State of Sorrow (Untitled #1)(46)

She rose, and made her way over to the table, all of whom turned to her as one, with a predatory gleam in their eyes. Sorrow became aware that the room had stilled; Bayrum and Tuva fell silent, and there was no sound of pen scratching, or shuffled papers from where Charon sat. She took a deep breath.

“Senator Balthasar, I’d like to offer my condolences for the loss of your wife. Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you.”

The senator stared at her.

There was a collective intake of breath, and during those few seconds Balthasar’s olive skin darkened, and his eyes narrowed. His lips curled back, he bared his teeth, and Sorrow braced herself.

But the storm came from a different direction.

Before Balthasar could say a word, the doors to the dining room were thrown open. And there, in the centre, stood Harun and Mael, arms around each other’s shoulders, faces lit with matching smiles.

Sorrow, Balthasar, all was forgotten at the sight of the two men standing together.

Harun looked reborn; he stood taller, prouder, his eyes were clear. Someone had neatened his whiskers, trimming them right back, and they’d removed the remains of his hair, his head oiled and shining. The shadows under his eyes seemed faded; his skin looked less dull.

Though it was his clothes that made Sorrow’s heart falter and flutter in her chest.

Harun was dressed in a soft blue tunic over royal-blue trousers, gold chains around his neck. And beside him Mael wore teal, stitched with red. The brightness of the colours hurt Sorrow’s eyes, hurt everyone’s eyes, and they all blinked, looking at the pair from the side of their eyes.

“Bring us wine,” Harun called in a clear, strong voice. “Open the curtains. Open the doors. For my son has returned.”





Many Happy Returns

The clamour was not instant. Instead, a hush fell over the room as the impact of Harun’s words sank in, the two men framed by the doorway like a tableau at the end of a play. Then, as though the council were an audience and had finally remembered they had a job to do, there was movement, applause, cries of delight and surprise.

Balthasar shoved past Sorrow, sending her stumbling, in his bid to be the first to reach Harun and Mael, as everyone descended upon the chancellor and the boy. Even the servants abandoned their posts and stepped forward, milling on the outskirts of the group.

Only Sorrow, Irris and Charon held back from the crowd. Charon wheeled himself away from the table, but paused halfway across the room; Irris moved to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. Charon looked up at her, and Sorrow found herself turning to seek out Rasmus, needing comfort of her own.

He was gone, she remembered then. But Vespus was there, striding across the room, his own smile spreading as he moved, his arms held out in welcome, Aphora behind him.

Sorrow stood alone.

“Where is my sister?” a voice called, and the group parted, leaving Sorrow exposed before her father and, so he said, her brother.

“Yes, child, come forward.” Harun did not take his eyes off Mael as he spoke.

Sorrow found herself moving, though she didn’t want to, walking forward to be embraced by Mael. Someone patted her shoulder as the man who claimed to be her brother folded her into his arms – Harun, she realized, still keeping one arm locked around Mael, held fast to him. She heard the cheers of the people around them, half-hearted now she’d joined them.

Sorrow really was all she brought.

She tilted her chin upwards, and looked out, over their heads. She kept her expression clear, as though she was happy to be there. As though she celebrated with them, when inside she was cold.

Be careful what you wish for, a voice murmured in her mind. You might actually get it.

Mael finally released her, but put an arm around her and brought her to his side, so the three Ventaxises were standing together, facing the room. Charon and Irris had joined at the fringe, and offered identical looks of pity and concern.

“I have been blessed,” Mael said, and though he didn’t raise his voice, the chatter ended at once. “Eighteen years ago, I should perhaps have died. Many did, trying to save me, and others suffered.” He offered a nod to Charon – clearly someone had told him how the vice chancellor came to be in a wheeled chair. “But by the will of the Graces, I survived and found a home and family in Rhylla. Two families –” he smiled at Vespus, who inclined his head “– and today I have found a third. My first family. In my first home. I don’t think it was a coincidence that I fell on the day the peace treaty between our countries was signed. In fact, the more I think on it, the more I think it was by design. Because of it, I am a child of both nations. Eighteen years ago, my father sought to bring about a peace between Rhannon and Rhylla, and in me I believe that hope is fulfilled.”

Hope fulfilled – not so humble now. The voice came unbidden again into Sorrow’s mind, and she recognized it now. Rasmus. For a moment she was overwhelmed with longing for him. For his touch, and his presence. She wouldn’t feel so bad, so alone, if he were there. No, she reminded herself. That’s not fair.

Harun spoke. “I…” He faltered, and looked to his son. Mael nodded encouragingly, and he took a breath before continuing. “I have not been … myself, for some time.”

Understatement, Imaginary Rasmus whispered to Sorrow.

“The loss of my wife and son shook me to the core,” Harun was saying. “Left me in a place that was dark, with no way out, and no solace.”