Read The Castrofax Online

Authors: Jenna Van Vleet

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The Castrofax (5 page)

BOOK: The Castrofax
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His cousin had once been tolerable, or so
Balien convinced himself, but once his mother took the throne, he
became drunk with the power of commanding her armies. Nolen was
used to getting what he wanted. He wore the finest brocades, drank
the best vintages, and wooed—or coerced when necessary—the
loveliest ladies to his bed. It was often too necessary. Balien
took a draught of his wine to wash the thought away. The Prince had
a sadistic reputation, and Balien had seen many maids leave his
rooms with bruises or worse.

Balien folded his hands across his
red-and-gold coat and suppressed a smile.
‘Just wait until Robyn
takes the throne,’
he thought.
‘She will not put up with
your nonsense.’
Months off yet, it was still too long—and that
was only if she was found in time. No one heard from his sister in
nearly two years, and those who knew she was missing grew more
concerned by the day.

“My Mage affairs are of no concern to you.
You think after all these years of inquiry, you would give it up,
but I am continuously plagued by your incessant questioning,” Nolen
snapped. Many maidens called him handsome, with thick eyelashes
surrounding deep green eyes, tightly-curled brown hair tied back in
a short tail, and the tall physique of a warrior. Nolen was not
terrible to look upon. Balien suppressed the gag. Anyone who truly
knew the Prince saw passed his pretty wrapping to the firebrand
temper beneath.

A passing servant in a red tunic bowed beside
Balien with a tray of little cakes. Some had savory onions and goat
cheese, another with apples, and a third with mushrooms and
spinach. The young man proffered the apple cakes to Balien, holding
the onion and cheese furthest away from the Prince. Balien met the
boy’s eyes, recognizing him from the kitchens, and put a hand over
the apple cakes. The boy gave the smallest nod, and Balien took
it.

“I just want to know how long you will be
gone and where you are going,” Queen Miranda replied gently. By her
tone and seated stance, Balien knew she was beaten long ago. She
was by no means pretty with deep brown, lifeless eyes, prominent
jaw bones, a nose bridge that was too flat, and slowly forming
jowls. She may have been lovely when she was younger, but that was
before her exiled husband beat her will and confidence out years
ago. The years had not been kind to her either, fleshing out her
middle and creasing her face.

“My concerns are none of your business.”

Balien finally had to rescue his Queen. “And
if she has need of you before you return, where will she send a
messenger?”

Nolen fixed him with a sharp glare, one of
thousands the Prince sent his way, and Balien gave him a thin smile
suggesting Nolen to try and argue with him and see where it lead.
As the soon-to-be brother of a Queen, Balien’s power was growing
over Nolen’s sway.

Balien had always been described as a gentle
soul, and he saw his purpose in the palace as an aid to those less
fortunate. He liked to think of himself as a vigilante. He had his
father’s dark brown eyes, high cheekbones, and broad chin,
alongside his mother’s dark gold hair cropped short above his
collar and styled to fall back. He ran two fingers though the
unruly locks in a gesture of preparing himself for a battle and
tightened the muscles in his face to ward off the kind look his
eyes often betrayed. Nolen may have grown immune to his glares, but
any passing soul would be chilled. Miranda still was, and she
quickly adverted her eyes from Balien’s sudden movement.

The serving boy offered the tray of cakes to
Nolen, holding those with onion and cheese closest to the man.
Nolen snatched the first one he saw, taking a mouthful likely
without tasting it. One hand rested in his coat pocket, fiddling
with something unseen.

Miranda took an apple cake and rose a little
in her seat. “Will you be traveling to Castle Jaden again?”

“Does it matter?” Nolen snapped in his deep
voice.
‘Someone touched a nerve,’
Balien thought.

“It does, Prince,” a woman’s voice stated
from the doorway. Balien rose and gave the woman a proper nod as
she entered.

Lady Mage Aisling was the power behind the
throne. She carried herself with utmost confidence, her face
intelligent and her eyes knowing. The Lady was just into her
fifties, and in her short years had risen from a powerful Mage
House to the Advisor to the Queen. She served the late Rincarel and
now her sister Miranda. She also held a Seat on the Mage Council,
making her one of the ten most influential Mages.

