Does he expect me to say something now?
From down the street, she heard the rhythmic hammering of metal as Grimbald resumed his work, the blows marking the passage of time. She pretended to straighten her skirt, wondering if it would be better if she left.
“The last time I saw my father, we had a terrible fight,” Hadrian said without looking up.
“What about?” Arista gently asked.
“I wanted to join Lord Baldwin’s men-at-arms. I wanted to be a soldier. He wanted me to be a blacksmith.” Hadrian scuffed the dirt with his boot. “I wanted to see the world, have adventures—be a hero. He wanted to chain me to that anvil. And I couldn’t understand that. I was good with a sword; he saw to that. He trained me every day. When I couldn’t lift the sword anymore, he just made me switch arms. Why’d he do that if he wanted me to be a smith?”
A vision swept back to her of two faces in Avempartha: the heir she had not recognized—but Hadrian’s face had been unmistakable as the guardian.
Royce didn’t tell him? Should I?
“When I told him my plans to leave, he was furious. He said he didn’t train me to gain fame or money. That my skills were meant for greater things, but he wouldn’t say what they were.
“The night I left, we had words—lots of them—and none good. I called him a fool. I might even have said he was a coward. I don’t remember. I was fifteen. I ran away and did just what he didn’t want me to. I was gonna show him—prove the old man wrong. Only he wasn’t. It’s taken me this long to figure that out. Now it’s too late.”
“You never came back?”
Hadrian shook his head. “By the time I returned from Calis, I heard he’d died. I didn’t see any point in returning.” He pulled the letter out. “Now there’s this.” He shook the parchment in his fingers.
“Don’t you want to know what it says?”
“I’m afraid to find out.” He continued to stare at the letter as if it were a living thing.
She placed a hand on his arm and gave a soft squeeze. She did not know what else to do. She felt useless. Women were supposed to be comforting, consoling, nurturing, but she did not know how. She felt awful for him, and her inability to do anything to help just made her feel worse.
Hadrian stood up. With a deep breath, he opened the letter and began reading. Arista waited. He lowered his hand slowly, holding the letter at his side.
“What does it say?”
Hadrian held out the letter, letting it slip from his fingers. Before she could take it, the parchment drifted to the ground at her feet. As she bent to pick it up, Hadrian walked away.
Arista rejoined Royce at the well.
“What was in the letter?” he asked. She held it out to Royce, who read it. “What was his reaction?”
“Not good. He walked off. I think he wants to be alone. You never told him, did you?”
Royce continued to study the letter.
“I can’t believe you never told him. I mean, I know Esrahaddon told us not to, but I guess I just expected that you would anyway.”
“I don’t trust that wizard. I don’t want me or Hadrian wrapped up in his little schemes. I couldn’t care less who the guardian is, or the heir, for that matter. Maybe it was a mistake coming here.”
“You came here on purpose? You mean this had nothing to do with—You came here for proof, didn’t you?”
“I wanted something to confirm Esrahaddon’s claim. I really didn’t expect to find anything.”
“He just told me his father trained him night and day in sword fighting and said his skills were for greater things. Sounds like proof to me. You know, you would have discovered that if you had just talked to him. He deserves the truth, and when he gets back, one of us needs to tell him.”
Royce nodded, carefully refolding the letter. “I’ll talk to him.”
CHAPTER 9
THE GUARDIAN
The oak clenched the earth with a massive hand of gnarled roots unchanged by time. In the village, houses were lost to fires. New homes were built to accommodate growing families, and barns were raised on once vacant land, but on this hill time stood as still as the depths of Gutaria Prison. Standing beneath the tree’s leaves, Hadrian felt young again.