Thus, the chamber they had all discovered, the one containing relics from a purged era of history, became a place of meeting.
It was rather convenient, Rex felt, and was glad that Xatho had proposed this solution. Here, they would not be disturbed. They could train, read about forbidden things, and practice forbidden magyk. Most importantly, they could hide in plain sight.
The next day found them all gathered in the chamber – dubbed the Hall by Athol ("This way, if we reference the secret room in public, it will appear completely innocuous!") – where they all claimed a favourite chair or corner.
Each and every one of them wore the red cloaks. It made them stand out like the red flowers of mourning. Instead of instilling dread, however, Rex felt that it connected them to one another. They all had chosen to wear the cloak that symbolized a promise to live, to thrive. Despite an unalterable past and a hostile present, every person in the Hall had chosen to pursue the most forbidden act.
"As such," Ander was theorizing, hands animated and striding back and forth, "there is no conceivable way that we will be caught. Given the contents of this room, we know that it was used by the Riders of old. I am sure they safeguarded this gathering space, making it so that only they could enter. I mean, Rex, you've never found this place before – right?"
"No, which is admittedly strange," Rex answered from his armchair. There were many corners and nooks of the Gray Palace he had not explored yet, that was for certain. Yet he ought to have at least heard of such a room, whether through gossip or through vague references in tomes.
"See? I believe that this room is protected from all but Riders – that is, even adepts. The only reason we were able to enter was because, to all intents and purposes, we are now Riders. Which is a rather ludicrous idea, true, but old magyk can be idiosyncratic."
"The Hall is secure; that's all I am concerned about. Likely, we will never learn the true origins of this place nor its magyks. If no-one knows it exists, and is somehow protected by the Forbidden Magyk, that is protection enough," Xatho replied curtly.
True safety within these walls. A novel idea, to be certain. It just might be correct, however, Rex thought.
"Now that we've ascertained the safety of the Hall, can we start practising? Unlike Ander, or even Rex, I have never truly used my magyk – purposely, that is. I want to learn how to muffle conversations, how to create light in the dark –" that part, his voice trembled slightly – "and so much more!" Athol enthused passionately.
"Very good idea," Rex responded quietly. Ander's knowledge and ability was awe-inspiring, and made him want to continue learning what had once repulsed him.
"Books..." Ander protested, pouting. He gestured to the tomes stacked around him. "Knowledge!"
It was true, Rex acknowledged to himself. The draw of such information was undeniable. Of real, hopefully more accurate knowledge. He had managed to return the tome to the Vault, but with all the chaos of the last few weeks, had not been fruitful in attempts to borrow another. Here, there was no need for subterfuge. Yet...
"We can read on our own time, in our rooms," Adrien replied. "However, we cannot practice the Forbidden Magyk in the halls of the Gray Palace. We already take a great risk practising on the grounds, with our dragons. We do not necessarily need them for this."
"If we practice here, just ourselves, and then with our dragons, we would make more progress." That was Xatho, practical as always.
"Alright. Ander, these books can wait. I can start with my little trick, since it is rather easy, and then you can lead us for the rest," Rex spoke, trying to be confident and commanding. It did not quite work, but the rest rose when he did; Rex took it as a victory.
"Right," he gulped. Those his age had never looked at him with eagerness, waiting for him to do something other than outright failure. Very strange, and nerve-wracking.
Breathe. I am water, smooth and calm. "The trick is intent. Like with any sorcery. Breathe in, and let your magyk flow through you. Palms and forearms should be prickling – the magyk wanting out, wanting to be used it. Harness it.
"Now, visualize your words, yourselves – the way I do it, a bubble surrounds me. That is a barrier between yourself and any individuals. Nothing can escape the bubble – no words, no sounds. Sometimes, I feel that I can actually see the bubble shimmering around me."
"Like this?" Adrien said – or at least, Rex thought he said so, for no words could be heard. He was mouthing silently, his magyk surrounding him. Rex was surprised at first that Adrien was the first to learn it; but then, if there are no preconceived notions, it is easy to learn – and learn quickly. There is a rush, and then a plateau. Since Adrien was at the beginning, he would be making very good progress for a time.
"Yes," Rex nodded. Xatho was the second one to succeed, face scrunched in concentration, silently snarling. His magyk, the blue of the four lines while Adrien's had been iridescent green, also surrounded him. It snaked around his arms, sparked around his head, and twirled around his legs.
