to prepare him for his future role.
He shook his head and sighed as he finished off his glass of water and set it aside. He was a mage, and nothing would ever change that, not even becoming a duke. And mages didn't get sent off to the middle of nowhere to be kept safe. They were supposed to be the protectors. They were the front line, the chosen few who were expected to use their Skills and knowledge to keep the Empire secure. And weren’t dukes expected to protect their people? His family had been attacked, his country threatened. Was he supposed to just run off and hide, managing shipments and balancing accounts while others hunted down the murderous traitor who had ruined his family and brought pain to so many others?
“You are not to pursue Borden,” Andreu said and Vincen looked up, meeting his father’s eyes. His father must have recognized the look of determination that had settled across Vincen’s face because he was looking at Vincen with a look of his own, one Vincen knew well: firm, but not unkind. He also knew that trying to argue would be pointless.
“But father,” he found himself saying anyway. “I’m a m…”
“You are my son, and the future Duke of Selise. You are not a soldier, and I will not risk you to revenge.”
“That man deserves to die for what he has done.”
“That justice belongs to the King alone. His claim is stronger than yours, anyway.”
“He killed my sister.”
“And my brother, and my nephew, and a dozen others, noble and common alike.” Andreu’s voice was becoming firm, his gaze growing stern. Vincen was pushing it, he knew, but still… he wasn’t about to go off and hide with his tail between his legs. He wasn’t a little boy anymore. He wasn’t some powerless single-born of low birth. He was the son of a prince, and a mage. He had the power and means to seek justice. Everyone was always telling him to take more control of his life, to rise to his position and rank, to act the part of a duke. Well, what better time than now?
Before Vincen could say anything else, however, Andreu stood and turned away with a sigh, folding his hands behind his back as was his habit. Vincen frowned and pushed the blankets aside, his aching head and sore body reminding him that he really had almost died only a few short days ago. His father was stubborn and steadfast, and Vincen felt like he had gotten a healthy dose of that stubbornness himself, though he had rarely needed to apply it to anything more than a difficult sparring session or tricky exam paper. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and started looking around for a pair of slippers, or at least some socks. He was growing restless, but the stone floor was cold against his bare feet. He needed some pants, too, for that matter.
“I feel as though I have lost her twice,” Andreu said softly, his back still turned. Vincen stopped searching the small room and looked at his father, who slowly turned back to face Vincen again. His face was no longer stern, but had gone back to how it looked when Vincen had first awakened - drawn and haggard - and Vincen suddenly felt foolish. He was being petty and selfish, and he knew it. “They never even let me see her. It wouldn’t have been proper, they said.” He scoffed and closed his eyes briefly, weariness and anger weighing heavily on him. “And that is how they stole her from me. From us. And now we know the truth, and she has been stolen away again.”
Vincen closed his eyes and felt a pang of guilt. He knew his father must be having at least as difficult a time with all this as he was, if not more. Vincen could still see Rayna, as could Kelso and Alba. They could speak with her, get to know her and understand her and build a relationship with her. But his father? There would always be a divide there, a distance that could not be crossed. He now had some idea of how Ona’s parents felt, and why their pain weighed on Alba so heavily. A small noise from above caused Vincen to glance up and he saw Rayna floating there, tucked in a corner of the ceiling, her knees pulled up to her chest. She was crying, he thought. He caught her eyes and she sniffed, then quickly wiped away the tears that hadn’t yet turned to dust before drifting back through the wall and out of the room.
“I will not lose you too,” Andreu said, stepping forward and placing a hand on Vincen’s shoulder. “This order to the Fire Lake does not come only from me, but from the King as well. We need you there, son. And not just for your safety. There are things that must be seen to, and quickly. Come, let’s get you dressed. Your cousin requests your presence.”
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Vincen stopped in front of the large double doors to the King’s study, his hands clasped behind his back. He’d been doing that a lot recently, it seemed: standing in front of doors. He wondered if this was going to be a new aspect of his daily life - waiting for others to open doors for him - and what that said about his new role in society. He glanced at his father, who was standing next to him, hands clasped behind his back just as Vincen’s were. The irony did not escape him, particularly since they were both dressed in the same formal white uniform, with freshly shaved faces, oiled hair, and black bands of mourning draped across their jackets in place of the usual red sash. Alexander and Kelso were with them, looking as sharp as always in their Canto livery, despite the crisp white sling supporting Kelso’s left arm and the bruising on his face. Vincen had tried to make Kelso remain in his room to rest, but as soon as Kelso had learned that Vincen would be speaking with the King nothing either Vincen or Alexander could say would make him stay behind.
