Chapter 3

  The parlor-room matched the splendor and pageantry of the castle, but with a cozier feel that lent to more personable surroundings.

  Present in the tastefully decorated room were two women. The first of which was a bewitching raven-haired lady in a green dress, her very presence emanating a palpable aura of majesty and power. Hektor could sense her weighted gaze the moment he stepped inside. Sitting beside her was another lady of poise. She had stern features, with her auburn hair gathered in a tight bun and wore a sleeved blouse with a petticoat. At seeing Hektor, her strict demeanor livened into someone who was quick to laugh, befriend and talk to.

  The lady in green stood, her dress unfurling and cascading like liquid as she glided across. Tall and imposing, she dwarfed Hektor and made him feel like a small child.

  Slender pale arms wrapped around him and pulled him in embrace.

  Hektor stood still as the lady seemed to take her fill of him, pressing him into her warmth. Stepping back, she cupped his face and knighted him with a kiss on his forehead.

  “How are you, son?” she spoke with a rich voice that was more a demand than a question. She caressed his cheeks in motherly concern.

  Hektor tried not to squirm in Sabina’s affection, like all boys did growing out of their mother’s wing. “I am fine,” he reassured and was happy that his voice held steady. “Was up late with some reading,” he came prepared with an excuse for the possibility that he might look worse for wear. In all the hurry, he had been caught flatfooted and hadn’t the time to mask his anxiety.

  Hektor couldn’t ascertain whether she believed him or not, but she continued to hold him, her eyes roving across his features.

  “Sabina,” the other lady called out, her inflection conveying some implied meaning.

  Sabina released her son, directing him to sit opposite the other woman.

  “Good morning, Aunt Delia,” Hektor greeted before taking the proffered seat.

  “Morning, Hektor,” she replied back in a strong voice, the smiles coming easy to her.

  Seated, Hektor fought not to sink in the plump cushion, noticing that his mother had returned to sitting beside Delia, facing him. It made him more than a little wary at being cornered. And they didn’t seem to struggle with their cushions either.

  Suspicious, Hektor tried to discern anything from the two ladies, but knew it would be a pointless endeavor. The women gave nothing away.

  The silence prolonged, almost as if the first to break would give up the advantage. The ladies waited for Hektor to initiate, whereas Hektor was more than happy to wait. Ever paranoid, no news was good news to him.

  “Have you eaten?” Delia asked, doing away with the awkwardness. She looked him up and down, noticing the receding cuff of his pants and jacket. “You keep growing but there’s still no meat on those bones.” She hummed, patting the side of her thigh. “How envious,” she accused.

  Hektor couldn’t help but smile at her. “I have eaten, yes.”

  “Well, I feel peckish,” Delia announced rebelliously and flicked her hand towards a wall with a bell pull, conjuring a basic spell. The cord stretched, ringing the servants' bell it was attached to elsewhere.

  Within moments, a maid made her appearance.

  “Duchess, Lady Moore,” the maid curtsied to the women. She then spotted Hektor and was immediately pressed to include him in her formal address, but the boy kindly gestured that it was not needed. “How may I serve?”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “Tea for three please, thank you,” Delia ordered and the maid immediately left to her task.

  “So,” Delia returned to Hektor, “what have you been reading?” she asked conversationally.

  “Study material, mostly. Julius Pollux and the Rodan Conquests in the eleventh century,” Hektor half lied. He had indeed read extensively on the topic, but his late nights were dedicated otherwise to his practice of magic.

  Sabina and Delia grew solemn.

  “Well, that explains the bags under your eyes,” Delia commented without humor.

  “It does not make for pleasant reading,” Hektor suppressed a shiver at remembering his lessons. The subject was a particularly brutal time and place in History. The atrocities committed were a testament to the savagery people were capable of.

  “Perhaps it was not the best idea to stay over Thadeus’ this time round,” Delia voiced her concern. While the man was a great historian and a good teacher, he was not an astute caregiver. Then again, perhaps it was for the better that Hektor did stay with Thadeus. Because if not, then Hektor would have mostly likely been by his lonesome with morbid thoughts for company.

