Indenuel was indeed glad he hadn’t eaten in what felt like two days. Sara looked more than willing to oblige his hunger, and the more he ate, the more content she acted.
Ana finished telling a joke everyone chuckled at. There was an air of unease some of the children thankfully didn’t notice, and Ana easily defused it.
Once Adrian, Tomas, and the twins finished and were excused from the table, Tolomon made another one of his jokes just for Rosa. Indenuel watched as Rosa smiled brightly at her plate.
Tolomon picked up his fork and knife, smiling at Matteo. “I have to say, Matteo, you are impossibly quiet. Not many are able to sneak around without me noticing them. You must have had some practice being that quiet.”
Matteo glanced up from his plate, looking terrified as he took in Tolomon’s bulging muscles before looking back down at his food. “Yes. Sir. Yessir.”
“Oh, no, Matteo. You will be off to school under the guardianship of the King and Queen themselves. You don’t need to call me sir,” Tolomon said.
“Yes, sir. Yes.” Matteo cleared his throat. “Yes.”
Tolomon smiled. “I heard you’re nervous for school.”
Matteo froze in his attempt to skewer a potato, though he slowly raised his face, fearful. Indenuel slowed down his chewing. The only time Matteo mentioned he was nervous for school was in the nursery.
“I have your footfall down now. I don’t intend to make the same mistake again. I love that book, by the way.” Tolomon scooped some rice into his spoon with his knife before smiling at Matteo. “The Flight, by Adem Wessler? The Zimoran?” Tolomon ate what was on his spoon before he swallowed, then turned his gaze on Indenuel, who could almost feel the color draining from his face.
“Ah yes. About a little Zimoran boy learning how to fly,” Martin said. “Wonderful little fairy tale.”
“Now, if my memory serves, isn’t there a part where the little boy flies off and punches the villain in the face?” Tolomon asked.
“That is true, yes,” Martin said.
Indenuel did not realize how much his chest was heaving until Tolomon smiled far too sweetly at him, and he forced himself not to reveal anything on his face. Next to Martin, Matteo sank into his chair.
“I will admit punching someone in the face is different from killing,” Tolomon said, taking another bite.
Indenuel stood up as his heart dropped into his stomach, his chair scraping against the floor. “Tolomon, a word in private, if you will.”
“Of course. Would you like to have this conversation right over there in the corner?” Tolomon asked.
Indenuel did everything in his power to keep his face neutral as he walked toward the door. “Now.”
Tolomon shrugged then stood up. Indenuel grabbed his elbow, forcing him out of the room. They left the dining hall and took a few steps into the entryway.
“The children were screaming and shrieking. How the hell did you hear anything?” Indenuel asked.
Tolomon took a serious tone. “It would benefit you greatly to remember how well Graduates are trained.”
“Swear to me you will never tell,” Indenuel said through a clenched jaw.
Tolomon gave him a humorous look. “Really, Indenuel? Are you certain you want to do that?”
“I’m-” Indenuel stopped speaking as a servant walked by. Tolomon smiled at the servant as Indenuel closed his eyes, doing everything in his power to not lash out. “Swear it.”
“What, exactly? I’m not even sure what you’re talking about,” Tolomon said.
“Don’t play this game with me right now,” Indenuel said.
“Oh, I intend to play,” Tolomon said. “I will promise you to keep your secret, because you are in the highest social class, and I’m simply a Graduate of the Common Class. But this is what I warned you about. I will wear you down until you consider confession a blessing. Though I did not expect it to be for this.” His face turned deadly serious. “You’ve used corruptive powers to murder. You can only be completely healed through confession.”
Indenuel found himself glancing around to make sure none of the servants were near. “Swear it, Tolomon.”
He sighed, then shook his head. “Should my lips betray the secret, may my title as Graduate be revoked and my life end.”
Indenuel nodded. He about headed back to the dining room when Tolomon grabbed his arm. “My personal best is a single meal. Let’s see how long you last.”
“Just promise me this. This, right here-” Indenuel motioned between him and Tolomon “-is strictly between me and you. Leave Matteo out of this, or I will never forgive you.”
Tolomon smirked. “Of course not. I’d never mentally break a child. There are lines I refuse to cross.”
Indenuel shook his head before turning, heading back into the dining hall. He sat down next to Adosina, giving her a smile before he gave Matteo a pat on the shoulder. The boy looked like he was going to vomit. All the other children had left from the table.
