"No, it can't be." Alana tugged at his arm and pushed his face towards her voice. "This is a joke, right? Sebastian—Son of Greed and Wrath—did not do that. That's an imposter you're describing—not my cousin. He couldn't have."
"Except that he did." Nick gave a little shrug. "Bear is mine now. He's helping me pack."
"Arf," Bear said, muffled, his snout in Nick's sock drawer. At least, that was where Nick hoped the pup was fetching socks. The dirty orphaned socks under his bed were not for Bear to touch or sniff.
"But why?" Alana asked.
"Bear enjoys fetching stuff. He's good at it too. Watch me—"
She tsk'ed him. "Muttonhead, I meant Seb. He loved Bear—never seen him happier. Why would he give his pup away?"
"I'm not sure," Nick said, reminiscing.
He had just been playing with Bear in the royal garden when Seb had walked up to them and had started a long rambling speech about Laneby, Lord Brandon, Abby, the army, the General, the magician that had taken Nick's eyes at Whitepeak and Fox. Then Seb had jumped to Alex and Billy, and how it was easy to blame him of all that had gone wrong, and that he was also partly to blame, but not all of it, but that he was still sorry.
In the end, Seb had stumbled over his words, mentioning Bear's teeth and the King's health, and how he needed to do what the Greenlanders expected him to do.
Seb had taken a deep breath, his voice cracking. "I want you to have Bear. He'll be happier in Ice, with you."
Nick had been too baffled to say anything in return. He had felt Seb's proximity, heard him talk to Bear, the pup yipping as his master said his goodbyes, then Seb's footsteps had turned away until they had faded completely.
Alana was right—this was not the Seb he knew.
"Have you seen him?" Nick asked Alana.
"No, you?" she returned the question.
Nick touched his face, snorting. "Of course, half an hour ago, with my two functioning eyes. He was admiring his peacock hair in front of the mirror in your chamber. He was thinking of bleaching his hair to honour Ice."
"Nick..."
He felt the hot breath of her sigh. "What? Think before you say anything."
"You're not being fair."
"What? It's not like you can forget I'm blind." Nick turned towards Bear, who had dropped two pairs of socks by his hands. When he sought the pup to give him a pat and a piece of meat, Bear pushed his head into the palm of Nick's hand. Bear never forgot. Him he could trust to remember and always be ready for him.
"Nick, I'm sorry." Alana's heels clicked. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed him against her soft bosom. Her cold hands tickled the narrow strip of naked skin that had formed on his lower back. Alright, Bear would never be able to do that. "All I can think about is that you're leaving tomorrow. Why can't Uncle River stay another fortnight, or another moon, until after the tournament?"
Nick laid his head on her shoulder. Today, she smelled of roses and honeysuckle; a hint of cinnamon too. "Your uncle doesn't seem like the type to enjoy watching bullheaded men crack open each other's skull for King and the motherland."
"And a shiny trophy," she added.
"I don't blame him. Who wants that, anyway?"
"I have no idea." She chuckled.
His hands slid down her back. "You could come with me to Ice. Visit your family in Bigtown."
"I wish I could, but I can't." As she exhaled, his face grew warmer because of it. "I really can't. Not with Papa and Seb..."
"Shhh."
As Nick nuzzled her neck, she stopped talking. His lips found her skin, below her pearl necklace, then above, and a third time close to her jawline. It was intoxicating—his body craved to give her another, and another, and another. Each one swifter, more secretive than the one before.
Her nose touched his, a soft bump, bone against bone. He raised his head and lowered his hands further. For a moment, it appeared as he could see the blush on her porcelain skin, the diamond tiara in her black hair, radiant. Her deep blue eyes glinted with mischief. Her white teeth biting her rosy lips.
The darkness returned as he imagined the King walking in on them. King Thomas would kick him so hard, he would land on the roof of the School of the Four Other Senses.
"I shouldn't," he said. "Your father..."
"Since when do you care about what Papa thinks?"
Nick raised his shoulders. Had he been anyone else, this would have been treason.
"Then shut up and kiss me."
