Indenuel’s heart sank. He tried not to let his mind immediately go to the worst-case scenario, but it still went straight to what Andres and Lola did to him.
“Did the servants offer baths to the children tonight?” Indenuel asked.
“Yes, sir. Isla and Emilia agreed. Matteo did not,” Pablo said.
Indenuel rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the wall, trying desperately not to make it seem like he was planning anything. “Offer it again to Matteo. And this time tell him no servants will be in the room with him. He might be embarrassed about his growing body.”
“At once, sir,” Pablo said.
“Report to me his answer. And when the girls are decent, I’d like to check and make sure they are ready for the night,” Indenuel said.
“There should be a woman servant outside their door once they are finished with their baths and are clothed, sir.”
“Thank you.”
Pablo left. Indenuel waited, staring at the wall as thoughts formed in his head.
“Everything all right?” Tolomon asked, appearing at his side.
“Fine, fine. Just making sure my guests are settled,” Indenuel said, trying to smile.
“Do you need me to alert the guards about Andres and Lola? Are either one of them tree talkers?” Tolomon asked.
“No. Andres is the town healer, and Lola is a weather controller. But they would certainly find a tree talker if they were lost from the carriage,” Indenuel said.
A woman walked out of the girl’s guest room, and Indenuel headed over there. She bowed as Indenuel walked inside. Tolomon stayed right outside. Emilia and Isla sat up in bed, chatting away.
“Indenuel!” they both screamed when he walked in. They ran to him, and he grabbed them both, spinning them around in a hug.
“Do you love it here?” Indenuel asked as he set them both down.
“Yes! Yes!” Isla said.
“I want to stay here forever!” Emilia said.
Indenuel’s heart lightened. “I want you to, Emilia.”
“But you need to save Santollia?” Isla asked.
“That’s right.”
“Andres said you’re going to fail,” Emilia said.
Indenuel refused to let that bother him. “Andres never had much faith in me. But we’ll prove him wrong.” Isla and Emilia giggled like conspirators. “Have Andres and Lola treated you well?”
“Oh yes. They always say they are,” Isla said.
Indenuel noticed the strange wording right off. “They say they are, but do you think they are?”
Emilia frowned. “Andres screams a lot. A lot more than Lola. I’m glad we don’t see too much of him.”
“And Matteo? Does he talk a lot with you two?” Indenuel asked.
Isla shrugged. “Lola said Matteo doesn’t want to talk, and we need to leave him alone.”
Emilia yawned before reaching up toward Indenuel. He picked her up and placed her in bed. “Now, you two get some sleep.”
“Are we going to Grandami Sara’s house tomorrow?” Isla asked.
“Yes. Tomorrow and the next day and the next,” Indenuel said. Isla was beside herself with joy. Emilia would have done the same, except she was so tired. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow you’ll have a big breakfast.”
“We’re going to be as fat as nobles when we leave for home,” Isla said.
“I never want to go home,” Emilia said as she drifted off.
“Have you both said your prayers?” Indenuel asked.
The girls nodded. “The servants helped us,” Isla said as Emilia began to breathe heavily.
Indenuel kissed Emilia’s forehead as the dread grew in his stomach. He settled Isla down before kissing her forehead. “Don’t keep your sister up.”
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Isla nodded, settling into the bed. “This is the softest bed I’ve ever slept in.”
He moved some of her hair away from her face. “You deserve it.”
Isla smiled as she closed her eyes. Indenuel walked out to see Pablo. “You were right, sir. He simply needed to take a bath with no one there. We have been instructed not to come in until he is dressed and in bed.”
Indenuel nodded. “Thank you. No matter how late it is, let me know when Andres and Lola come home. That will be all.”
Pablo bowed again. “Of course, sir.”
Indenuel walked toward his room as Tolomon followed. They were silent the whole trip. Tolomon was exhausted. So exhausted he was stifling yawns.
“You should go to bed,” Indenuel said.
“I’m sorry, I should be-”
“Give your body a break. You just went through an experience very few live through. A half dozen guards are still surrounding our house. I’m going to be fine,” Indenuel said.
Tolomon didn’t put up much of a fight, which was another indication of how exhausted he must have been. Indenuel walked into his room as Tolomon went through the door to the room next to it. Indenuel didn’t climb into bed. Instead, he stood in the center, staring at the wall. All the thoughts he chose to ignore came to him. If Andres and Lola had mistreated the children, he deserved to know.
He tiptoed out of his room, hardly breathing as he looked through the crack into Tolomon’s room. He was already asleep. It was better this way.
He crept through the mostly quiet house. He nodded at a few of the servants still cleaning up. There was a servant at Matteo’s door, waiting patiently outside. Indenuel placed a finger to his lips and motioned the servant away. The servant bowed and shuffled off. He grabbed the doorknob, knowing this was a violation of Matteo’s privacy, but he was afraid the boy wouldn’t give him straight answers.