Athol, the next one to succeed, was much the same as his brother. His magyk was noble blue and coiled around his frame. He was also the first to drop the enchantment, now audibly panting with exertion. Right after Adrien also lost his hold and joined Athol in a heap on the ground. Xatho managed to hold on – barely. The effort was so much that he fell to his knees, unable to support himself fully while maintaining the enchantment.
Rex felt that staring at Xatho, who was doing as well as expected, would be counterproductive. Thus he instead focused on Ander, who was still struggling. It made sense, in a way. Ander was ostentatious; he had presence.
He lounged instead of sitting, preferred to draw attention, and was open with his disdain in public. It was an act, just like they all had their own acts, but it was grounded in who he was. For someone like that, hiding in this manner was counter-productive. Hiding one's cursed birth was self-preservation – this, in the moment, was not.
"Remember, a bubble. You are air, you are silent, you are a shadow. Much like the Queendom warriors, who are deadly and unseen. Breathe in, and visualize." Ander would accomplish the technique – he was stubborn enough, and well-versed in sorcery.
"I...can't..." Xatho gasped, finally dropping the enchantment. Athol pulled him up, patting his arm and praising his efforts. All Xatho could do was nod and try to catch his breath. Overextending oneself was sadly a consequence of utilizing the Forbidden Magyk, given that it came from within. Hard to know one's limit when deliberately not experimenting or training.
"Wait –" Ander called out, words cutting off as amber magyk – the same colour as the flames he'd produced – slowly writhed around him.
"You did it!" Rex beamed proudly. "I knew you could." Naturally, now that he understood how to perform the trick, Ander was able to hold it indefinitely. Ander beamed back.
Soon, the rest staggered to their feet and tried again – this time focusing on holding it for longer periods of time. Rex walked around, trying to find words to say "great job" without sounding trite.
"One of the most important parts of the enchantment is doing it without your magyk being visible. Otherwise, it limits how, when and where you can silence yourself. It will take practice, for sure."
"Another time, we will focus on that," Athol nodded, having dropped the enchantment once more.
Ander was the only one not physically exerting himself, cheekily sitting and maintaining his amber magyk.
"Enough," Rex called after a time. The bell could not be heard here, and none of them had time-keeping devices, so he was guessing. "You know how it works now. We will continue working on the enchantment later."
"Alright," Ander acquiesced, lowering the enchantment for the second time only.
Through unanimous consensus, they all heaved themselves to nearby chairs or couches to rest. Rex had not physically exerted himself like the others, but even the act of being the instructor was enough to leave him drained and exhausted and slightly numb.
"Why is it that rest days are the busiest?" Athol grumbled. "Rather counterproductive, no?"
"Fridays are when most tasks are completed, because there is nothing else to attend to. No lessons, no meetings, no sparring. A day where you have a freedom to choose what to do. The only obligation is to visit temple if you practice regular worship to the gods," Adrien answered good-humoredly. A yawn immediately followed his words. "Thus, you find yourself most tired on rest days."
"'Tis the human psyche," Ander added sagely. Athol responded by manually throwing an embroidered pillow at his smug visage.
Rex began snickering at the outraged look Ander was making, and started to laugh uncontrollably, having to smother his reaction in a pillow. Now was not the time for hysterics. The numbness that had settled around him fled, especially as Adrien began laughing as well. Soon, all of them were doubled up in mirth, even Ander.
"Ahh," Xatho sighed, usually stern voice still holding an edge of amusement. "Rex," he began, startling him. "I wonder...have you named your dragon yet?"
Rex froze. His happiness immediately evaporated, and the numbness returned in full force. A brittle numbness, liable to shatter into a thousand edges at the smallest pressure.
"No," he finally breathed, voice flat and deadened. "It is such a huge responsibility, and I do not wish to neglect it. Names... are important, especially when given from one to another."
"Well, when you converse with your dragon, have you asked him about his other names?" Adrien asked quietly. He meant well, Rex knew, but the question still rankled. Of course he had thought about it already, of course he had asked! Breathe, he reminded himself.
"My dragon has already been bonded before, that I know, though I have not asked their names or his own. I do not wish to infringe on the past." It was better than telling the entire truth.
"Fair enough," Ander drawled from his perch. "'Tis the act of a thoughtful person. I am sure the right name will come soon enough. Yet, as my uncle always says, the lack is worse than hated presence. In the end, I believe, your dragon will be happy to have a name from you, regardless of what it is – regardless if it's horrible or not. Just a thought."
