Fate and Destiny (The Fated Series, #2)

Chapter 35 - Lance - A Hidden Future

Every Jade Assassin I called back from their missions two months ago is still here. Thanks to Rykiel, the House of Jade is still up and running smoothly. I tried convincing him to become the Jade King all day yesterday, and each time he refused and changed the subject to another matter at hand.

When I told the Bhaltayr that they could stay at the keep, I didn't take into account how many people were already crowding the house and the spare rooms below. I hated the idea of doing so, but I split them up and allowed them to sleep in my parent's old room and the room my father converted into his own after he couldn't go into the other one. I couldn't walk into the latter, and the former just had dust everywhere which is still technically an upgrade to the cold nights we'd spend while traveling in between inns.

My first morning back home, and I'm already tired.

It's dawn, and I'm up early so that I can be awake for when Alex, Neven, and Melody arrive. The others are likely asleep, and if they're not, then they're probably already somewhere downstairs eating, so that's where I go first. I smell breakfast the moment I open my bedroom door, and it only smells better the closer I get to the dining room. With so many people here, cook always sets the food on the long table where everyone can easily serve themselves. No one sits at it, and I'm surprised when I don't find more than a few early birds stocking their plates before the rest of the house awakes.

They set their right fists across their chests in greeting, and I cringe for about the thousandth time. I'm so used to people doing that when they see my father, not me. Rykiel did mention that since I'm now the Jade King, I could simply order that no one do that upon me entering a room. I've never been one for orders, but maybe gently and slowly stopping the habit wouldn't hurt. If it were my sister, she'd be wearing a crown and waltzing about the house all day just so she could see people do it over and over again.

Having already been spotted and not wanting to make the small confrontation any more awkward, I force myself to grab a plate and stack it with just bacon. It's the first thing to go in this place, and bacon is my favorite. Not to mention that it'll give me something to snack on while I search for where my companions went seeing as they're not here. They would've done as I had the second they scented the food.

I head back upstairs, following my original theory that they're all still sleeping. I head to my parent's room first while I muster up the confidence to open my father's door. Despite it being two months, I can still smell his scent everywhere. It's probably why I turned half of my room into my office last night while I dealt with a few matters Rykiel hadn't gotten to yet. I can't even look down the eastern hall without getting queasy.

Opening the bedroom door, I don't hear any sound that would indicate them being awake, so I walk in. Everything but the piano has its sheet removed and tossed against a wall in a lump. I open the double doors to the bedroom but find the bed still untouched and no one occupying its space. I check the bathroom too but come up empty.

Eating my fifth piece of bacon, I leave and walk across the hall to my father's room. I chow down another four pieces before I wipe the grease off my hand and open the door. Just like the other room, this one lies untouched and empty. Well, not entirely empty.

There are still papers on Father's desk, each covered in his handwriting that despite it always being rushed, was perfectly legible and even pleasing to the eyes. The ends of his letters always curve back up slightly, and the words that he used all the time are written in one line from his pen not lifting from the paper. I bought him a quill once because I thought it'd make him look more formal with it in his hand - and old, but he was never supposed to know that, - but it didn't last long. My father glared when I placed it on his desk on his birthday, but I saw the corner of his mouth twitch upward more times than once. He used it for a day, then placed it and its ink on the mantel in his office on display. Last I saw, it was still laying there, the ends of the feather splitting and losing its color after years of not being used.