Andreu gave Alexander a nod, and the valet stepped forward and spoke quietly with one of the door guards, who turned and opened the door a little, speaking with another guard just inside the study. A moment later the doors swung open and the guards stepped aside. Prince Andreu confidently strode forward, and Vincen stumbled slightly as he hurried to match step with his father.
The room was smaller than Vincen remembered, though the last time he was in the room he had only been six years old. The room was certainly grand, but had a cozy and well-used feel to it. The floor was made of a rich, dark hardwood polished to a shine that highlighted the intricate waves of the woodgrain, and a thick red carpet ran down the middle of the room. Tall bookshelves on either side of the room reached up to the high ceilings and a stone fireplace dominated the back wall, with a large desk set in front of it. Aarmond sat at the desk in a worn but comfortable looking overstuffed chair, with papers and folios scattered across the surface. He looked up as they entered and stood, a tired smile forming as he walked around the desk and stepped forward to greet them.
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“Uncle, Vincen, welcome,” he said, reaching out and grasping Vincen’s hand and clapping him on the shoulder. Vincen winced as a stab of pain shot down his arm, wiping the grin off his face. How was it that his entire body hurt so much? He kept discovering new injuries in the most unlikely of places, most of which he didn’t remember receiving. Beside him, Andreu and Alexander both gave the King a quick bow, their right fists clasped to their chests. Vincen saw his father shoot him a quick glare, and Vincen stopped himself from punching Aarmond’s shoulder as payback, and instead took a half-step back and gave his cousin - now his King - a bow as well. It was a far less regal bow than he would normally give, but they were all family here, and the meeting was an informal one, but it still felt weird to Vincen. This was Aarmond, his cousin. They were practically brothers.
“Enough of that,” Aarmond said, waving off their bows and gesturing to a small seating area tucked into a darkened corner of the room, close enough to the fireplace to be comfortable but out of the way enough that Vincen hadn’t even noticed it at first. Andreu stood straight and nodded at Aarmond, a small grimace hidden behind his stoic expression and tired eyes. Even now, with all they’d been through, his father still expected perfect decorum. Vincen wanted to roll his eyes. His cousin had to be the King for everyone else, couldn’t he just be Aarmond when it was only them? Especially with all they had just been through?
“Your Majesty,” Andreu said as they followed Aarmond over to the sitting area. “As you can see, Vincen has finally awakened, and so we have come as requested.”
“Thank you, Uncle,” he said as he collapsed into the largest of the overstuffed leather armchairs, draping one leg over the armrest. Vincen wanted to roll his eyes again, but for a different reason this time. He loved his cousin, but every now and then he did some little thing or other that reminded Vincen - and everyone else - that he was, in fact, a prince of the most powerful empire in the world, and that no matter how powerful and high-ranking Vincen was, his own power was nothing compared to Aarmond’s. And now that Aarmond was King, well… everything was changing, and Vincen was only now beginning to realize just what that meant.
A servant appeared out of nowhere with tea for Aarmond and coffee for his father, and before Vincen even realized what was happening Kelso stepped over to the servant and whispered in his ear, undoubtedly instructing the man on what to prepare for Vincen. The servant nodded and disappeared again as another young man stepped forward, adding the sugar and milk to Aarmond’s tea and handing it to him before turning his attention to Andreu’s coffee. Vincen was struck by the quiet efficiency of it all. How did these servants even know what tea his father liked?
Aarmond sipped at his drink and sighed, and Vincen looked over at his cousin, noticing just how worn-out he seemed. Even in this dark corner, Vincen could see the bags under his eyes and the wrinkles in his normally impeccable attire. He had the same weariness about him that his father had, and Vincen felt his stomach knotting up. He couldn’t imagine what Aarmond must be going through.
“You really had us worried there for a bit, Vince,” Aarmond said, un-draping his leg from the chair and sitting up properly.
