“You summoned me, Mother?” Andreus said as his mother turned.
Her dark brown hair was the same color as his, but her eyes were the deepest of browns—very different from his hazel ones. Right now her dark eyes shimmered with anger. Perfect since she was wearing a dress of red. Still, his mother’s voice was controlled as she spoke. “The word summoned implies that I had to compel you as your queen to visit. One might assume you would not have come had it simply been your mother who asked for your company.”
“I misspoke. Summoned was the wrong word.” He changed tactics. “Forgive me, Mother. Of course I enjoy your company.”
“Do you?” She looked at him as she crossed to the table and took a seat. “I can’t help but notice that you have only visited with me three times since your father and brother went to observe the guard fighting the war.”
“I’ve been busy, Mother.” Andreus slipped into the seat across from the Queen and presented her the stem of flowers. “Besides, Micah told me you were going to be spending time with Imogen. Something to do with wedding plans and picking out dresses. Activities not aligned with my enthusiasms.”
“Lady Imogen has no need of my help, and if I have my way she won’t be around long enough to become the next Queen.” His mother sniffed the flower before placing it on the table. She then picked up her tea and downed the entire cup in one gulp. She gave a contented sigh and signaled her maid for a refill. “Would you like some, dear?”
“No.” He put his hand over the cup. He’d learned from his sister’s troubles that it was best to be cautious of his mother’s brew. One was never certain what it might contain.
His mother looked down at his hand and stared long and hard. The silence was deafening with condemnation. When he looked down he realized why.
The grease. It not only streaked up the back of the hand, but was dug under his fingernails.
Quickly, he gave his mother his best boyish smile. “My apologies for my appearance, Mother. I was heading to clean up before I got your message. I figured it was best not to keep you waiting just because of a little dirt.”
It was a lot of dirt, but at the moment he failed to think quantity mattered.
“Your father is right. You shouldn’t be working as a commoner. It makes you look like one. People look to their kings and queens for inspiration, especially in times of war. No one is inspired by soil.”
Clearly, his mother hadn’t met Max.
“I’m sure you didn’t call me here to discuss the dirt under my fingernails. You were talking about Imogen. Did the two of you have a falling out?”
His mother took another long drink of tea as she studied him over her cup. Finally, she sat the delicate cup down on its saucer and signaled the maids to leave. As soon as they closed the door, she leaned forward and said, “I’ve asked Imogen several times to look into the future and tell me what she sees. Do you know what she says?”
“No.” Now that Imogen had made a point of asking him to keep his distance, he knew very little what was in her mind or her heart.
“She says there will be darkness. When the darkness fades, two paths will appear in front of our kingdom and there is no telling which one will be chosen.”
“Sounds like the same kind of mystical nonsense Seer Kheldin used to say. You were always happy with his fortune-telling.”
“Fortune-tellers guess at the future,” his mother snapped as she pushed back her chair and began to pace across the yellow carpet. “Seers have true powers. How else do you explain Seer Kheldin’s ability to shift the position of the windmills to perfectly capture the winds?”
The Masters of Light’s observational abilities sprang to mind as well as about a dozen other nonmystical rationalizations, but Andreus held his tongue. His mother was a firm believer in the magical powers of seers, their ability to call the winds, read the stars, and therefore know the future. She loved to lecture him on the legend of the Artis root, and how it had been used for centuries to test seers. While it made for a nice story, Andreus had a hard time believing anyone could speak to the wind and call it to obey, let alone get glimpses of the future from staring at the night sky.
He believed only what he could see with his own two eyes.
But his mother had faith, especially after the prediction Seer Kheldin made before Andreus and Carys were born. Andreus had lived his entire life in fear that one of the four members of the Council that served back then would remember the prediction, made years before his birth, and take action against him. If any of those Council members shared that information, someone else could spot his secret. If he was condemned for it, what then? Andreus didn’t wish to find out what darkness would come. So, outside the walls, he made sure to keep out of sight of the Council. It was how he began studying the windmills. And fortune had it, the Council wasn’t the type to get their exercise walking on the battlements.
“So Lady Imogen gave you a glimpse of the future and you aren’t happy with what she saw?” he asked. “That hardly seems like a fair complaint. Akin to hating the sky because it sometimes contains clouds.”
“No,” his mother chided as she walked to the table and poured another cup of her tea. “I’m concerned because that is all the girl has seen. For the last six weeks, I’ve asked her to give me a reading and she keeps repeating the same vision over and over. I hate to say it, but I fear your brother’s intended is a fraud.”
Andreus waited for his mother’s next salvo, but instead of continuing to rant as she often did, she just sipped her tea as if waiting for him to speak. About what, he had no idea. Had he missed something? After several long moments under his mother’s dark-eyed stare, he shifted in his seat. “Is that all, Mother?”
She put the cup down with a clatter. “Of course, it isn’t. Do you not see what I am about? Your brother’s marriage will put our entire kingdom in jeopardy. We are at war. If the winds fail us and the Xhelozi attack throughout the cold months, Eden will be greatly weakened and our enemies will rally their troops and advance. With Imogen’s lack of skill, we won’t even see the onslaught coming until they are at our gates. It is up to you to do something about it.”
“Me?” He stood, pushing his chair back. “What do you want me to do? Shove her off the North Tower?”