Honour or Reason - Book 1# in the Burning Prince Chronicles

Chapter Ten

Brilyn was ordered to visit Conlaed at midnight. Jules- the prince's grave young servant - woke him without alerting the Guardian. It was a rare gift not to rouse Jarete. Bri went to change out of his bedclothes, when Jules muttered there was not enough time. So, the two of them entered the dark library, Brilyn barefoot in his bedclothes and Jules in his servant garb. A chill still crept down his spine as they tiptoed through the blackness. The servant was unfazed - Brilyn suspected it was because Jules had to stumble through dark hallways to his master frequently. They didn't speak as they hurried from the library into the castle halls. Jules offered no explanation on the scholar's peculiar summoning, but Brilyn managed to concoct numerous theories. None of them were good.

A tension was between the two, although Bri could not imagine why. He knew Jules and Conlaed were practically close friends; perhaps Con told his servant of his friend's betrayal. Still, Bri considered Jules reasonable - surely, if Con told him of Bri's broken promise, the servant would see the wisdom and care in the scholar's decision. He guessed that the tension only arose from unfamiliarity. The two rarely spoke to each other, not because of their positions but due to the simple fact that when Brilyn talked with the prince Jules was required to perform his chores. Bri regularly saw Jules around the grounds working, but he hadn't wanted to distract the servant or get him in trouble - and yes, also because Brilyn was too shy.

The castle was eerily quiet as they hurried toward Conlaed's chamber. Barely any guards were posted within the castle and servants were either asleep or tending to their masters and mistresses privately. Cold winds blew through open windows and caressed Brilyn's skin cruelly. Crows cawed outside, their screeches echoing gloomily about the castle. Beside him, he saw Jules flinch. The manservant's brown eyes were not sorrowfully soft as usual. No, they were hard and cold as stone. A sense of foreboding hovered over Brilyn as Jules led him not toward the wing with the prince's chambers, but toward the black as pitch gardens. He shuddered.

"We are going the wrong way, I fear," he said politely. Jules paused to glare.

"I did not say where the prince wished to meet, Milord. He wished to meet in the gardens."

"Right, I beg my pardon, Jules," Brilyn replied cheerfully as he could, fear rising up in his chest. His legs were weak as Jules led him into the dark gardens. Something was wrong, he could feel it in the air. Dread shadowed his heart and each step he took was a struggle. It wasn't like Conlaed to be so...secretive. Bri was sure the prince's chambers were perfectly safe to discuss matters concerning the Wraith and its task for the young prince, but if Con felt unsafe, he supposed it was wiser to meet somewhere more concealed from snakes. He hoped.

Dim moonlight shone down on the gardens and shrouded the flowers and trees in silver. The grass beneath Brilyn's feet was slick with midnight dew. It chilled his bare feet and sent chills up his already shivering legs. If only I'd had time to get a cloak. What was Con thinking, making us meet outside on the brink of Winter? He decided he would throttle the prince when he saw him. If he didn't throttle Brilyn first, of course. He wondered if that's why Con lured him into the secluded gardens at the dead of night - to kill him. Don't be stupid - he would never hurt me like that. Right? Bri shoved the horrid thought from his mind. He was being an idiot. The worst Conlaed would do was strike him - and he'd only ever seen Con strike Lorenzo, and he'd been mocking the prince's honour. That had been an amusing day.

Jules led him toward the enormous oak tree. It towered ahead of them, wet leaves glistening in the cool starlight. The chilly Autumn air rustled the leaves and a haunting melody, like the voices of the dead, filled the air around them. The hair on the back of Bri's neck stood up. He pondered if he could hear the voice of King Maxum haunting his supposed resting place. Conlaed wouldn't hear it. A crow cawed again, rebirthing Brilyn's feeling of dread. No other animal sounds could be heard, only the crow's call of death. He gazed about as they walked; there was no sign of the ghastly creature in the branches of the oak tree, nor in any other part of the gardens. Bri guessed it was flapping about in the darkness beyond.