Vincen snorted, mostly to himself, then realized that was probably exactly the wrong thing to do. “Yeah,” he said, trying to ignore his father’s less-than-subtle eye roll in his direction. “I may have gotten in a bit over my head there. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Aarmond said, leaning forward and giving him a look that Vincen couldn’t quite read. “But don’t do it again, either. You’re third in line, if Borden manages to get to me and your father. The Empire needs you, don’t ever forget that.”
Vincen wanted to scream, but instead just nodded. He couldn't get away from the lectures, from the people telling him how to live his life. Even his cousin, his brother-in-arms and mischief, the same cousin who had egged him on to levitate Galina’s veil during her wedding vows. Couldn’t they understand? He was a mage, not some puffed-shirt noble with an army of servants to see to his every need. He was supposed to leap into the fray, not hide in the shadows.
“Now,” Aarmond said, leaning back in his chair with another sigh and a subtle glance at Vincen’s father that Vincen probably wasn’t supposed to notice. “That being said, I’m really glad that you did. You realized what was happening before anyone else. Before any of our other mages or guards. You and Kelso probably saved dozens of lives, mine included.”
“I don’t know about that…” Vincen said, but, shockingly, it was his father who interjected.
“Aarmond is correct,” Andreu said, leaning forward and setting his cup on the table between their seats. “The two of you, and Lady Alba, were able to distract Borden and his mages long enough for me to rally the guards. Borden played his hand well, I am loath to admit. You bought us time, and in situations such as these, every second matters.”
Vincen cringed. He didn't feel like a hero. He felt like a fool. He had rushed in without thinking - again - and had not only failed to save the King and Queen but had also managed to get both Kelso and Alba hurt. For his father, of all people, to be praising him after such a massive failure… well, he was so used to being scolded for his actions that praise was nearly a foreign concept to him. He couldn’t think of anything proper to say in response, so he did the same thing he always did and said something stupid instead.
“Uuuhm… Thank you?” he said awkwardly just as the servant returned with his tea, setting the tray on the table in front of him. Kelso stepped forward and bent down to start preparing his tea, and suddenly it was all too much for Vincen. “No, Kelso, please, just… let me, okay?” he said, putting his hand up and leaning forward and grabbing the pitcher of cream off the tray before Kelso could reach for it with his good arm. There was no way he could just sit there in reasonably good health and let his friend with a shattered arm prepare his tea for him, especially since it was his fault he was injured in the first place.
Kelso hesitated, then reluctantly stepped back. Vincen saw Alexander raise an eyebrow, a slight frown forming even as he gave Kelso a little wave indicating it was okay for him to stand down. Vincen poured the cream into his tea, his cheeks growing warm as his anger and frustration rose in unison. If they wouldn’t let him go after Borden, at least he could try and make things easier on his friend. He didn’t care if it wasn’t “proper”.
Aarmond and his father shared a glance as Vincen stirred the sugar into his tea. He dropped the spoon onto the tray and leaned back, frowning as he watched the steam waft from the little cup. They were about to tell him why he was going to the Lake of Fire, he was sure. They had wanted to butter him up first before sending him off to hide like a little kid or a woman. “Alba and Ona have been sent north already?” he asked, still watching the steam rising from his cup.
“Yes,” his father answered. “Just this morning. They left with the funeral procession. The Marquess wanted them as far from the capital as possible. I do not blame him. Tensions are high, and the city is on edge. The riots Borden incited have been brewing for years, if not decades. He did not invent these problems, he merely stirred a pot that was already primed to boil over.”
Aarmond nodded. “I’ve heard a lot of concerns these last couple of years, as Father sent me around the Empire. There are many who feel Albaron has been growing too quickly, and that we’re not taking enough concern for the people who we bring into the fold. Many of the colonies, especially those on the other side of the narrow sea, hardly consider themselves a part of the Empire at all and actively oppose our rule.”