  “Everything’s fine, Aunt Delia,” Hektor placated. “Master Thadeus is most kind,” he defended. “As it is, I will not impose on him further and return home tonight,” he apprised them of his schedule.

  The women were not keen on Hektor returning to his apartment. So much so that Hektor picked up on their disapproval. Before he could think on it, a knock sounded with the maid entering with a tea trolley.

  Delia rose to meet her. “Thank you for that, dear. I will be fine serving,” she said, relieving the servant.

  Amongst the sounds of crockery as Delia took to hosting, Hektor noted that his mother had been unusually stoic. Another oddity in a day of oddities was that he felt that Sabina looked at him differently somehow. Hektor couldn’t put his finger on what, it was more of an intuition, but it had him worried.

  Delia placed a number of confectionaries and pastries near Hektor. “Eat,” she ordered as she handed Sabina a cup and reclined with her own.

  Hektor politely chose a biscuit, not wanting to consume anything heavy. He had managed to overcome most of his anxiety, but the castle always made him restless. Besides that, he suspected the imminent reveal of unpleasant business. So he sensibly kept a light stomach.

  The curious side of him wanted to broach the subject, while his paranoia decided to let sleeping dogs lie. He would be more than content just to have tea, make small talk and leave.

  His suspicions did not escape the ladies. Delia would have been impressed by the boy’s sharp instincts, but she could only manage to be exasperated that Hektor was always on edge. Not that she could blame the boy.

  Oddly enough, Delia felt that Sabina was just as culpable at avoiding the subject. She had barely spoken. Which placed it upon Delia herself to mediate between the tightlipped mother and son.

  “Hektor, you must be wondering why you were asked to come so suddenly,” she spoke up.

  Sabina and Hektor had similar reactions. They both stilled and their expressions schooled into cool indifference. While Hektor was too young to mask his trepidations, Delia had been closest friends with Sabina long enough to know her tells. Few could understand the inscrutable Sabina Ashworth more than Delia Moore, and Delia knew that right then her friend was not as impervious as her reputation was to be believed.

  Hektor put down his crockery slowly. “Has something happened?” he asked with what he hoped to be a confident manner, even if he could not stop his voice from shaking.

  “Yes,” spoke Sabina. Her affirmation sounded like a judge’s verdict to Hektor. Only for her next words to confuse him greatly. “It concerns the Crofts.”

  Hektor was momentarily flummoxed. “Pardon? Do you mean Crofts of Crofts Enterprises?” he clarified, flustered as his mind raced to make connections.

  “Yes,” confirmed Sabina. “The very same.”

  “What do you know of them?” Delia asked, angling to keep Hektor engaged.

  Hektor scrambled for a strategy. One of things he was taught was that when at a disadvantage, it was better to let others reveal their hand. And he was certainly at a disadvantage.

  “Mistress Blackwood has discussed them at length, so I am not entirely ignorant,” he hedged, recalling his lessons with his tutor of commerce.

  “This concerns Gwen Croft. What do you know of ‘her’?” Delia prodded, but Hektor missed her inflection of ‘her’.

  All the more confused, Hektor strived to be levelheaded. He wanted to ask his own questions, only he didn’t know which questions to ask. “Very little,” he confessed. “Most of what I know about the Crofts is purely academic. As to Miss Croft, besides common knowledge and hearsay, I am not intimate with her.”

  Delia shifted slightly at Hektor’s choice of words and the ladies shared a look between them.

  “I wanted to be the one to tell you,” Sabina spoke with gravity. “There has been an accord between The Crown and the Crofts.”

  Hektor looked on confusedly to the two women. What did any of this had to do with him?

  “It involves the betrothal of Gwen Croft,” Sabina emphasized.

  When Sabina didn’t elaborate, Hektor cluelessly asked, “And?”

  “Gwen Croft’s betrothal to you,” Sabina clarified.