A Gift Worthy of the Name
"I don't remember it clearly. What I can see is mana. The goods on those stalls yesterday were radiating it, so I could gauge roughly how much each item held."
Cassion added that this was why he'd stopped her from buying the necklace, then remarked that the goods at the stall next door had been far better.
Which is exactly why I bought that entire stall out.
I saw no need to bring that up.
"Diana, is your curiosity all settled? Then this time it's my turn to ask. Who is this Bella girl?"
I'd braced myself for him to interrogate me about how I knew Gadrian, so his question caught me off guard.
"She's Count Kolkos's daughter."
"You hated Count Kolkos. So why do you keep his girl around?"
Count Kolkos was a greedy man, but he loved his own family dearly. It wasn't difficult to deduce that one of the reasons he'd coveted our house was his own flesh and blood—watching Bella, who envied me, he must have seethed that he was not the one set to inherit Ehrenberg.
I was tolerating Bella in order to make Count Kolkos's eventual downfall all the more devastating. Because the higher one soars, the more it hurts to plunge into the abyss.
A little stress was a price worth paying for a far greater pain to come.
"Because she suits Prince Dayson so wonderfully."
With just that much, Cassion would catch on to my plan.
"They do suit each other, I'll give you that. But then why would she send me a gift?"
Cassion went off somewhere and returned carrying a small box, which he set on the table. A pink box tied with a red ribbon—Bella's taste to a T.
"Bella sent this?"
"Yes. I thought she only had eyes for Dayson, but apparently not."
"You're probably right. Though I'd say she's developed an interest in Your Highness as well."
I had ignored Dayson completely and clung to Cassion's side at every opportunity, so Bella must have instinctively sensed there was something to him.
"You haven't opened it?"
There was no sign the red ribbon had ever been untied.
"How was I to know what might be inside?"
Cassion's caution was, at times, endearing.
"May I open it?"
"Do as you like."
I undid the ribbon. Inside the box sat a small music box—a charming little thing shaped like a castle.
"It's a music box. Let's hear it play."
I wound the spring and set it down, and a soft melody drifted through the air. At the same time, the figure of a moon bloomed in the empty space above it. A magical music box that conjured a night sky.
"It's rather pretty. It must have cost her a fortune."
Knowing the state of Bella's purse all too well, I could appreciate just how far she'd stretched herself. Her allowance is meager as it is, and she's straining her finances to court Cassion too? Brazen Bella.
"So? Do you like it?"
I asked, giving the innocent music box a light tap.
"I guess."
"'I guess' what?"
"Receiving gifts feels strange to me."
"Strange?"
I buy him clothes, I feed him, I gave him Flac!
Ah. I suppose none of those count as gifts.
"So do you like it or not?"
"There's no reason to dislike a gift."
He had sulked when I mentioned receiving a present from Dayson, and now here he was, prodding at Bella's music box and turning it over in his hands. Irritation flared in me for no good reason. A mere music box! I had prepared the real thing!
"I prepared a gift as well."
I held out the documents I'd brought with me. Cassion's hand left the music box, and he picked them up.
"Where did these come from?"
"You'll know what they are once you open them. And I'm quite confident you'll like my gift better."
Cassion gave a short laugh and unfolded the papers. They were the deed of transfer for Twilight Mansion. As of this moment, Twilight Mansion belonged to Cassion.
His eyes changed from one second to the next—disbelief, then astonishment, and finally something very close to being moved.
"You… bought the mansion?"
"Yes. Under Your Highness's name."
"You said it would be difficult."
"I said it would be difficult. I never said it couldn't be done. Far better than a music box, wouldn't you say?"
"Is that any way to talk!"
Cassion shot to his feet and threw his arms around me. Being slightly smaller than I was, he ended up practically cradled in my embrace.
"Thank you, Diana. Thank you so much. Thank you for protecting my memories of Mother, Diana."
Pressed against me, he nuzzled his head into my shoulder and kept thanking me over and over. My shirt grew damp, and my heart grew heavy with it. I tipped my face up toward the ceiling, muttering like a fool fighting off a ridiculous urge to cry.
"A gift has to be on this scale before it deserves the name. So don't go getting all happy over some trifling present, Your Highness."
"Yes, Diana."
Cassion's voice was wonderfully meek.
Let's keep him this docile and hurry straight on to our wedding. And for that, I ought to meet with Karman while I was here today.
