An Affinity For Fire

6. Heleonne

Leo found his father standing over the body of an old man, shaking his head in pity. When he heard his son approaching, the aging Prince raised his eyes. "Well?"

"Dead," Leo confirmed. "All three. I don't think they got anyone else. How many does that make?"

"Seven assassins," he said, "five of which were Dormisian. That doesn't look good for us. Still, seven killers to six victims. Not a bad ratio, if you think about it."

"Not a bad ratio?!" Leo hissed. "Six innocents are dead! I dread to think what a bad ratio looks like to you."

"A bad ratio would be everyone dead," He answered through gritted teeth.

"Yes, well, they weren't after everyone, were they?" Leo reminded him.

"Then who were they after?" A young man's voice called out from across the garden. Leo turned to see the Versenna boy glaring at him.

"Look... Taffy, Tarwin... whatever, I don't really care. I'm a little busy. So, if you don't mind running along home, like I suggested-"

"You see that man on the floor there?" he asked, cutting him off. "That was my Uncle's Brother-in-law. He taught me to play piano. And that girl? My second cousin. I played hide and seek with her when we were seven. And that woman? I don't even know what our official relationship is, but we all called her Great Auntie Willow. At evening parties, while the adults danced and ate, she stayed up with the children, playing games and reading them stories so they wouldn't feel like they were missing out." His eyes gleamed with restrained tears which were begging to spill. "So I ask you again, Heleonne Monfort, because I remember your name perfectly fine, who were they after? Or, more pressingly, why?"

Leo felt his father's hand press heavily on his shoulder. "We can't jump to any conclusions about the motives of these... rebels. They could have had any number of reasons to want to attack the Petras."

"Are you even listening to me?" The brunet boy said, voice thick with exasperation.

Leo sighed. "Lord Versenna-"

"Tarragon," The boy corrected, visibly reddening.

"Fine, Tarragon," Leo began again. "I can't answer you question right now. as my father just said, we don't have any actual evidence to point to any specific motive."

"You have a theory, though, don't you?" Tarragon pressed. "Feel like sharing?"

Leo bit down hard on his lip, unsure of whether or not it was wise to share the little information he had with a relative stranger. He didn't even know if the Ortusian victims really were what he thought they were.

But he'll know, he suddenly realised.

"You're right, I do," he finally said. "And you can prove me either right or wrong. Your... Great Auntie Willow. She didn't happen to have an affinity for any of the core roots of magic, did she?"

The boy's eyes narrowed. "She did, yes. For earth. She was a green mage."

"And your cousin," Leo continued, trying his best to keep his tone gentle. "What about her?"

"Yes," Tarragon confirmed.

"And your... hold on... Brother-in-law's Uncle?"

"Wrong way round," He answered through gritted teeth. "But, yes, he actually had two. Earth and water."

A double affinity. Rare, and now, thanks to a group of murderers, even rarer. Leo glared at his father. "Still going to deny it?"

His question was met, not by a glower or a sharp, disciplinary remark, but by a response which Leo was far less familiar with receiving from his father. The Prince's deeply lined face slowly crumpled in fear.

"But I don't understand. They were only after yellow mages before. This means-"

"It means that we can't keep this a secret anymore," Leo cut him off, "Or a lot more innocent people are going to wind up dead."

Almost as quickly as it had faded, his father's icy resolve returned. "No. We stick to the plan. We don't let this get out. We just... increase our urgency a little."

Leo frowned. "Fine. but there's no way we can pretend this didn't happen. Most of the assassins were Dormisian. we can't just sweep this under the rug."

"Allow me to deal with that. You just focus on the thing you came her to do."

"I really doubt solidifying my engagement to Marram is at the forefront of anyone's mind right now."

"The other thing, you dimwit," his father growled. He strode towards the house. "Oh," he added, turning to look over his shoulder, "and take him." He jabbed his thumb in the direction of Tarragon.

"What?!" Leo protested.

"You'll want the assistence of an Ortusian and he is already too involved for my liking. You might as well utilise him." The old man disappeared into the house, Leaving Leo to fume privately.

Privately, that was, apart from the presence of his new, undesired aquaintance.

"Hold on, what exactly am I being utilised for?"

Leo clenched his fists. "Look, cut the ruddy interrogation and just follow me inside, would you?"

Just an hour before, Leo had felt claustrophobic in the bustling corridors. Now, the empty, silent house felt almost eery, With broken glass and furniture scattered across the carpets and meticulously positioned flower arrangements torn down by the frantic crowd of guests hurrying to flee from the deadly chaos of the back garden. He climbed the stairs, Tarragon close behind him, and headed for the guest bedroom he'd been assigned. Reaching under the bed, he pulled out two swords and some more arrows for his crossbow.

"Here." He kicked one of the swords across the floor in Tarragon's direction. "I assume you have at least a little training."

The boy shot him a sour scowl, picking up the sword and spinning it in his hand to test the weight. "Care to tell me what I'll be using it for? Aside from skewering you, perhaps."

Leo rolled his eyes. "Seriously? I don't have a lot of patience left."

"Really? Shame. I don't have a lot of relatives left."

He finally snapped. "You think I don't sympathise for you? This if the fourth assassination I've witnessed in as many weeks. I'm watching my family die, too. In fact, one of them went for my father earlier, and last week, my sister-" He bit his tongue, swallowing the rest of his rage. "The point is, I may not be running to give you a hug, but don't think for a moment that I don't care about people dying. I'm just a little preoccupied with stopping any more from dying. So, are you going to help me, or am I wasting my time?"

He expected a snide remark. He didn't get one.

"Alright. I'll help. But I can't do that unless I know what I'm helping with, so I think it's time I got an explanation."