As he moved forward, their lips united, their hands everywhere. His pulse quickened, and so did hers. He couldn't get over the absurdity. She was Princess Alana, he the blind Cadet who had rather become a librarian and who would travel to Ice to regain his sight so he could take his place as King Sebastian's General. In a decade or so, when their story would be written down, the truth would be twisted. History would speak of a miracle healing, a blessing from the Gods.
Nick didn't care; he was in the Seven Heavenly Halls, all seven at once. She was there with him, sharing the taste of biscuits, of honey, of fresh apple juice and bacon in the morning. All his favourite things, but better. Nobody to distu...
"Arf-arf, arf-arf,arf-arf," Bear yelped. His paws pattered against the floor.
Not now, Bear.
The barking continued, moving towards the door. "Arf-arf, njarf, arf-arf. Njarf. Njarf."
A warning.
Still engrossed by the joys that the Goddess of Lust offered, Nick continued kissing Alana, his ears perked. There was a noise in the hallway, not the usual marching rhythm of the guards or the steady pace of the servants rushing from one room to the other. It was softer, much softer.
But it was there.
Reluctantly, he pulled away from Alana and turned towards Bear.
"Nick, what's wrong?" she asked.
"There's someone."
She inhaled a sharp breath, then grabbed him by the arm and forced him back towards her. She wiped her fingers over his mouth, wet and tasty. "Unless you wish to explain why you have pink lipstick on your face."
He touched his mouth. Her scent on his fingers left him flustered.
"Whoever wonders why I'm here—I'm helping you pack," Alana said. She paced towards his closet and opened it.
"Yeah," Nick said, still dazed. "Yeah, you're helping me pack."
"Arf, arf, arf, njaaarf," Bear barked. "Njarf. Arf."
Nick patted his thighs. "Come here, Bear."
Just as Nick sat down on the corner of his bed, Bear jumped on his lap and licked his face. He couldn't help but chuckle. From a Princess' kiss to a dog's kiss.
A knock on the door.
Bear arfed twice.
"Who is it?" Nick asked.
Bear arfed again, overpowering the voice. He leapt down and returned to the door. His nails against the wood, scratching, wailing said enough.
Seb.
"Bear, stay," Nick said firmly.
The wailing and the scratching stopped.
"Now come back here."
"Njaaaaarf," Bear protested.
"Bear..." Nick repeated. He tapped his mattress.
Click-click went Bear's nails against the floor. He peeped submissively, then jumped up, his noise against Nick's hand.
"Good Bear." Nick dug into his pocket and rewarded him with a piece of meat. He was rubbing the pup's back when he shouted, "What do you want, Seb?"
"Can I come in?" Seb's voice was hesitant, almost voiceless.
Nick showed no remorse. "No."
"Nicolas," Alana hissed.
He raised his hands. "I'm a man of my word. I said I never wanted him near me. He can stay behind the door. I hear him perfectly."
"Did you forget the part where he gave you Bear?"
"I'm blind, not stupid." He continued stroking Bear.
"Sometimes I doubt that." She dumped clothes on the bed. "Get in here, Seb."
"Are you sure?" Seb asked.
"No," Nick replied.
"Yes," Alana said, using her authoritative voice.
Nick grumbled. He didn't overrule her.
When Seb shuffled in, Bear moved forward then stayed put, arfing and njarfing. Seb's presence conflicted the pup, and if Nick had to be honest to himself, it conflicted him too. He released Bear, allowing the dog to greet his former master.
"I told River about our arrangement," Seb said as Bear made licking noises and happy yips. "Normally when a Mountain Dog changes owner, the name has to be changed. But since you'll be hundreds of leagues away, and I'll be... here, he said you could keep the name if you want."
"But what will happen upon my return to Sundale?" Nick asked. New names for Bear flew through his mind. Lewis, Lucas, Rupert, Gideon, George. Alex could be a boy's name too. "Do I need to leave him in Bigtown?"
"No, I only had him for a short while, and he's a pup. He might remember me, but he'll always listen to you instead of me." Seb stopped, attempting to hide a whimper.
Bear let out a long arf.
"You could have told me this during dinner," Nick said.
"I won't be there. Master Martin had made the final adaptions to the treaty of Sundale. Uncle Tom wants me there for the last read-through and the signing ceremony."
