Family of Lies: Sebastian Read online

  Turren chewed the inside of his mouth because he could give no proper answer.

  “I thought not. Any attempt to replace it is a farce, so we’ll just stick with money. My father is probably waiting for monetary restitution upon my return. A full purse of gold will do.”

  “A full purse! That’s robbery!” Turren cried out.

  “No twit, it’s the price of the book. Perhaps when you decide to burn knowledge again, you’ll find something cheaper.”

  “I won’t do it again.”

  “Not to me you won’t.” Sebastian walked to the captain. “I don’t have a horse.” The captain scooted so Sebastian could climb on behind him, and he urged the animal onward. Prince Turren followed, and that was the last time he saw Sebastian.

  CHAPTER 1

  TWO MONTHS of no drunken brothers. Sebastian stuffed the last book into his bag. Two months of not being woken up by one of them searching for the latrine. He cinched the bag and swung it over his shoulder just as a knocking on his open door interrupted a final survey of his clean room.

  “They’ve already started arguing over who will be forced to play my guardian in your absence.” Ophelia rolled her eyes. “All they have to do is sit with me when I go outside and look threatening. Am I such a chore?” she asked while plopping down on Sebastian’s bed.

  Except you. You, I’ll miss. “No, they’re just lazy. Are you sure it’s all right that I leave you with those idiots?”

  “How is it that the most responsible in our brood turns out to be the youngest?”

  “Fear of becoming like one of them keeps me stable. If Demetrius or Pratchett give you any grief, threaten to call Diana on a mirror.”

  Ophelia smiled, her teeth a brighter white than her seer eyes. “I’ll do better. I’ll threaten to send for her if they’re delinquent in their duties.”

  Sebastian bent down and kissed his sister’s cheek. “I love you, and you are too sane for this family,” he said as he squeezed her good-bye.

  “I love you too. Remember, no adventures or heroics.”

  Sebastian laughed. “You couldn’t pay me to do either.” He grabbed his folded cloak sitting on his chair and left his room.

  At the bottom of the stairs, the rest of the Orwell siblings still living at the house waited for him. Sebastian tried to walk past them, but Demetrius blocked his path. I guess a reminder of why I’m leaving isn’t bad.

  “You can’t leave for two months. You’re supposed to look after Ophelia,” Demetrius complained.

  “She’s a grown woman and knows how to stay out of trouble. It’s not a hard job. Separately, you’re all hopeless, but together, you should form a half-wit capable of such a basic task.” Sebastian unwound his cloak and put his arms through the cloth.

  “Why are you throwing me in with them?” Kraven—the third youngest with hair as black as Demetrius’s—asked. “I came to say good-bye.”

  “Sorry. I forgot that you matured into less of an ass. Good-bye, Kraven.” Sebastian turned to their brother, Pratchett, who stood with his arms crossed. “Are you also developing manners?”

  “To waste on one of you younger gets? Gods, no. I’m here to call you a selfish bastard. You know Father is going to drag me with him to market, and I can’t stop him from spending all our money,” Pratchett said.

  “Why am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”

  “Because unlike Father, we prefer to fill our bellies with food, not wine,” Pratchett said.

  Sebastian saw worry spread across all three of his brothers’ faces, likely all thinking of previous times their father had left them with no food. “There’s a stash of coin next to the laundry bin.”

  Kraven whistled. “That’s one way to keep Mother and Father from finding it.”

  Pratchett and Demetrius’s eyes lit up with dishonorable intentions, and Sebastian grinned. “Whatever illicit ideas you have toward that money, I suggest you disabuse yourself of them, because I borrowed it from James.” Pratchett and Demetrius gulped.

  “Don’t you feel any shame in begging James for money?” Demetrius asked.

  “None. I needed an incentive to make sure it lasted, and I doubt any of you are dumb enough to cross him.”

  “You are a bastard,” Demetrius growled.

  “And by the way, if anything goes wrong, you might receive a visit from our favorite sister.” Their jaws dropped in horror, and Sebastian was able to shoulder past them and out the door.