She fixated her cold blue eyes on Nolen as
she gracefully rounded a couch. Her tight gaze summed up her
calculated opinion of him while keeping his mouth sealed. Balien
was thankful for the reprieve of Nolen’s irritating voice and for
the entertainment. Aisling always brought amusement with her around
the Prince.

“As Prince, you are required to answer your
Queen’s questions. It is your duty, and your privilege to be in her
presence. Now, what was the question, Your Majesty?” Aisling asked,
taking control of the situation without raising her voice. Balien
smiled into his wine.

“I would like to know where you are going,
and how long you will be gone,” Miranda asked, her timid voice
gaining a little strength.

Nolen exhaled sharply, giving the Advisor a
loathsome glare she ignored. “I am going to the Balfor Delta, and I
will be there a few weeks.” He downed the rest of his cake. He drew
whatever he had been fiddling with from his pocket, and Balien saw
the glint of a silver coin, rounded unlike Anatolian square
coins.

“Would you not take Balien with you? For
protection?” Miranda asked as Nolen took a step to leave. The coin
twirled between his fingers as he grew anxious.


Please do not drag me into this,’
Balien thought and closed his eyes in horror. He opened them to see
Aisling looking his way.

“Balien has his own frivolities to attend to
here,” Nolen brushed off. “Do you not?”

“I should think so, Queen Miranda,” Balien
replied in a pleasant tenor voice. “The soldiers are training new
bannermen, and they need my sword arm.”

“Oh, oh yes.” She nodded thoughtfully.

Nolen mumbled some salutation of thanks and
left as quickly as he could. Aisling and Balien shared a moment of
relief as the Advisor, dressed in a high-necked green gown dripping
with ropes of pearls, took a seat across from the Queen.

“I always thought Fire Mages were the ones
with uncontrolled tempers,” Miranda sighed and swirled her wine.
“Air Mages usually have such nice dispositions.”

“The stereotypes are often wrong,” Aisling
replied. “Spirit Mages are said to be crafty and intelligent, but
we all know that is not always true,” she smiled.

Balien chuckled and raised his goblet to her.
Aisling was a Spirit Mage, a Class Five, and was as schooled as
they came. Miranda got the joke after Balien’s laugh. When the
servant pouring wine refilled their goblets, Queen Miranda asked
him to step out and close the door.

“I wonder,” she began. “I wonder, has there
been any news of Princess Robyn? I am most anxious to find
her.”

So was Balien. The controlled smile Aisling
gave said she too was desperate.

“Nothing as of yet, but I have the armies’
best diggers looking for her,” Aisling answered, referring to their
spies and masters of incognito.

Balien had his own men out looking. He
learned of her location three years before. He traveled out to see
her and his old foster-brother Gabriel whenever he could, but a
year later they vanished. Urima Manor was vacant but for the
servants. It was so quiet since Mage Cordis disappeared about the
same time. They left no clues, no trail, and sent no word. For all
he knew, they were dead, though he did not think that could be
possible. The disappearance of Mage Cordis had innerved the Mage
population. They knew nothing of Mage Gabriel, so they were none
the worse when he vanished.
‘If only they knew of you,
brother,’
Balien sighed and glared into his cup.

“What if we sent ambassadors to…” the Queen
began, but Aisling put up a hand.

“We do not want to worry the people that the
heiress is missing.”

“But it could help find her! Get the word
out, and maybe she will hear!” Miranda exclaimed.

“Robyn will return by her birth anniversary,”
Aisling replied with an air of finality. “I am certain of it.”

“Very well,” Miranda nodded, her curls
flopping about her head. “What work do you need me for today?”

“Nothing,” Aisling replied. “I have it taken
care of.”


As always,’
Balien thought.

“Prince Balien, how are your days with the
armies?” Aisling asked. He sat in a precarious situation with the
various factions of the armies. While his sister was heiress to the
throne only Queens sat on, it would be Balien’s duty to command her
armies. Since he made no claim to them without Robyn on the throne,
the task fell to Nolen. Everyone knew it was a position Balien
would eventually take, and Nolen loathed him for. For some time now
the power had been shifting between them, but in Robyn’s absence
they stood at a stalemate. Still, it did not stop the men from
showing favoritism. Balien was a respectable swordsman where Nolen
relied on his Air Element, and men respected what they could
see.

