Chapter 35

Cybele was bouncing on the bed. Masonae wished he could hide under it. How had things gotten so mixed up? After Valdin had praised him for completing Orin’s quest for him, the prince had said nothing. He had sat there, absently chewing food with a glazed look over his face. The rest of the feast had been a blur of accolades, none of which Masonae deserved.
After all, he really hadn’t completed the quest for Orin. It had just happened. Masonae wasn’t the one who had set off by himself across the plains. He’d just tagged along. It was a simple suggestion that had Cybele agreeing to come with him. Masonae just wanted to get back home and figure out what he wanted to do with his life.
Because if it included wearing these stupid clothes, he wanted no part in it. He was already beginning to feel hemmed in by the castle walls, and there were way too many people around, watching him. At first he thought they thought he would steal something. Then he realized, they all wanted to do things for him. He could hardly lift a finger for himself without one of them jumping in. How did Orin put up with all these annoyances?
“What in the world are you wearing?”
Masonae turned around to see his father giving Pylon a good scratch. He was still young, lacking the façade that Masonae was used to seeing. No bits of grey to lighten his hair, or hard edges to his face. There was nothing left to hide now that Masonae knew his parents would remain the same age forever.
“I borrowed it. They wouldn’t give me back my boots.” Masonae looked down at his feet to discover he indeed was wearing his boots, and his own trousers and shirt, fresh and clean. “Thanks.”
“Don’t get used to it. Your mother and I had a conversation.”
“Is she mad at me?”
“No madder than I am.”
“Are you mad at me?” Sometimes it was difficult to tell.
“No madder than I am with myself.” That was probably good news.
“I’m sorry, if that makes a difference.”
“So am I.”
“I just, well I couldn’t let him go off alone. I mean, he’ll probably make a good king, but your lives depended on it.”
“I know. You found the seed?”
Masonae pointed to the bed, where Cybele was still bouncing.
“That’s her. I think Orin still has the map. Are you going to find the other seeds from the other trees?”
Malek stared at her for a moment, his head moving up and down timed with each bounce.
“I’ll send Lasser and Iber to come pick her up in the morning. Are you ready to come home?” It wasn’t an order, Masonae realized. It wasn’t even a suggestion. His father was leaving the decision completely up to him.
“Perhaps tomorrow. I’ve got a few things to iron out. Besides, I know the way home.”
Malek smiled wryly. “All roads still lead home.” He nodded to his son and then blinked out of sight.
There was a loud imperious knock at the door a second before it swung open. Brother Valdin smiled broadly at him before giving him a once over.
“My dear Masonae, what are you wearing?”
“My clothes.”
“Yes, I can see that. Well, I suppose you can’t continue to borrow Orin’s clothes. He’s still taller than you, but I bet you’re still growing. We’ll have to buy you a whole new wardrobe.” Valdin swept farther into the room, keeping a wary distance from the fire where Pylon and Snult slept.
“I’m fine with the clothes I have. My mom’s a tailor, you know. She loves to make things for me.”
“Oh, but their hardly fit for court, and you will be spending a lot of time here from now on.”
“Actually I was thinking about going home for a while.”
“No, no, no, my boy. Your future is here. I have great plans for you.”
“Is that so?”
“Does she have to do that?” Valdin said, turning his eyes to Cybele. He thought better of it put his smile back on his face. “She can do anything she likes tonight. Tomorrow, you are going with us to take her to the Calca tree.” Masonae had planned to go anyway. He had promised Cybele trees and he wanted to deliver.
“Now here is the way things are planned. Prince Orin will meet with an unfortunate accident that will delay him. You, my boy, will deliver the girl to the tree, and complete the quest. Imagine being an equal. No more than an equal. You will be the future king instead of the bumbling idiot. How does that sound?”
Masonae opened his mouth to reply to Valdin’s ridiculous suggestion when suddenly the logs in the fireplace came crashing down. Their heads turned toward the hearth but Masonae could only see embers and ashes. It gave him the time to think, before responding.
“When I’m king, I can change the laws, right?”
“Of course. That’s what kings do?”
“And I can tell people what to wear?”
“Yes.”
“And I can ban broccoli if I want to?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay.”
“Good boy.” Valdin grinned broadly and bowed. “Good evening, Your Highness.” He swept out of the room the same way he had entered.
“Who does that idiot think he’s kidding?” Snult said, shaking the ashes from his scales and stepping out of the fireplace. “I have a mind to roast him on the spot.”
“Why did he pick me to be king?” Masonae wondered to himself.
“Because he has hated Deseda from the moment she won the contest… mainly because he hates the Great Mages.”
Masonae laughed at the irony of it all. “So the one stooge he picks to be his puppet king happens to be the only son of the Great Mages he so desperately despises.”
Snult grinned. “And now that we know his plan.”
“It will be simple to protect Prince Orin from his unfortunate accident, and see that he is the one that brings Cybele to the Calca tree, and not me.”
“Yeah, but that broccoli bit was a little over the top.”
“It was all I could think of.”
“Yeah, I almost got ashes up my nose trying so hard not to laugh.”