  SEBASTIAN STARED at Silver Lake, which he visited before every journey. This was the only land his grandfather hadn’t parceled away on gambling debts. Sebastian had long forgotten what heroic deed the first Orwell performed to be gifted with the magical stretch of wood, but the king kept his word and let them lord over it in peace. He leaned down and smelled turquoise flowers whose thorns could stop a human’s heart. Sighing, he lifted the cloak’s hood over his head, sealing the clothing’s spell in place. Next, he withdrew a pair of enchanted leather gloves from a side pocket and pulled them on his hands. Branches breaking disturbed the silence, and Sebastian ducked behind a tree. Terrified whinnies accompanied a horse jumping into the clearing, its rider dangling from the saddle. The body jangled loose and landed in front of Sebastian’s hiding place.

  This can’t be good.

  The bloodied heap didn’t stir, so Sebastian carefully walked around the tree. He took short steps until he was within touching distance. Sebastian lifted his foot and tapped the man’s shoulder. The man groaned, and Sebastian leaned forward. Shit, he’s still alive. He removed part of the man’s coat, revealing a blood-soaked shirt and a chest underneath that barely moved.

  “Inconvenient of you to drop onto our land. I guess I should stop the bleeding.” More rustling in the trees interrupted his plans. A man stepped through the brush brandishing a sword, and Sebastian didn’t think he was going to listen to reason. Sebastian stood. “Good afternoon, sir. A nice day, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, I’m going to kill two men today.”

  “Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself when you haven’t finished off your first victim?”

  “You know, I was just going to slit your throat, but now only a stomach wound will satisfy me.”

  The swordsman stalked closer, and Sebastian stepped back. “Can’t you be a reasonable killer and just accept a bribe?”

  “Not with the boss I have, and it insults my work ethic.”

  “Begging? I am only nineteen.” Sebastian gulped as the man was nearly upon him and too much vegetation blocked his retreat.

  “If it makes you feel better, but I’ll still kill you. You keep still, and I’ll slide my sword into your heart, nice and easy,” the hired killer promised while thrusting it forward.

  Sebastian twisted and brought his left hand up, shoving his knife under and into the man’s jaw. “You shouldn’t have trespassed on Orwell land.” He yanked the blade out and watched disbelief fall off the man’s face in death. Blood slid from Sebastian’s enchanted cloak as if the cloth were made of glass. Sebastian turned back to the unconscious man. “You better be worth a reward.” He walked to the edge of the lake and emptied his water bag on the ground, then dipped it into the water and allowed it to fill. Trees shook and swayed, but there was no wind. “Shush. It’s an emergency, and no, I won’t let you eat him.”

  Sebastian returned to the injured rider. He removed leaves and dirt from the bloodied face and pried his mouth open. The man was unresponsive, but Sebastian pressed the spout between the stranger’s lips. Moments later he coughed up water, and Sebastian held his arms down. “Who are you?”

  “Tur—” the man spoke before passing out. Sebastian frowned. Lids had briefly opened to reveal familiar dark blue eyes. He splashed more water to wash away the dirt and sat back on his heels when he recognized the Royal Crown Prince of Larnlyon. “Fuck me.” He got up and started pacing. “We barely have a reputation left as it is, and you decide to die on our land? See, Sebastian. This is where playing heroics gets you.” He stopped an
d sat down beside the prince. “You are not going to die, you miserable son of a….” Sebastian cursed as he used his magic to stop the bleeding and mend what he could.

  SEBASTIAN RODE the prince’s horse, his unwanted baggage leaning on his back, hands tied around Sebastian’s waist. All Turren’s remaining energy could handle was enough magic to close his wounds during the ride. Any more and he would die from weakness. Prince Turren woke and passed out throughout the ordeal but hadn’t stirred since Sebastian finished bandaging the last wound. His surroundings blurred, but Sebastian pressed on. If we encounter another assassin, we’re both dead. They passed the city gates, but Sebastian needed to hand off the prince to the authorities without being dragged into royal affairs. Politics were an unhealthy business, and he was the last person who needed to be seen with the hurt royal. The heavy rain now coming down didn’t help his situation either.