“Did you know he was a mage?” Vincen asked, looking up from his tea cup and changing the subject. He had heard of the discontent in the Empire while at school. He had listened with interest as his commoner friends cursed the King’s expansionist policies and railed against the high taxes and travel restrictions enforced on newly conquered countries. Many of his classmates were from some of those newer regions and were among the first generation of mages expected to devote themselves to the service of their new King. He had found it fascinating as they described how mages lived in their home countries, and often caught himself daydreaming about what sounded like a much simpler way of life. He didn’t think his father, or even Aarmond, would understand that he was somewhat sympathetic to their grievances, even though he didn’t really see any other way to deal with the problems than what they were already doing.
Aarmond shook his head. “No, he caught us all completely by surprise. How he managed to hide the fact for so long is still a mystery. Though, we undoubtedly made it easier for him by exiling his family to Villamont and then basically ignoring them for so long.”
“What did they do?” Vincen asked. “Why did you send them north?”
His father answered with a frown. “There were many reasons, most of which we will not be discussing today. Suffice to say that the previous Duke of Selise was inadequate to the task.”
Aarmond scoffed. “He was spreading sedition and building a coalition against my father. He was one step away from open rebellion.”
Prince Andreu shot Aarmond a glare. “It was much more complicated than that, though Oriol failed to see it that way. Regardless, we had to isolate him in a way that would not alarm the other houses too badly, yet still keep him from doing any more harm. Villamont seemed a reasonable compromise at the time.”
“So he blames us for his father’s mistakes. Great.”
“It’s more than that,” his father said, sighing and absently holding up his tea cup, which Alexander dutifully stepped forward to refill. “The Borden’s are an old family. They were here before Albaron grew into the Empire it is today. This, of itself, is not uncommon. Many of the nobility have very old roots in this land. The Borden’s however, have never truly considered themselves a part of the Empire. They stubbornly hold to the old ways of the Plainsmen, refusing to adapt to modern conventions and often actively undermining industrial progress and imperial rule.”
Vincen nodded, taking a sip of his rapidly cooling tea and remembering some of the rhetoric Borden had been spewing during his massacre. He had thought it odd that a nobleman of his stature would be so openly religious. His father and a few others he knew would make the occasional polite concession to the Master, though these were usually few and far between. Even at the Academy references to religion were generally reserved for history and philosophy classes, both of which Vincen had avoided as much as possible. He vaguely remembered a large, beautiful, and very old copy of the Master’s Book in his father’s office at their family estate just outside of Savaria, though he could not recall having ever seen it opened. Vincen sighed. “So it’s vendetta, then. When Uncle Oriol took away their land and exiled them north, it gave them the excuse they needed to start the old wars over again.” He drained his tea, regretting having let it get cold, then set the cup aside, waving off Kelso who had begun to step forward again. He frowned. “But why wait so long? Why now? And what’s Rayna got to do with any of this? Why kidnap her? What did it gain him? And how did he manage to pull that off, anyway?” And where had Rayna gotten to? He hadn’t seen her since her brief appearance in his room earlier.
His father and Aarmond exchanged another glance, and Aarmond smiled, a glint in his eye. Vincen frowned. He was getting a little tired of the knowing looks the two of them kept sharing. It was like he was getting left out of some grand scheme or something.
“Those are all questions we need answered,” his father said. “A few of them I can deduce, based on what I know of the man. The issue of your sister, for example, was most likely born from spite. We took something important from him and so he took something important from us. Honestly, though, my gut tells me his true purpose was, and still is, far more sinister. Gabriel was always a subtle creature, even as a youth.”
“He just murdered over a dozen people, including the King and his heir. Seems sinister enough already.”
“Yes, but to what end?” Aarmond asked, leaning forward and waving off the attendant who stepped forward to fill his cup. “He could never take the throne for himself, so what’s his ploy? What’s his endgame? Does he simply wish to destabilize the throne or does he have some other objective? That’s what we need you to look into for us.”
“Me?” Vincen asked, blinking in surprise.
“Yep,” Aarmond said, grinning as he settled back in his chair, casually folding his arms. “Uncle already told you where I’m sending you, I’m sure. It’s an obvious target, if Borden really is trying to throw the Empire into chaos, like we think he is. The Lake has been at the center of our industry for over twenty years now, and has all the best communication gear, and some damn smart mereologists to keep it all running. What they don’t have is a mage, not one like you, anyway. You fought with him, you know what he can do. Make sure they’re ready when he comes.”