It would be tricky for Miranda to step down
and Robyn to gain her throne. Why remove a Queen who was healthy
and able? While those close to Miranda knew she was neither, the
people saw what Aisling wanted them to see. To the populous Miranda
was very just and giving. In fact, she was so giving she was
speedily eating away their silver holds and mines her sister Queen
Rincarel struck.

“My Lady, they go well,” he answered,
straightening in his seat. “General Calsifer is…eager to teach me.”
What he truly meant was Calsifer was eager to see Nolen go. No one
hated the Prince like the General who took orders from him.

Aisling smirked and raised a brow, thinking
his statement bold though tactfully put. Miranda did not notice
right away. They gave her a moment.

“Nolen will not be pleased to let go of the
army,” Miranda sighed quietly.

Aisling gave her a look of subtle horror.
Nolen would do
whatever
the Queen commanded; a point Miranda
never learned. “I would not worry yourself over it.”

“You know how much the boy loves his power,”
Miranda sighed and played a finger on the rim of her silver goblet.
“I do not know what he would do.”

“Perhaps Princess Robyn will be generous and
keep him on as council,” Aisling offered. Balien quietly spat back
his wine as his throat closed on the swallow. Not if his little
sister listened to anything he said. She already knew of their
cousin’s antics and Balien’s opinions on them.

“Yes, perhaps,” Miranda said dreamily. “Oh,
it is getting late,” she stood smoothly and pressed the wrinkles in
her black-and-white striped dress down. “I am having tea with the
Medextris House.”

“Please tell Lady Katlyn I send my fondest
greetings,” Aisling smiled as she and Balien stood to give formal
bows. Miranda promised as she swept out.

Aisling kept her composure well, clasping her
hands and fixing Balien with her cool eyes. However cold she wished
to appear, he saw the warmth in them and was rather proud to call
her his closest confidant. “How fares Nolen?”

Balien played innocent. “My Lady, I could not
say.”

The young serving boy entered with a tray of
cakes, and again he pulled the onion and cheese back to offer them
the apple or mushroom.

“I think the cheese has spoiled,” Balien
whispered, and the boy did his best to keep his smile back.
Aisling’s hand hovered above the mushroom, but with a second
thought she pulled it back.

“If you have one poisoned, they very well
could all be,” she stated and motioned for the boy to leave.

“My Lady, I do not know to what you infer,”
said Balien.

She gave him a condescending smile. “The
barrel of nutmeg from Shalaban was not meant for you?”

“I am sure it is the kitchens’, good
Lady.”

“And the vials of calla-lily oil are not
yours?”

“I am not a man who enjoys flowers, no.”

“How unusual they should find their way here.
I shall see the nutmeg gets to the kitchens.” She smiled again.

“It is best you do.”

She gave a bow of her head. “Very well,” she
walked to the doors. “You know, just the other day I noticed how
many foxgloves we have in the surrounding countryside.”

“Yes, it has not escaped my attention.”

“You are an observant one,” she nodded and
left him to his wine.

He turned to the windows with a smirk. The
Lady missed nothing, and she would keep his secret as well. While
he watched Nolen take the position as Commander-Prince of the army,
a command that should have been Balien’s, he had plenty of time to
research ways to take his unlucky cousin down. A decade ago he
collected all the information he could find on poisonous plants and
devoted his life to making sure they got into Nolen’s food. He had
been poisoning his cousin since Nolen came to Anatoly City and had
many advocates in the kitchens.

The foxglove caused irregular heartbeats and
digestive upsets. The calla-lily swelled the mouth and throat. When
Balien was feeling devious, a little extra kept Nolen on the privy
for hours. His favorite was the nutmeg, causing nausea and memory
lapses, but the trick was masking the taste. The Mistress of the
Kitchens blended the distinct flavor with cinnamon.

He was sure the Prince would not know the
difference between either spices.

Nolen and his mother thought the dusty air of
the City provoked his ailments, so the Prince often went on hunting
trips or visited Castle Jaden. Even then he always brought a few
flasks of tainted wine with him and never fully recovered. Balien
knew he would have to flee or murder his cousin if the man found
out, for the Mage would certainly kill him.

BOOK: The Castrofax
9.99Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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