Chapter 38:

  The Lord of House Rodrigo did not receive an immediate response. Seeing this he set his utensils down with the quiet precision of a man to whom control had become as much habit as expectation. “Elias Aster Rodrigo." Eli's name was a statement in his father's mouth. "Why is your mana half depleted? Your movement is stiff, your posture tense, when you entered the room, you walked as though each step cost you.” He paused, his eyes flicking to Aria, before resettling on his son. “What happened to you?” Gabriel’s voice was calm, almost mild, but the energy and tone of his words held a petrifying effect.

  Like an ice spell, the whole room stilled. Eli’s father had voiced the unvoiced, said the unspoken. This question was more than a question. Eli knew as much just from the look in his father’s eyes. He knew the question was asking about more than just his current, miserable condition. His father had, in one phrase, punched cracks into the careful, deliberate pretence that Eli had been maintaining for months. His words, like a sharp-edged blade, had stripped away the facade that his parents had been tacitly playing along with. Only Aria was unaffected by the atmosphere. Too delighted by the abundance of food choices to pay much attention.

  For all Eli’s effort, he knew the day he came back it would be impossible to perfectly hide his changes, or to play them off as simply the natural result of diligence and talent – at least not forever. He could integrate the parts of him that were his younger self, but he knew he would never truly be the boy he was again. Of course his parents had noticed. They had danced around it in a hundred small ways. Sela’s lingering looks during lessons. Gabriel’s longer pauses during training. Even Mme. Okoro had mentioned their son’s explosive increase in aptitude, though she believed it was a result of increased interest, and effort.

  That was not the same for the Lady and Lord Rogrigo. They knew their son, and more and more often Eli found them measuring him up with an intensity born of caution and curiosity. Honestly Eli was surprised his family had allowed it to go on for this long. Perhaps they were waiting for him to come to them of his own accord, something he had planned to do in the near future anyway now that he had the haul from the night before.

  Apparently, they were done waiting. Now the unspoken had been dragged into the open and tossed across the breakfast table like a sack of dirty laundry, private matters just a push away from being laid bare.

  “Elias.” Gabriel’s voice was as much command as it was question.

  The room remained silent, Eli stared at the polished surface of the silver spoon in his hand, eyes unblinking.

  Here Eli had thought he’d hidden it so well. Foolish. Who was his father? What was his father? A Martial Saint. Even if he didn’t know his son like he was a part of himself, how could he not analyze a person’s movements like it was second nature. He knew that. He’d known that when he decided to try hiding the truth, and he’d known it the moment he stepped into the room. Perhaps this is what he’d wanted all along? An opening, an ‘in’. He’d needed that fa?ade shattered in order to move forward, but the one to break the illusion couldn’t be him.

  Eli pressed his time affinity for only a split second, watched his reflection in the spoon shaking its head in resignation, before he pulled the future sight back. In the present he remained still. It was a huge waste of the pitiful mana he’d managed to scrape back during sleep, and he felt a little guilty for making his mother tense up, but it was so cathartic to use his affinity again. It was habit; familiar and grounding.

  Eli placed his spoon down on the fine porcelain bowl, the sound creating an almost imperceptible clink, before he placed his hand into his lap. He kept his face carefully neutral, his breathing even, his mana slowly refilling even as he sat. His eyes shifted from the spoon to his cup as he took a careful sip before replacing it on the table in front of him. He noted the way the morning light caught in a thin line along the rim. His eyelids fluttered, and for an instant his gaze went distant, like someone had called his name from very far away. The whole table waited with bated breath as Eli composed himself. The whole table besides one person.

  Aria, beside him, noted the tension in the room, but not understanding it, and knowing it wasn’t directed at her, she opted to curl in and occupy herself with the simple miracle of warm food. Cheeks slightly pink from the heat of the liquid cacao the staff had kindly prepared for her, and comfortable in the pretty dress she was wearing – one of the many she’d been gifted by Eli’s family – Aria looked so different from the child Eli had met on a street corner. Intentionally or not, she had completely divorced herself from the goings on happening around her.

  Eli did not have that luxury. Instead, he lifted his head slowly and looked at his father.

  “You did not say anything before.” The words weren’t the first to reach his lips, but in his agitation, they were the first to slip out. The moment they left his mouth he regretted them.

  Gabriel Rodrigo did not back down or explode. He did not tighten his jaw or bare teeth to snarl the way a less disciplined man may have. On the surface, it almost appeared as though he had not heard Eli’s words at all. His expression remained composed, almost blank, but like a sudden tidal wave, his presence shifted in an instant. Gabriel Rodrigo went still as an anchor sinking into a stormy sea, unmoved by current, unyielding to the world around him. His eyes locked on Eli’s with an intensity that threatened to drown the boy.