  Most of the taverns were emptying, so Sebastian needed to dump him soon. He squinted at signs illuminated with magelight until he spotted a name Margaret had spoken of while reminiscing about her golden days. Sebastian untied Prince Turren’s wrists and slid off the horse. Turren slumped over, and Sebastian straightened his body. He guided the beast toward the rope line in front of the tavern, but Turren sagged again.

  “Damn you!” Sebastian steadied Turren and then carefully pulled him down. The fact I’ve lugged around so many books is the only reason I don’t hate you, you heavy bastard. Prince Turren’s head nodded onto Sebastian’s neck, but the rain streaming on his face slid off Sebastian’s hood. He wrapped an arm around the prince’s waist, and he dragged both of them into the tavern.

  Magelight brightened when they walked in, but no one was in sight. “I’ll be down in a minute!” a voice called from upstairs.

  “I found a drunk man fallen outside, and his horse wandering next to him,” Sebastian shouted in a high voice. “I have business to attend to, so I’ll leave him here.” He propped Prince Turren on a chair, head resting on the table and cloak snugly closed. He snuck back out just as he heard footsteps on the stairs.

  SEBASTIAN WALKED out of the city with no pursuit on his heels. A mile from the gates, a wave of magic swept out in all directions. His step didn’t falter, as he trusted in his enchanted clothing to distort his presence. Sebastian smiled. Soon the rain will wash away all signs of the man who discarded a wounded crown prince in a tavern.

  CHAPTER 2

  LORD HAROLD Bast frowned over several letters on his desk. “Why does everyone think I know who this mysterious wizard is?”

  Sebastian added figures from the invoices and ignored his friend. A wadded-up paper bounced off his head, and Sebastian looked up.

  “Of course you know nothing about strange cloaked men with healing abilities in Larnlyon.” Harold removed his glasses and rubbed his brow. “What am I supposed to tell the king? He demands a full report by mirror this morning.”

  “You should tell the king to rely on his court wizard instead of asking you to do his dirty work. Besides, it sounds like from what Captain Pembrost told you, he doesn’t have a lot to work with.” As if I’d let any of them find me.

  “I have to think of something more diplomatic if we want the king to look elsewhere.” Harold waved his hand in the air when Sebastian opened his mouth. “I’m not a fool! And a tavern? What if the prince had been robbed or dropped back into the rain?”

  “The rumors say that Prince Turren was found in a tavern run by one of Margaret’s old City Watch friends. I hear that he was safe as a babe in her care until the castle guards arrived.” Another wad of paper hit Sebastian on the forehead.

  “How long do you plan on stubbornly lying to my face?”

  “Until you can prove otherwise.”

  Harold glared, and another piece of paper flew into the air. It stopped midway between their desks, unraveled itself, and unbunched, sliding up Harold’s arm to smack his face. Harold ripped the paper away, and his light brown eyes glowed just as the door ringer greeted another customer.

  “Lord Bast? Did it seem dark in here for a moment?” Mr. Jenkins asked when he limped past bookshelves to the desks where Sebastian and Harold were seated.

  “No, it seems bright as ever.” Ever the businessman, Harold beamed at the older man and shook his hand. “I have your order.” He reached for two books tied with twine from a stack of similar bundles on his desk. More greetings and coin were exchanged, and they were alone again. “I will give King Harris a plausible answer, but please consider revealing the truth. Saving Prince Turren could have put your life in danger.”

  “There were no witnesses other than the tavern owner hearing a man’s voice.” Sebastian cleared his throat. “From what I’ve heard.”

  “At least learn to lie better.”

  HAROLD STUCK his head into his spare bedroom where Sebastian was categorizing piles of books that stretched to the ceiling. “Presents,” he said joyfully while Sebastian dusted himself off.

  Sebastian held out his hand, and Harold gave him a sheaf of papers. Flipping through the sheets, Sebastian saw several pages depicting a cloaked man. Most of the faces were left blank, but a few had a monster’s features touched by light. “Ridiculous.” Text on the side of the preposterous images caught his eye, and Sebastian squinted to read it. Either he was an eight-foot giant or barely reached three feet. At the bottom of the pile was a picture that eerily resembled his cloaked form.