“Everything alright?” Martin asked.
“Yes,” Indenuel said.
“No,” Tolomon said at the same time.
Martin frowned, glancing between the two. “You sure?”
“Yes,” Indenuel said.
“No,” Tolomon said, again at the same time.
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Indenuel picked up his wine glass and took a drink through a stiff lip. Alright, Tolomon was willing to play. “So, Rosa, how is Nathaniel?”
If this bothered Tolomon, he didn’t show it.
“Oh, he is doing just fine,” Rosa said with a smile. “His troops, as he expected, exceeded his expectations. They’ve already finished their first battle together. Nathaniel says they all made it out without a scratch, but he always says that to me, so I won’t worry.”
“What a kind, considerate man your husband is,” Indenuel said.
“Mmm,” Tolomon said, swallowing another bite of rice. “Far too trusting of people, that Nathaniel. Everyone needs a healthy amount of skepticism towards their fellow man. Wouldn’t you agree, High Elder Martin?”
Martin looked up from his plate, giving Tolomon a curious look as to why he was involved in this conversation. “I suppose.”
“Why the gloves, Indenuel?” Tolomon said, hardly looking at them.
Indenuel’s smile was stiff. “I saw someone else in court wearing them and thought they were fashionable.”
“Oh really? You told me it’s because you were cold,” Tolomon said.
“I was simply embarrassed to admit I wanted to try out an unusual fashion choice,” Indenuel said, mentally creating a list of lies he needed to remember.
Matteo placed his fork down, his eyes wide.
“Ah, I see. You are from Mountain Pass where they get cold during the winter, so of course you’d lie about the weather in your embarrassment. Can you even tell the temperature dropped here in Santollia City?” Tolomon’s eyes never left Indenuel’s as he kept eating his dinner. It was unnerving, but he tried not to let it get to him. “So, if the gloves are such a fashion choice, why the two shirts?”
“An accident,” Indenuel said. He was aware the room grew quiet, and all the guests at the table watched this verbal exchange with confusion. “I have, after all, been on edge the past couple days.”
“Mmm,” Tolomon said before swallowing more rice. “Now, it seems to me this fashion choice you’ve made with the gloves doesn’t extend toward dinner. You should take them off.”
“I am not going to-”
“Look how you can hardly hold your fork. And is that… what is that on there? Why, I do believe that’s blood. Are your hands bleeding?” Tolomon asked with mock concern without even looking at the gloves.
It took every ounce of will power to keep his face neutral. He saw out of the corner of his eyes Matteo sinking down so far in his chair that only the top of his curly blonde head was visible. Martin stared at the two of them with increased confusion. When Tolomon mentioned the blood, every gaze went to Indenuel’s black gloves, meaning everyone saw how clenched his fists were.
“Indenuel…” Martin asked quietly.
Tolomon gave Indenuel another mocking look of concern. His mind flipped through another plausible list of lies as he narrowed his eyes.
Matteo’s chair toppled over as he stood. “Martin, sir, can I be excused?”
“Of course. Are you alright?” Martin asked.
“Nervous. Nerves. I’m nervous. For school. I… I need to go,” Matteo said before fleeing from the table. Indenuel broke his gaze from Tolomon enough to watch Matteo sprint out the door.
Sara stood, concerned. “I’ll go check on him. He might need some ginger tea.”
Martin nodded as Sara left. Indenuel hoped that was the end of the conversation, but Martin placed a hand on Indenuel’s gloved one, and he instinctively pulled it back. “Are you alright, my boy?”
Indenuel sighed, before dropping his hands below the table and taking off the gloves. Adosina gasped, since she was next to him and saw his hands first. Indenuel lifted his hands to eat his dinner, doing everything possible not to react to the quiet gasps of the people around the table. There was dried blood on his hands and the bruises, though healing, didn’t look good.
“What happened?” Martin asked.
Indenuel dared to shoot Tolomon a glare before facing Martin. “I had a nightmare the night Andres and Lola were murdered. I… I don’t remember how it happened, but I was all tangled up in my sheets afterwards.”
“Your wonderfully soft sheets?” Tolomon asked. “Caused bruises and cuts that I’ve more likely seen come from ropes? Or even branch--”
“I don’t know how else it could have got there. It was, after all, incredibly traumatic for me to see Andres and Lola getting dragged to hell, so I don’t remember much else,” Indenuel said, some anger trickling through his words.