  Eli’s own instinct screamed to capitulate. To lower his gaze. To offer an apology, some signal of contrition. The correct attitude an unfilial child was supposed to offer when confronted by his father.

  He refused.

  Not because he was challenging his father’s authority, or even because – despite the shred of truth – he believed his words were correct or justified. Gabriel Rodrigo was Lord Rodrigo and Eli had never once forgotten it. However, yielding now would be surrendering to the wrong thing. It wouldn’t be a sign of respect, it would be the easy way out. It would be an insincere answer to the unspoken question. This was not about pride. This was about the knife-edge of trust that held their family together, and if Eli let himself fold at this pressure, he would never be able to properly lay out what needed to be said.

  Gabriel was quiet steel when he spoke. “Do I not know my son?”

  Eli clenched his jaw and held the gaze another heartbeat, forcing his breathing to stay even. Then he drew a slow inhale and, carefully, looked to his mother. There were no two people in the world Eli respected more than his parents. No matter how far he rose, no matter how high he climbed, that truth had never changed.

  Sela’s eyes were on him already. Not hard or accusing, but piercing all the same. There was an undercurrent to her look as well that that Eli didn’t want to name. Something beneath the surface was fraying at the edges and Eli had caused that. He had put that look on his mother’s face, he had drawn that tone from his father’s mouth.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Eli’s eyes flicked briefly to Aria, then back to the table, then up again to his father. “After breakfast,” he began, voice steady, if a little tight. “After breakfast could we talk in the strategy room? All of us.”

  Gabriel’s brows lifted a fraction. Sela’s lips pressed together. Neither moved nor spoke.

  Eli didn’t try to-explain, nor did he give an excuse. Instead, he made a request. A plea for patience, for understanding, for his parents to extend one more measure of trust. “I know it will affect the schedule,” his gaze flicked over to his father’s silent attendant – standing like a deaf mannequin at the back and side of the room. “I need to speak with you.” His eyes moved to his mother, then back to the table, his lips pressed tightly together and then released. “Please”

  Silence, then a single nod from Gabriel and his mother’s quiet capitulation. “Alright, my little star.”

  For some reason hearing that term of endearment made his eyes feel hot and his nose sting. He took a deep, stuttering breath, considered flaring up his time mana again, but knew that even the smallest time spell would bottom him out, and he didn’t want to deal with mana depletion on top of whatever this was that he was feeling right now.

  After that, the rest of breakfast proceeded in a strange, disciplined quiet. It was not a cold silence, but it was rigid. Eli ate like a machine, each bite deliberate, refined, almost mechanical. Sela moved with her usual elegance; the kind of grace that made every motion look effortless and every action lovely. Gabriel’s bites were disciplined, economical, and efficient. If the few staff still in the room noticed anything none of them so much as hinted at it.

  Only Aria remained lost in her own little world, happily munching away with the fierce focus of a child determined to enjoy every mouthful. She swung her feet once under the table, stopped herself as if remembering manners, then absentmindedly began again. Her brows pinched in concentration as she attempted to cut a piece of meat like she’d seen Eli do. When she succeeded, her face brightened in quiet triumph.

  Eli watched her, body swaying with her swinging legs, bright eyes delighted in accomplishment as they met his, coaxing him to share in her simple triumph. His lips twitched up, just once before his focus was drawn back to the table.

  When the meal ended, he excused himself without fuss. “I will see Aria off,” he said.

  Gabriel’s response was a simple. “Be quick.”

  “We will meet you in the room.” Sela added.

  Eli rose from the table and walked with Aria at his side.

  Sela’s gaze lingered on Eli a moment longer than usual. Then she turned away with the quiet grace of a lady, and the warm acceptance of a mother. Whatever her son was dealing with she would support him through it or go down helping him escape it. She looked at her husband and saw a complicated mix of emotions in his eyes. She smiled at him, reached out and squeezed his shoulder. They would face whatever it was together.

  As soon as they were out of the breakfast room, and past the gazes of his parents Aria spoke. “I have to go home,” she said. Her voice was soft and reluctant, her words were spoken to nobody but the open air, as if saying them aloud might make them less true.

  “I know,” Eli replied, and Aria hummed in acknowledgement.

  Her shoulders were a little less tense than they used to be. She walked with a fraction more confidence now, willing to take up just a touch more space in the corridor. This keep had done that. Safety had done that, helped her spine straighten just a little, let her gait lengthen and her steps move freely forward. At least when they were alone.

