Magistaire Chronicles: Shadows of the Past

Chapter 38

Galdraenae told Yarrow where he'd end up. Even if he didn't know how, he knew he'd find his way to Stormmond. It was a miracle that the portal had worked, but it was both a curse and a blessing that it spewed him out in the royal palace. Queen Adalsteinn was practically his wife in another life, and as such, she would want to talk. To feast and drink to celebrate their reunion after gods knew how many years it had been, and then she'd never let him go. After all, he still owed her an heir, and if he couldn't give one to her in her old age, she'd find another poor lass for him to bestow his seed upon. The thought nearly made him shudder when he landed on his feet with a flash of light.

Despite the crack of the portal echoing through the room, it went unnoticed by those in attendance. The strings of a lute echoed through the air, accompanied by drums—the duo were beastfolk, Bruu dressed in linens. Their round eyes watched all who walked past, disappointment filling the bearfolks' round faces upon receiving no tips. Pacing around the sea of nobles, who were garbed in jewels and gemstones, were servants holding tin plates topped with meats, cheese, and drinks.

Among the sea of reveling nobles, Yarrow singled out the aged queen seated atop her throne, which was two sizes too big for her. Even in her old age, she retained the same absent look in her multicolored eyes, twirling a strand of white hair around her finger while servants offered drinks and meats to her. She waved them away, only to give Yarrow a hurried glance when he moved to turn around. Her eyes flickered to life, a sign that Yarrow had moved a step too late.

"Naranin?"

Yarrow turned around, standing taller than he had already. The queen's voice had grown thin with age, but she walked briskly, pushing past onlookers who stared bewildered at her. Her mane of loose curls bounced with each step, and the golden bracelets around her wrists jingled like bells. Black eyeliner circled her eyelids, her lips glossed black as well. Her skin, while wrinkled, was without a blemish.

"Hmm." Yarrow hid a smile as he looked down at her. She was as pretty as the day he first met her when her father knighted him for saving her life.

"Naranin!" Her bewilderment faded away, and her voice hardened. She scowled and looked him up and down. "I'd recognize that scowl from anywhere, you sod! How dare you show your face in my court?"

"You allowed me to come and go as I please, my lady."

"Just queen will do," she said coolly.

Yarrow followed her back to her throne, the music ceasing as the room stared after him, frozen in place. He heard the occasional whisper, but he ignored them. He knelt as the queen sat, the old woman sneering and waving her hand.

"Oh, stand," she demanded. "You were never one to kneel."

Yarrow rose and allowed his smile to break through. "You've aged well."

"And you have not." She rolled her eyes, one blue and one green. "If you've come to bring me that heir you promised, you're a near two centuries too late. Perhaps you could marry Aarael, however. The girl's just come of age."

Yarrow blinked at her. "I'm two hundred years old."

"With nothing to show for your age but a missing eye and arm." Adalsteinn pressed her lips together. "My son and daughter grew up to be worthless," she huffed. "Drunken oafs I wouldn't dare let sit on this throne. A warrior is what this bloodline needs, one who bears a particular gift."

"That ship has sailed," Yarrow replied.

A scowl contorted the Queen's face. "It sails when I—"

Yarrow followed her gaze when she stared past him, the court's double, polished wooden doors bursting open. Stepping through them was a boy, spindly and stiff as any man who had never worked in his life. His nails were slathered in the same red lacquer as the queen's, and he shared her eyes. His hair nearly shared the same hue as Adalsteinn's but was a smidge too blonde.