He cracked the door open, and Matteo was in the tub, the back of his head to the door, simply sitting there, eyes closed, relaxing. Indenuel’s breath was shallow, but it still sounded way too loud. He simply waited, trying to see if there was any bruising. Matteo had his forearms around the rim of the bath. There was nothing out of the ordinary there.
Matteo sat up tenderly, exposing angry red welts in various stages of healing on his back, enflamed, bleeding, scabs ripped open. Indenuel’s hand tightened over the doorknob, and he forced himself to stop breathing so he wouldn’t gasp. He closed the door again, covering his mouth as he moved far enough away to breathe without Matteo hearing. He grabbed the edge of the banister with one hand, slowly twisting his hand around it, glaring at the floor as he let out a gasp that sounded more like a sob. A growing power surged, causing his wrists to itch. He knew it! He knew Andres and Lola were nothing but snakes!
You can’t know for sure. You can’t immediately blame them. You need to know from Matteo’s own words who did it. Don’t react out of anger. The voice was soft, quiet, and definitely not his own. He couldn’t identify it, but he needed to listen to it. If he reacted badly toward Andres and Lola, and they weren’t the culprits, it could lead to serious problems.
Who else could have done it? another voice asked.
Indenuel added his other hand to the banister, wringing it continually to get him to calm his nerves, trying to make the itch go away. He couldn’t talk to Matteo in anger. The boy was not the one to blame. He didn’t want to scare him.
Once the itching went away, he walked over to the door and knocked. He was still angry, but not dangerous. “Matteo? It’s me.”
There was a slosh of water. “Just a moment.” Matteo’s voice sounded small. Indenuel waited at the door, waited as he tried not to imagine Andres or Lola doing this to him. Even remembering Andres’ face brought the itching back. He folded his arms, trying to massage his wrists. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm down. On the other side he heard Matteo hastily getting dressed.
The door opened and Indenuel opened his eyes, trying to smile. “I’m so sorry, Matteo. I didn’t mean to cut your bath short.”
The boy shrugged, stepping aside to let him in. Matteo was in his night clothes, but also had a heavy blanket around his shoulders.
“Are you cold?” Indenuel asked. Matteo gave a non-committal shrug. Indenuel looked at the boy, drowning in the huge blanket he used to cover his back. He didn’t even know how to begin the conversation. “Do you like it here?” Matteo nodded. Indenuel tried not to let the lack of words stop him. Even if Matteo said nothing, he was already determined to get the answers from Andres and Lola.
Indenuel waited for Matteo to say something, but he didn’t.
“Is everything all right?”
Matteo nodded even before he finished. The boy wasn’t going to speak. He would not condemn his abusers. It was to his suspected abusers Indenuel had to ask, and he had to go with a calm mind, or he would do something he would regret.
“Come, get some sleep. You must be exhausted.” Matteo hesitated before heading for the bed. “Have you said your prayers?”
Matteo shook his head as he knelt beside his bed. Indenuel sat at the edge, folding his arms, smiling encouragingly before they both closed their eyes.
“May God look down on us in mercy, may He fill us with His light. May we remember He knows our journey, and may it be a comfort in the night.”
“God be with us,” Indenuel forced himself to say. The itching came back. The prayers he failed to say himself since he learned the truth in the High Elder’s library made him angry again as he thought of Matteo, with marks on his back, saying rote prayers to gain comfort from a dead God.
Indenuel moved off the bed as Matteo climbed in, making sure the blanket stayed protectively over his back.
“Long day?” Indenuel asked. Matteo closed his eyes, nodding. “I’ve been training with Martin. I can calm your mind to help you go to sleep if you want.”
He nodded again before pausing, looking at Indenuel. “Just my mind?”
He nodded. “Just your mind.” Indenuel reached out, touching the boy’s temples with his two fingers. He felt the jumble of nerves, and filled it with calming energy, much of which he needed himself. He waited patiently as Matteo’s mind calmed down. The anxious worry in his face relaxed. Indenuel continued to feed Matteo’s mind, waiting.
The second he heard the boy’s breathing turn heavy, he reached out and healed Matteo’s back. He made the wounds close, healed the welts, helped the blood vessels heal from the bruises on his thighs. Healing him helped make the itching go away.
Indenuel opened his eyes, a tear threatening to fall. The anxious furrow of the brow always present in Matteo’s face today was gone. He looked peaceful. Indenuel rubbed his own face, a shuttering breath escaping him before he leaned down and kissed Matteo’s forehead. He stood up, tiptoeing out of the room.
“Sir?” a servant asked.
“He is asleep. Clear the bath as quietly as you can,” Indenuel said, trying to hide his emotions.
The servants nodded before walking inside. Indenuel tried to keep his face impossible to read as he made his way to his room.