“Uuuhhhh… what?” Vincen said, knowing that he sounded and looked foolish. This was not what he’d been expecting. “But I’ve never done anything like that before. I’m not a soldier, I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
“You underestimate yourself, cousin. But you’re right, you’re not a soldier. That’s why Nahuel’s going with you.”
The halberdier in question chose that moment to step out of whatever shadow he’d been hiding in, and Vincen jerked his head up and stared at the large man, who folded his arms and glared at Vincen. Not with the strange, soul-shredding glare that Vincen hoped to never again experience, but with a regular “I hate this idea as much as you do” glare.
“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Aarmond said, smirking at the look on Vincen’s face. “I’m sure the two of you will get along great.”
Vincen sighed. He knew there had to be a catch, and it was a doozy. There was no way that they would send him off on his own, and they had arranged for the best babysitter they could manage. He was certain that sending Nahuel along was Aarmond’s idea, and now that Aarmond was King it was going to be much more difficult for Vincen to find a way to get back at him for it. Nahuel scowled, then glanced at a spot behind Vincen, above his shoulder. The halberdier furrowed his brow, then reached into his breast pocket. He pulled out a small, rectangular wooden box and knelt down, handing the box to Aarmond and nodding toward Vincen.
“I’m pretty sure I hate that man,” said a girl’s voice from behind Vincen. He jumped and twisted around in his seat to see Rayna floating a few feet behind him, frowning at Nahuel. She looked at Vincen and smirked, and he realized he was gripping the arms of his chair hard enough that there would probably be fingernail marks left behind. She shook her head and drifted up and toward him, settling down to sit on the back of the chair, her feet on the arm rest. “Isn’t your girlfriend a shade? I thought you’d be used to them by now.” she said, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees, grinning down at him.
“I… I am,” he said, relaxing even as the heat of embarrassment rose in his cheeks.
“By the Heralds, she looks just like you,” Aarmond said softly, and Vincen turned back to his cousin, confused. The box Nahuel had handed him was sitting open on the arm of his chair, and he was staring slack-jawed at Rayana through a pair of ruby-tinted spectacles. Vincen frowned. Could his cousin somehow see Rayna? It sure seemed that way.
“I thought they had all been lost…” Prince Andreu said, staring at Aarmond, his voice quiet, almost reverent. Now Vincen was truly confused.
Aarmond slowly stood, his eyes still on Rayna, who fidgeted uncomfortably, floating down from her perch on the chair to stand by Vincen.
“He can see me, right?” she asked Vincen, still looking at Aarmond with uncertainty.
“Yeah, I think so,” Vincen said, glancing between Aarmond and his father, his brow furrowed.
“Yes,” Aarmond said, taking a slow step forward, his hand twitching as if to reach for Rayna. “I can see her… you. I can see you. But I can’t hear you.” He glanced at Vincen’s father and grimaced apologetically. “One of our officers found these at an abandoned monastery on the front. His squad was overnighting there and he just… stumbled upon them.”
Andreu stood, his composure from earlier having vanished. “Had Oriol been wearing those…”
“Yeah,” Aarmond sighed, shaking his head and removing the spectacles. He held them out to Andreu, who took them carefully in both hands. He stared at them for a moment, his hands shaking slightly, then took a breath and put them on.
“What’s happening?” Rayna asked, nervously backing away.
Andreu turned, slowly, and he drew in a breath as he saw Rayna. Vincen watched, stunned, as the two stared at each other for what felt like minutes, neither one moving.
Eventually Rayna broke the stalemate, drifting forward with silver tears filling her eyes. “Fa…” she whispered, her voice cracking. She shook her head, blinking fiercely as her tears dripped into dust. She cleared her throat. “Father?” she choked out, then reached toward Andreu, who nodded and stepped forward, smiling softly as he held back tears. He held out an arm toward his daughter. Rayna let out a slow, shuddering breath, then drifted forward and slowly - carefully - wrapped her arms around Andreu. He returned the embrace as best he could, and Vincen realized there were tears in his own eyes.
Vincen felt a hand on his shoulder, and he somehow managed to keep from jumping out of his skin this time.
“Come on, Vince,” Aarmond said softly. “Let’s leave them alone for a bit, shall we?”
End of Chapter Twelve