“Well, no matter, let me-” Martin reached toward his hands and he instinctively pulled them out of his reach. He gave Indenuel a curious look as Tolomon waited, patient. Slowly, Indenuel slid his hands toward Martin and closed his eyes tightly. Martin covered his hands with his. Indenuel used every last ounce of power in him to move the corruption out of his hands. Martin wouldn’t dare go any farther. He sensed the warmth of the healing power enter his hands, and the corruption in his body turned, curious to go towards it like a moth to flame, but he forced it to keep away.
Martin dropped his grip and Indenuel cracked an eye open to see him smiling, not suspicious at all. “Good as new.”
Indenuel nodded, bringing his hands back, trying to keep the trembling at bay as Sara walked back into the dining hall. Indenuel stuffed the black gloves in his pockets and ventured a look at Adosina. She was busy with her meal. No one looked at him suspiciously. No one wondered. Ana, Rosa, Adosina, and Sara struck up a conversation on the latest book they had read. Inessa was quietly finishing up her dinner.
“Sir, I would humbly offer my services to find the individuals you are looking for if they are needed,” Tolomon said, still staring Indenuel down despite talking with Martin.
“Oh, yes. Well, thank you Tolomon, but I believe protecting Indenuel is where your services will be best spent,” Martin said.
“Indeed, they will be, sir,” Tolomon said. “Sara, Indenuel is still hungry.”
He had almost finished his plate when Sara beamed at him as she motioned to the servants to bring over another plate, which guaranteed him a longer spot that was beginning to be one of his least favorite dinners at Martin’s house. Indenuel glared at Tolomon as he leaned over to test his food before he picked up his fork and stabbed his pork.
“It’s so delicious, Sara,” Indenuel said, glaring darkly at Tolomon, who smiled again, eating a bite of his own pork.
“Thank you, Indenuel,” Sara said.
“Shouldn’t you, too, offer your services Indenuel?” Tolomon asked.
“Oh, no, no, Tolomon,” Martin said. “Not until he is stronger. The situation at Cristoval’s told us enough. Besides, as he’s working hard with his training, he will gain what he needs should he ever face those individuals.”
“Ah, God forbid,” Tolomon said, not blinking, his gaze digging into Indenuel’s skull. Indenuel began eating quicker, knowing as soon as he was finished, they could leave. “I would pity the individuals who ever threatened the lives of Matteo, Emilia, and Isla.”
Indenuel drained his wine glass, refusing to look at Tolomon.
“Ah, yes. You have formed quite the bond with them. They love you dearly,” Martin said.
He gave a pained smile since he didn’t dare talk with food in his mouth as a servant refilled his wine glass.
“An absolutely incredible bond,” Tolomon said, dragging out every syllable before tasting Indenuel’s wine again and giving it back. “In fact, Martin, it seems almost selfish you don’t have him on your team tracking these individuals down. He would do anything to protect these children. And I mean anything. It would almost be laughable to think these individuals would last a week here in the city with him on their case.”
Indenuel swallowed his food. “The individuals have no idea about the children. They are safe.”
“Oh, but is that enough for you?” Tolomon asked. “The Indenuel I know would be tearing this city apart to keep those children safe, even if there was the smallest hint they were in danger. In fact-” Tolomon leaned in closer. “You are letting them slip through your fingers. You are letting them go to school with no idea when they will return.” Indenuel slowly lowered the wine glass, doing everything in his power to keep his breathing normal. “No visits. Not until the individuals are found. You would do anything to make sure they’d visit you again.” He twitched as he realized exactly what Tolomon was meaning. “I would even bet, with a bond that strong, you’d be willing to get thrown in the dungeon. Maybe even a few lashings. So you really got to think, don’t you? Do you actually love those children?”
Indenuel set his glass down harder than he wanted to. The anger flared, and the itching in his wrists returned far too quickly with an intensity he didn’t expect. Tolomon smirked, then finally tore his gaze from Indenuel to see Martin who froze mid bite before looking at Indenuel in alarm.
Indenuel curled his fists and closed his eyes, swearing under his breath. Tolomon got him angry, and of all the corruptive powers that flared up, it had to be pain. When he was sitting right next to Martin the Healer.