The Midnight Storm (A New Dawn #2)

Chapter 18 - Sebastian

Pale Rabbit did not disappoint. Twelve hours after he had cornered her in the alley between the winery and Aunt Crystal's parlour, asking for a steady supply of poppy potions, she entered his chamber. Soundlessly, she cleared the half-empty jug of water and the plate of now-stale biscuits from his desk and replaced them with a breakfast of grains and sweet beans. She bit her lip as she looked at him. "The g-g-gauntlet of Ki-King Edward is h-h-hollow. He fav-favoured his lef... left hand."

Sebastian nodded in understanding. Still having time before Lady Viviane would barge in to dress him, he slipped out of his room and sneaked to the Hall of Heroes. The place was deserted; not a guard in sight. 

The morning sun shone through the yellow-tinted glass, Lord Malcolm, including stump and stead, resembled gold instead of marble. It looked uglier than the last time he had been here. Once Alex had come back from defeating the pirates, she would get her own lifelike statue here; not on a strangely proportioned horse but carrying her inseparable bow in her hands. The material would have to be jade, like the bust of a balding General with large ears and bushy eyebrows that stood in his own spacious alcove.

In the next alcove stood the ornate armour of King Edward. It had been placed on a low pedestal that allowed Sebastian to touch every part of the armour save for the helmet. The iron of the sabatons was entirely black, the leg pieces decreasingly dark grey. The breastplate dented, and a large crack ran across the pauldron; the result of an Earth Magician hitting him.

His great-grandfather had been the last Greenlander King to see a battlefield up close. With an army of seven thousand men, he had fought off the terror of King Tigris on the Scorching Plains, but had paid for that victory six moons later when the festering wound on his shoulder has poisoned his blood. A moon later, Grandpa William had been born, already a King, though the balding General he had just passed, General Charles—he now remembered his name, had ruled until Grandpa's sixteenth birthday.

Keeping one eye closed, Sebastian peered into the bottom opening of the left vambrace but saw only darkness. He dug his fingers into the hole. In the gauntlet's thumb, he found a small vial and took it out. 

The thought that the Gods were on his side had barely occurred when in the distance a door creaked open. He ducked behind the pedestal, the cream-coloured vial clutched to his chest. Two pairs of footsteps slowly came closer, the voices of Lana and Healer Mark sounding louder.

"... everything for Nick," she said, her voice as passionate as always. "I refuse to marry a prince. They're either my cousins, our enemy, a witless muttonhead, or a Scorian whose mother is still in league with Wrath because Uncle Bran ran off with Aunt Karen instead of her. Personally, I would settle for George, but Papa instantly turns pale and green each time I mention a potential betrothal. Nick must become the next General—he's the only husband Mama, Papa, and I can agree on."

"First he must survive his fever, My Lady." Healer Mark halted in the golden morning shade of Lord Malcolm. He turned around, facing the window. "And even if the fever breaks, his wounds are severe..."

"But do you think he'll be able to see again? It's not like Papa and his ear, Nick would be useless blind."

"He'll still have his wit and all the other qualities that make you love him, My Lady."

"Love has nothing to do with it," Lana hissed. "Without his eyes, he can't become a General. He can't become my husband."

"You wouldn't be the first royal with a lover on the side."

"And create a mess like Uncle Bran did?" She snorted, referring to Fox. "Bastards turn the tides of history—I'll read it, not make it. Thank you very much."