"So, the ladies and I will have a quiet dinner then?"
"Looks like it, yeah," Seb said.
"It won't look like anything," Nick mocked. Were they doing it on purpose?
"What?"
"I'm blind, Muttonhead. Everything is a giant shadow."
Seb gnashed his teeth, then swallowed audibly. "I hope Bear, or however you want to name him, will bring you the happiness you deserve, Nick. I'm sorry for everything. I hope you'll think better of me in the future."
Nick scratched at a crust between his eyes. If he could use them, he would turn to Alana and watch her disapproving gaze. He didn't actually need to see to feel her disappointment. Or perhaps it was his own disappointment that gnawed at him. All tragedies had revolved around Seb and his family, but Seb couldn't be blamed for everything that had gone wrong. His family was gone because of King Ariel, Alex and Billy because of a storm, and his sight... he should blame himself for that too, shouldn't he? Coming in between a Fire Magician and her flame.
Seb was already walking away from him.
"Wait," Nick said. He waited for the turning of feet. "I already think better of you. Thank you for Bear. I think I'll keep his name. Each time I'll call for him, I'll remember who gave him to me. He'll be my eyes until—" He cut off the sentence, unsure whether Seb knew that part of the plan. "Thank you."
"It had to be done." Seb's voice was still quiet. Cryptic even.
"Did your uncle force you to give Bear to me?"
"Uncle Tom?" Seb's surprise was genuine. "No. He... I decided for myself."
"Until tomorrow then. I guess I could smell you one last time before I leave." He ignored Alana tutting him, only imagined the playfulness of her eye-roll.
"Yeah, tomorrow," Seb said, distracted. "See you tomorrow."
It sounded like a lie.
Nick wasn't surprised when there was no Seb waving him and Prince River off the following morning.
When he asked about Seb's whereabouts, Queen Crystal muttered something about Seb locking Lady Viviane out of his chamber after a long sulking session. The First Chamberlady had given up, and so had the Queen.
King Thomas, clammy with the mixture of the light drizzle that the skies were sending down and the fever that gripped him, shrugged Nick's remark away. "You know how he is. I'll ask him to write."
"I can't read, Your Majesty," Nick muffled. Bear arfed from the carriage down the steps of the castle. "Not since the accident."
"Regular handwriting, yes. But as a military man, you should know alternatives exist." A short chuckle.
Nick wracked his brain, distracted by the rain, a yapping Bear, by the Queen and Prince River chatting in a speedy singsong dialect that had a lot of strong consonants, and by a man joining the royal family outside, out of breath. He recalled quite a few cryptographic methods from his days in the Academy: the quadrant of General Jeffrey, the invisible ink, the key encryption. All involved vision.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Your Majesty."
"I told you he'd never guess, Papa," Lana jested.
"Night Writing." The King pushed something in Nick's hands. A heavy rectangular object. Paper. Pages. A book. "It'll be something to keep you busy on the long journey."
Before Nick could open the book and find out about this mysterious 'Night Writing', Alana flung her arms around him, briefly brushing her fingers against his ear. She whispered. "Papa and I stayed up all night to craft a letter for you. Between pages 236 and 237—it's important. Don't tell Uncle River what it's about."
Craft?
Captain Jonathan grabbed Nick's hand and shook it, still out of breath. "My best Cadet to Ice," he boasted. "To another school. The sky weeps with me, Nicolas."
"I'll never have a better teacher than you, Captain." Nick stroked the old man's ego.
"Stay away from the magicians," Captain Jonathan muttered.
Not wanting to lie, Nick merely smiled.
He waited for River to say his goodbyes, half-wishing Seb would appear after all. A bad feeling settled in his gut but he shrugged it off. Seb didn't want to see Bear, too afraid to cry when the pup disappeared from view. The Sundalers already found him a weakling, and he was one. No wonder he hid like a crybaby instead of swallowing the pain like a real man.
The musical dialect stopped. River laid his hand on Nick's shoulder. Together they descended the stairs. Under some loud goodbyes and wishes of a safe journey, as well as Bear's guiding barks, River aided Nick onto the carriage's bench.