  Still, habit lingered. She kept her hands clasped in front of her, her gaze slightly lowered. She stayed half a step behind Eli unless he deliberately slowed to match her. Progress was progress, however, and Eli was happy for every little bit of it.

  “I wish I could stay,” she admitted.

  Eli’s eyes remained forward as they walked. “I wish you would stay,” he said, and if it came out too bluntly, too honestly, well to them it didn’t matter because with Aria he never bothered pretending he didn’t care.

  Still, her steps faltered for a heartbeat, and Eli felt her studying him in that intense way she sometimes did. She pulled her gaze back, and her eyes drifted to the floor out of habit. “My father needs me,” she said, and the words were careful. Clearly rehearsed. A stock phrase she must have said so many times Eli probably wouldn’t be able to pick any emotion out of it even with an empathic spell.

  Eli glanced at her, and she glanced back. It was brief, but something in his expression must have shifted in that short time because Aria’s face tightened. His look made her uncomfortable. It made something in her belly feel tight and knotted. It raised the fine hairs along her arms, and made her want to both reach out, and pull away.

  Instead, like a startled rabbit, she quickly changed the subject. “Thank you,” she said.

  Eli’s brow creased. “For what?”

  “My nightmare,” Aria answered, quieter now. She glanced to the side where an unobtrusive guard was stationed. Her voice shrunk to a whisper “I think you really helped.”

  Eli slowed his pace until he was once more side by side with his friend. “Sometimes,” he said, “just having another person there is all you need.” His voice was gentle.

  Aria’s eyes lifted to him. There was distant longing there, sharp and quiet. It felt as though she were looking beyond him to something he couldn’t see. “I wish you could always be there.”

  Eli stopped in the corridor.

  Aria stopped too, confused, her small hands twisting in her skirt. Eli turned to face her properly, held out his arms and crossed them at his wrists. His hands were balled into loose fists, apart from his pinkies. Those he held out, slightly crooked. His face held a silly smile, though his eyes were intense and serious.

  Aria blinked. “What are you doing?”

  Eli’s mouth twitched. “Come on. You too.”

  Aria’s brows drew together in a small frown, but she crossed her arms too and lifted her hands. Her pinkies hovered awkwardly. Eli hooked their pinkies together with quiet certainty and gave their joined hands two solemn shakes.

  Only then did it click for Aria. Her eyes widened. “A promise?”

  Eli nodded. “A vow.”

  Her face brightened so suddenly Eli couldn’t help but grin along with her.

  It had been decades since he’d made such a promise, but it had also only been a few months. The words came to him from a place almost beyond memory. He recited the familiar rhyme reflexively. “Cross my arms and lock my wrist, pinkies in a promise twist.”

  Aria repeated it, then broke out into a delighted giggle as she shook their joined hands twice—once for each of them before letting go.

  Aria stared at her own pinkies like they truly had been enchanted. “This means that for always, if I have nightmares, I can come for help?”

  “As long as I am able, you can come.” Eli said, and he meant it. Eli knew what it was to carry nightmares alone. His smile dimmed, before it perked back up.

  “Swear?” she asked.

  “Swear,” Eli confirmed.

  Aria’s smile became more serious, more imploring as she whispered. “Forever?”

  “Forever, and ever,” Eli’s confirmed. His brows drew together, just a fraction. Promises were dangerous things. He had lived through too many broken oaths, betrayals and lost promises. A part of him scolded himself for recklessly spewing anything out that sounded like certainty. As someone with a time affinity and a history that included dying then returning from the future, he knew just how unpredictable life could be. However, the little boy inside him couldn’t help but state as certainty what were truly only wishes and desires.

  Besides, Aria was watching him, wide-eyed and hopeful, and he’d already said the words. He’d already spoken the vow. They’d crossed pinkies and everything.

  Aria made a delighted noise, then her expression became sullen. “But you can’t make fun of me anymore.”

  “What ‘make fun of you.’”

  “You said I snore loud.”

  “You do snore loud,” Eli replied without hesitation. “I could hardly fall asleep.” From start to finish, both were blatant lies, but he said them with all the confidence and imperiousness of a noble scion, and a shameless bully.

  Aria’s chin lifted, and her hands went to her hips. “I do not snore.”

  “You do.”

  “Do not!” She was smiling now.

  Eli darted past her with a grin. “You sound like a dozing snufflehound.” Eli compared her to the notoriously loud and lazy animal.

  Aria let out an indignant sound and dashed after him, laughter bubbling up despite herself. For a few moments they were simply two children in a hallway, the heaviness of the world held at bay.

  Snufflehound: Noun | Mammal

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