Rex understood Ander's point, no matter how grudgingly. It had been weeks since their first meeting, and his dragon did deserve a name. Anxiety gnawed through him as the burden of naming became even more urgent.
Just as Rex was sure he would crumble, right then and there in front of peers who had not ignored or derided him and would now think him pathetic and useless and hate him forever more – a familiar sound broke through his panicked thoughts.
"Did anyone think to bring sustenance?" Xatho asked sheepishly as his stomach growled again.
The tension broke, and Rex felt a tiny bit of mirth trickle back in.
"Oh." That was what he had forgotten. Rex had remembered to bring his cloak, but no nourishment for what would be a day spent practising all sorts of enchantments.
"I will take that as a no?" Xatho replied miserably, clutching his stomach. Now that Xatho mentioned it, Rex realized how hungry he was – and that every-one else must be even hungrier. He had not been practising, after all.
"That is a no," Rex spoke for the group as they all looked at each other with faces of surprise and reprimand, the kind that said, "I thought you would have taken charge of it!"
While it was hard to keep track of time in the Hall, Rex knew that there was much of the day left. If they wanted to keep practising enchantments, especially those that Ander would teach them, they needed food. Already Xatho and the others had used up much of their energy! Not to mention, they were of the Four Lines; they were used to regular meals that were filling, even Rex.
"I will bring back sustenance," he finally said. He did not want to run to the kitchens – even though it would be nice to at least see Cook, if not talk with her – but someone had to.
"Alright," Athol agreed.
"In the meantime, while I did not think to bring any food, I did bring something..." Adrien took out an almost-clear vial, whose contents seemed to glitter in the purple lights. Crystal Evening, a very potent poison favoured by the Vicomtes and the noble houses.
"Ooh!" Everyone exclaimed in appreciation. "Since I gather that most of you are not very familiar with Crystal Evening, I recommend only a few sips. Also," Adrien spoke directly to Rex, "we'll save you some."
Warmth suffused Rex at those words, but he thankfully did not blush. His light brown skin did him no favours in that regard – it was always very easy to tell when he was blushing. "Alright."
Eager to be back in the Hall, which felt inviting and safe, Rex hurried down the corridor. Getting back to the parts of the Gray Palace he was familiar with took a bit of time, but once there it was quick work to arrive at the kitchens.
As always, it was bustling, and Cook's hot buns were in their regular spot. "Perfect," he whispered to himself. Must bring enough for every-one.
Just as he was about to exit, buns bundled up in kerchiefs and held to his chest, Cook followed him out.
Rex clutched his bundle even tighter, jaw clenching and brows furrowing. Was something wrong? Cook would never up and leave her post unless for a dire reason, not with how busy the kitchens were these days.
"Hello. It has been a while," she said softly, leading him to an alcove.
The official head of the palace kitchens and the unofficial head of most of the palace staff was a large woman with laugh crinkles around her eyes and frown lines around her mouth. Her hugs, Rex could attest, were solid and warm, a comforting presence in a harsh world. He had two years until he became too old for such things, and Rex was going to make the most of them.
A familiar, soothing hug later, Cook graced him with one of her rare smiles. "Nothing's wrong, little king," she reassured him. "I merely wanted to see you. It has been a while."
"It has," he murmured.
"You know, it has come to my attention that you are frequenting the other heirs of the Four Lines. I am glad their presence here has proven beneficial for purposes other than moulding children into hardened leaders." At that, Rex chuckled despite himself.
He had not really thought about the consequences of now being in the presence of others whom he had previously resented, and how odd it would seem without the context.
"We have...similar interests, it turns out," Rex babbled. Lying outright to Cook was not one of his strengths. "Like, sword fighting, and books..."
Another smile, a brief squeeze of his right shoulder, and the one adult who gave a damn about him – without having expectations – was back in her proper domain. Rex should have been hurrying back to the Hall, food in tow, yet he stood transfixed in the alcove. Cook's presence and her words had sparked a memory, of an old children's story he had come across before his first decade. "Purposes other..." There had been a character with a beautiful name – Abraxan.
Suddenly, Rex knew exactly which name to gift his dragon with. That night, after a day of practising enchantments that left him drained both physically and in his mind, he stood on the same wall he had used to run away once.
"I bestow on thee, my other half, a gift from mine own heart. Abraxan of Thallium," Rex spoke proudly, attempting to not mangle the words his dragon – Abraxan – had taught him. 'Well met, my princeling,' Abraxan responded.