Queen's Shadow || Kingdom at the End of the World - Book II

[31.1] Old Beginning

The days grew short and cold. The year tumbled toward an end with rising speed yet Samodevia stood still, as if bracing against something more profound than the passage of time.

Victor Fair walked through the village of Elsendorf on a quiet morning. Frost crunched under his boots, the sound loud in the empty streets. Victor shifted his burden – a basketful of eggs and bread and other such things – to his nondominant hand. He did not carry his sword, but a soldier was never without a weapon at hand.

The curious silence lifted. As it did, a young boy stepped from the thin shadow of a nearby birch. He looked at Victor with large, unhappy eyes.

Victor inclined his head in greeting. Henry was not much changed from the child Victor remembered clinging to Mrs. Hendricks's side. He had grown not at all. From the length of his hair to the worn cuffs of his clothes, it was as if not a moment had passed since their very first meeting at the side of a bloodied river. Indeed, the only difference was the Guardian's absence – and oh, what a difference it made.

Victor would have never mistaken Henry for a human child, had he met the boy as he were now.

Henry came to Victor's side. He followed after the soldier like a flitting bird all the way to the Korral estate. His feet never quite touched the ground, Victor noted.

Malik appeared as soon as they crossed whatever invisible boundary the cub had determined to signal the start of their territory. He growled at Henry. Henry blinked back, entirely unimpressed.

"Take this inside," Victor instructed.

Malik accepted the heavy basket. He stared at Henry for another long moment, then turned away with a huff.

Victor led Henry into the house. The boy hesitated at the threshold, but did come inside, glancing around with intent. The light of a flickering candle washed his eyes gold.

"There!" Malik cried out.

The boy thundered down the stairs from the second floor, gesturing wildly at their unexpected guest. Sofia followed close after him. The girl was less apparent in her hurry, but her steps were much livelier than usual. She watched Henry with great focus.

Henry returned the attention. The boy stood so still he appeared a shadow himself, unblinking, unbreathing, cast by some unseen specter.

"Malik," Victor broke the tentative quiet, "Fetch the eggs."

Malik's scowl lightened in his confusion. His eyes lowered in sheepish realization soon thereafter. The boy bounded back up the stairs, only to return a moment later, a familiar basket swinging precariously in his dash. He glanced from Victor to Sofia to Henry, then to the kitchen door. His arms tightened around the basket but he made no move forward, reluctant to leave his friend behind.

"Let's speak over breakfast," Victor sighed.

Eggs cooked quickly. The time it took to heat the pan and break the shells still seemed eternal, immersed as the room was in silence that weighed like stone. Victor kept an eye on the children as he worked, somewhat amused to see them squared off around what remained of the kitchen table. Their serious expressions sat at odds on features still soft with youth.

Victor laid the food out and took a seat himself. No one moved, and he found himself prompting, "Eat. Eggs don't taste good cold," in the same manner his mother once had.

The soldier frowned. He had not thought of his parents for many years. The realization that he could not recall his mother's face momentarily strayed his thoughts.

Forks scratched over plates. Victor set his unease aside, turning his attention to the present and its needs. There would be time to panic later – provided that he survived whatever lay at the end of the road that awaited them all.