The Source (Creasan #1)

Chapter 13

Ana sat on a bench in the garden with a book in her hand while Ulric and Althalos sparred, though she was hardly paying any attention to the words on the page. There was something so addictive about watching her child smile with innocent bliss. If she could, she'd like to capture the moment in a portrait forever. It was so rare that she was able to see anyone look as carefree as Althalos looked when he sparred with Ulric.

For Ulric's part, he appeared to be having just as much fun. What used to be just the sound of wood slapping wood had now become metal crashing against metal as Althalos improved. Ana liked to think he'd be as good as Fendrel one day.

Her son let out a mighty roar as he knocked Ulric's blade to the side and lunged forward, poking the end of his sword into his teacher's chest.

Ulric stared down with a proud grin.

Althalos dropped the sword and threw his arms up in victory. "Did you see that, Mother? I won!"

Ana laughed and applauded. "Of course I did. Well done, dear!"

Ulric grinned. "Only took twelve hundred times. Real sword too heavy for you?"

"Obviously not," he said. "Because I won."
Ulric laughed. "When did you get so good?"

"He had a marvelous teacher," Ana said.

"And I've been practicing with my friend," Althalos said, picking up the sword again.

The adults shared a look of confusion. "Who is this friend, darling?" Ana asked.

"Her name is Sybbyl. She is a very good fighter, and she offered to help me with my sword training." He crinkled his nose playfully at Ulric. "I got tired of losing."

"I don't believe I know a Sybbyl at this court." Ana glanced at Ulric. "Do you?"

He shrugged. "Can't say that I do."

Any other mother would have shrugged it off and been glad her son had made a friend. Ana was not any other mother. A swirling feeling took up in her stomach. "Do you know her parents' names, Althalos?"

He lowered his sword and gave his mother a look. "Parents are boring. Why would we talk about them?"

"Well, I—"

"We'd love to meet her one day," Ulric cut in. He gestured to the palace. "You best get cleaned up before supper. Don't need your father bringing the wrath of Malum down on me because his son showed up filthy to the dining room."

The boy rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue before racing off to do as he was told.

Ulric watched him go with a small smile and shook his head. "If I'd behaved like that as a child, my mother would have had me beaten. No, no, she'd have beaten me herself."

Ana didn't even answer him, her worried eyes locked on her son's form.

Ulric's joking smile faded as he noticed her concern. "What's wrong, Your Majesty?"

She shook her head but didn't take her eyes from Althalos' retreating form. "Nothing."

"Perhaps you might afford me more credit than that." He approached her warily before carefully sitting several inches away from her on the bench. "You suspect something dangerous in this new friend of his?"

"Althalos does not have friends," she said, finally bringing her gaze to the Guard's. "I have tried. There is not a child under the sun that is willing to endure his...regal personality."

"That's one way to put it," Ulric chuckled.

"No one, Ulric. None at all." She picked at the stitches of flowers in her dress. "And out of nowhere he's met a friend whom none of us have heard of?"