  “I thought that one would grab your attention. The demon-faced ones are circulating through the city faster, but that picture has me worried because it was issued from the castle. Lord Pasley drew that himself,” Harold said grimly.

  “I need to ask Ophelia to strengthen the spells on my cloaks if he was able to scry this much from inside the tavern. As long as it doesn’t reach my father, I should be fine.”

  “Thank you for finally being honest. What about Prince Turren? Did he ever wake up long enough to get a good look at you?”

  Sebastian shrugged. “He was unconscious most of the time, so I doubt he remembers anything.”

  “YOU REMEMBER nothing?” Lord Pasley asked again, exasperated.

  “I remember that he’s not the man who stabbed me,” Prince Turren replied.

  “Which doesn’t tell us if he is your savior or a conspirator,” Captain Pembrost said without looking up from his book.

  “We need to find him. It took me four spells to make a single picture,” Lord Pasley said.

  Prince Turren grinned. “Are you sure this is about my stabbing and not about wanting to find the wizard who outclassed you?”

  “As your attending physician, it’s in my power to force you to drink revolting tonics during your healing,” Lord Pasley threatened.

  “That’s all right. My handsome savior healed me just fine. I’m only exhausted.”

  Captain Pembrost put down his book. “How do you know he’s handsome?”

  Turren frowned. “I just assumed. That’s what happens in fairy tales. All the princes and princesses have good-looking rescuers.”

  “Lord Pasley, please leave us,” Captain Pembrost said.

  Lord Pasley stood up. “Fine, but I want the same answers.” He stalked to the door. “And he did not outclass me,” he said before closing it behind him.

  Captain Pembrost glared at his charge. “It’s on my head to find your assailants, and Lord Pasley is correct, this man could lead us to them. What is it that you remember but aren’t sharing?”

  Turren’s fingers intertwined and rested on his chest. “I’m not lying. I never saw his face, but I think I recall his voice.”

  “Go on.”

  “It was strange. Not deep or broad, but it left an impression.”

  “Was it magic?” Captain Pembrost asked, worrying that they had missed a spell placed on their prince.

  “No, my reaction to it was… natural.” Turren avoided the captain’s eyes.

  “Ah.”

  “I was surprised that my body was capable of responding, but I guess i
t was because the voice was so fa….”

  “Fa?” Captain asked when his prince halted.

  “Foreign,” Prince Turren finished.

  “Funny, for a moment I thought you were going to say familiar.” Captain Pembrost tapped his fingers on his closed book.

  “Nope, I definitely meant to say foreign,” Prince Turren assured him. He yawned and stretched out his arms. “I’m sorry, but I’m too tired to continue. Would you mind coming again later?” Turren yawned a second time.

  “I’ll let you rest for now. Sleep well.”

  “WHAT DID he say?” Lord Pasley asked when Pembrost entered the hallway.

  “Nothing helpful to you, but something he said tugged my memory.”

  “I expected to hear more than that,” Lord Pasley said. “You’re too soft on him.”

  “Are you sure the man who rescued him is responsible for the healing spell?” Captain Pembrost held up his hands when Lord Pasley sucked in breath for a tirade. “Never mind, I trust that you’re sure, but that complicates matters further.”

  “Huh?”

  “I swear that I’ll have the name of the wizard for you soon, just be patient,” Captain Pembrost promised.

  “I’ll take your annoying hints for now if you keep your word.”

  “Now who’s impugning whose honor, Frederick?” Captain Pembrost smiled at his friend.

  “I have better reasons to doubt you. By the way,” Frederick said as he leaned closer, “only some of Turren’s exhaustion is an act, and that worries me. He’s my cousin’s son, so I know he’ll run himself ragged despite my warnings to rest. I will run more tests on him when he wakes up.”

  Pembrost placed his hand on Frederick’s shoulder. “See, you are better than the handsome savior.”