River sat down next to him, not saying anything. He clacked the reins, after which their carriage began to move. Before exchanging the smooth terrain of the market square for the bumpy cobblestones of Main Street, four sets of hooves joined them, clip-clopping rhythmically. Soldiers of Sundale.
"Hi, Nicky, that has been a while," said a voice on his left.
"Bart—is that you?" With a huge smile on his face, Nick greeted his old Serjeant.
"And he's not alone." A second familiar voice, not quite as deep as Bart's.
"Dan?"
"No, I'm here," said Dan. He rode on Prince River's side.
"Then it's Eric. What are you doing here?"
"Guarding your ugly face," Dan hooted.
"Hey, at least I don't have to see your ugly faces anymore," Nick retorted. "Who's the fourth rider? Sam?"
"No, his name is Ian. He's the new you," Eric said.
"A new Cadet?"
"No, the new quiet boy." Eric chuckled.
Nick joined in the laughter. He stopped when he realised this was the first time he saw his comrades since he had left the army camp. "I'm sorry about all the commotion. And that I never mentioned I'm the King's ward. I didn't want you guys to treat me any differently."
"I knew," Bart said.
"We all knew, Nicky," Dan said. "It never mattered to us. In the army, the only rank that counts are the sycamore leaves on your uniform."
Nick grew quiet. He felt like a Muttonhead.
Outside the city gates, the riders rode further in front and behind the carriage. The road was smoother, the weather rougher. The wind blew through his clothes, which made him shiver. Bear leapt onto his lap and settled against the book Nick was pressing against his stomach, both giving off the warmth he needed.
"If you think this is cold, you're going to freeze up north, boy," Prince River chided. "A bad spring day in Sundale is the best day of summer in Bigtown."
"I'll get used to it," Nick said. He had Bear to keep him warm.
Prince River gave a short snort.
When the rain stopped, Nick patted the free space on his right, signalling Bear to move to the bench. After giving the pup a treat, he opened the mysterious book and looked into its direction.
Shadows. Just the same old shadows.
He moved from the bench to the carriage itself, sitting uncomfortably in the darker shadow, against some cases that poked him in the back. Once more, he looked at the book. Nothing. Did he have to wait for the sun to set before he could read this mysterious 'Night Writing'?
Bear panted in his face. His paws on the book.
"No, Bear. Not right now."
Yet as he pushed the animal off, the palm of his hand brushed against the paper. It was uneven, rough. As if the letters laid layered on the page.
He fingered them, finding not letters but dots, dashes, and slashes. Finley's code, not written out for a horn to blow, but written out to feel. The first word he deciphered was 'Edward', then 'was', and 'unprepared'. Soon he managed to read the entire paragraph his fingers had found.
While Edward was unprepared, his determination to drive the Silvermarkers back to the border was great. He forced his army to stand as the enemy charged with demonic powers. The iron held.
Even though Nick gladly wanted to read his first book in moons, duty forced him to flip the pages in search of Lana's letter.
Bear sniffed the envelope, uttering a questioning arf.
Nick hushed him. He turned the letter until the points of the sycamore leaf on the seal were pointing upwards, then tore it. At first, he felt only gibberish. The dots above the dashes, then the dashes too long. He turned the page until he could detect a sensible word.
- .-. . .- - -.--
Treaty
He went more to the left to find the first word, feeling every dot, dash, and slash, seeing the words flash before his eyes.
Uncle River will present the Treaty of Sundale as a success to Grandpa Alder. While it represents economic stability and growth between our two nations, the military aspect failed. Unconventional tactics must now be pursued to make Uncle River turn to us once more. We have reason to believe Uncle Storm is going in league with King Ariel. Wait for Uncle Storm to return from Moondale. End the Ician neutrality. Let the war start up north—kill the King of Ice and blame it on Ariel.
Nick felt light in the head.
"Are you making anything of that book?" Prince River asked from the bench.
"No... no... all gibberish." Nick stuffed the letter in the bag of Bear's treats. His dog would need to help to make it disappear, to remove all traces of its existence. "I got carriage sick. I'm... just gonna lie here for a while, wait for it to pass."
"It's because you're blind," Prince River said bluntly.
Blind and dead.
How could Alana ask him this?