Midnight Wonders

4.2.4. Infants in Their Cradles

Luc had lost track of the turns in the halls when the yellow-mustached man finally showed him a door that was identical to all the other doors they'd passed. "You may enter when you please."

Luc did not please, but he could not just stand there forever, so he opened the door and entered.

The room was larger than he'd expected, perhaps twice or three times the size of the bedrooms. It looked like a living room, with several chairs arranged around a center table. Sitting facing the door was a dark-haired man with a well-groomed mustache and beard. He blinked as the door opened and stared at Luc. Across from him, with her back to the door, was Emma. She turned around.

"Oh," said Luc. "I should have knocked."

"Go on in," the man behind him said.

Luc stared at him. It seemed rude to intrude.

"Come in." That was the dark-haired man who'd spoken. His voice was lower and gruffer than Luc had expected. By appearances he was middle-aged, but his voice had a weariness that made him sound much older. "Thank you, Morgan."

The yellow-haired man inclined his head, barely a nod. "Of course, my King." He gave Luc a wordless look, then turned and walked away.

Luc looked into the room again. Both the King and Emma were staring at him. He stepped tentatively inside and closed the door behind him. Emma patted the arm of the chair beside her, and Luc sat, looking at the King all the while.

"Hello," he said, awkwardly. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

"Of course not," said Emma. "We were waiting for you."

Luc wondered what the proper etiquette when addressing a king was. He stared at the King of the Sycamore, even as he tried to avert his eyes. It was difficult when the King was staring back at him.

"This is the King of the Sycamore," Emma said, holding a hand out towards the King.

Luc felt like bowing, but he was already seated. He just nodded as Morgan had done. "I'm Luc." He didn't know what the right form of address was. Your Majesty? Morgan hadn't even said that. He should have added a "sir" just to be careful. It was too late, now. The silence was astronomical.

"I see," said the King. He was silent again. Luc wanted to die. The King made a strangled sound, and all of a sudden he was burying his face into his hand and almost certainly crying.

Luc stared at Emma, eyes wide in panic. She did not look surprised, just sympathetic. She produced a handkerchief from her pocket and gave it to the King, who took it gratefully, lifting his head to reveal his red eyes.

Luc coughed into his fist. He would rather be back in Kay's room with Kay telling him horrible things. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, very," the King managed, not sounding all right at all. "You see...I have not seen my son in a very long time."

"Ah," said Luc. "I...hope he comes around soon."

"He is very foolish," said the King. "He doesn't know how to take care of himself, and he doesn't know how to think." He wiped his eyes. "I don't know why he insists on being so. He's fully grown and a terrible influence on his younger—" He stopped and blew his nose.

"Don't worry, sir," said Emma. "We'll get him back."

"Yes, of course you will," said the King, wiping his nose. "The two of you will work very well together."

"Wait," said Luc before he could help himself. "What?"

"What?" echoed the King. "Were you not going to the Yew?"

"Oh," he said, still confused.

"My son has not been home in a long time," the King said. "He refuses to come back. He is...upset with me. But he does not hide." He sighed. "It must be out of spite. He makes his whereabouts well-known, and he shows me he is everywhere but home. And he steals all my knights to take with him, even the littlest of the boys. Well, they have announced to everyone that they are going to the Yew." His expression turned bitter. "And that they are looking for a woman."

Looking for...a woman? A prince? Knights?

"At least you know he is well," said Luc, trying to remember the man who had waved at Kay, for surely that was him. It had been a while ago. Exhaustion had beaten the memory from his mind.

"Yes," said the King. "I suppose so."

"Luc and I will depart for the Yew as soon as Annabel arrives," Emma said, "and we will return with him as soon as possible."

"And my sister," Luc muttered, wondering if that was insensitive to mention in front of the King.

"And Cora," she amended.

"We will provide you with whatever resources you need," the King said. "You may take any knights as you please." He glanced at Luc. "I will make Kay go with you."

"Oh—no," said Luc. "Kay doesn't want to go. He already brought me here. I won't ask him to do any more."

The King gave him an odd look. "If you insist. Though Kay will listen to me."

For some reason, Luc didn't like that. "I don't want him to do anything he doesn't want to."

The King gave him another odd look. Luc didn't know how to interpret it. "If you say so." Luc wondered if he'd been disrespectful for disagreeing with a king. This was all very much to comprehend, and he could hardly think of it now.

"Um," said Luc. "Thank you for your hospitality. Once I get my sister back I'll be leaving, so you won't have to worry about me taking your rooms much longer."

The King made an incomprehensible noise and wiped his nose again.

There was another moment of silence. Luc wondered if he could get away with asking to leave. Would he go back to Kay's room? He hadn't finished the porridge. He didn't even know the way back to his own room.

"Why must children be so disobedient?" The King of the Sycamore sighed. "Why can they not stay as they are? They grow too quickly and always leave. I still remember them as infants in their cradles." His eyes were watering again. "I thought that they were happy to stay. But one was taken by the wind and another left when left by his lonesome. They have left misery in their wake." He wiped his eyes. "But it has been too long for me to still be upset. Even one is enough for me, but it would be nice to have both of them back."

Luc wondered how long it had been. It had hardly been what, days, weeks, since he'd seen Cora, and her absence was like a raw wound. He didn't want to imagine what it would be like to miss her for even longer, though he knew he would have to.

"We will do what we can," Emma said gently.

The King was occupied with the handkerchief again. "Thank you," he said, voice strangled. "I won't keep you any longer."

"Thank you, sir. We'll be on our way." Emma got up and gestured for Luc to do the same. He did so, following Emma to the door. Luc glanced over his shoulder at the Sycamore King. He knew it wasn't his fault, but he still felt guilty for the man's tears.

"One last thing: my son," the King said, and he looked up, straight at Luc. "His name is Tristan. Remember that."

"Of course," said Luc. "I won't forget."