That morning, Karl had knocked urgently on the door of Karman's bedchamber.
Karl knew the king had only just fallen asleep after being ground down by state affairs until dawn, and it was hardly usual for him to chase him all the way into his chambers—so instead of reprimanding him, Karman simply accepted the letter laid neatly on the silver tray. One look at it, and sleep fled from him entirely.
Gadrian—the finest mage of this era, no, hailed as the finest across all eras—would be calling on Karman today. And in the most courteous terms, at that.
Karman knew all too well that Gadrian kept the royal family at arm's length, and the news left him thoroughly bewildered. Still, a connection of any kind was worth cultivating, and so he had gladly accepted the mage's abrupt request.
Besides, Karman and Gadrian shared an old history. Violetta's family and Gadrian's had long been linked, and the two of them had studied under the same master until the day Gadrian's magical talent truly blossomed. After that, Gadrian departed for the Tower of Magic, and Violetta married Karman. Gadrian's appearance at their wedding remained one of the more famous anecdotes of the age.
Karman spent the morning bustling about to carve out time for the meeting. Lost in an endless press of work, he didn't notice the appointed hour arrive until a respectful knock sounded and word came that Gadrian was there. Karman rang the small bell on his desk twice in assent, and the door opened.
Gadrian wore a green robe, its fabric embroidered in gold thread with the ornate crest that marked an 8th Circle mage.
Karman felt an oppressive presence radiating from the man, though Gadrian was smaller and slighter than himself. Gadrian had done nothing at all, and yet the mere fact that he had opened the 8th Circle—a realm untouched by any living soul—was enough to make Karman, king of an entire nation, feel small. Freshly reminded of the greatness of mages, Karman rose from his seat.
"It is Gadrian, Your Majesty. You've grown quite old since we last met."
Karman inclined his head slightly to accept the greeting and settled onto the sofa in the drawing room.
"Time spares you alone, it seems. What a fine thing it must be, being a mage. Come, have a seat."
Gadrian sat down across from him. Karman watched in silence as the mage lifted the tea prepared in advance and took a single sip before speaking.
"What business brings you to me?"
There was no sense wasting time sounding each other out. Both Karman and Gadrian were men of considerable depth, and pretense between the two of them would be nothing but a waste of the hour.
"Your Majesty, I intend to take up residence in the royal palace. Would that be agreeable?"
With no word of explanation, Gadrian dropped his bomb. Karman could not keep his tangled feelings from showing.
"Is this your idea of a joke? The whole world knows you never stay anywhere longer than a season. Ahh—or is it a journey you're after? In that case, anywhere would suit you better than a palace. Easier on the feet, at least."
Gadrian made Karman uneasy. The man was a magnificent mage, and nothing would have pleased Karman more than to have him on his side—yet he knew full well that Gadrian was not a man who would be. Judging by his manner today, he had certainly not come for Karman's sake.
Did Julia summon him, then?
Karman discarded the hypothesis the moment it formed. Gadrian, tied to Violetta as he was, would never look kindly on Julia.
But perhaps, then—
"Did you come because of my third son?"
He had heard that Violetta once reached out to Gadrian over Cassion's illness. It was hard to imagine that Gadrian, with his unfettered spirit, had carried her letter in his heart all this way—but apart from that, there was no reason under the sun for him to linger at the palace.
"You're less dull than I took you for. Precisely. I intend to try teaching Prince Cassion."
"You mean to teach Cassion magic? It's hardly as though you'd be instructing him in music, or politics, or history."
"You state the obvious so confidently, Your Majesty, I find myself doubting you are the king I once knew."
Not even Gadrian's dry sarcasm could sour Karman's mood. The words carried no malice, and Karman knew perfectly well his question had been a foolish one.
Yet puzzlement crept into the corners of his eyes. The greatest mage on the continent had appeared without warning and declared he would teach Cassion.
"Cassion is a mage?"
Karman heard himself blurt the inane words aloud. A smile ghosted across Gadrian's lips, there and gone.
Karman found it difficult to believe. Groundless rumors had once circulated that Petrora's founding king had been a mage, but never once in its history had a mage been born into the royal line.
"At times the unforeseen does come to pass. Events with no probability whatsoever have been known to occur, quite without warning."
Gadrian answered, having marked the doubt on Karman's face.
Karman's mind raced, tallying the influence Cassion's becoming a mage would have on the crown.
"I shall have quarters arranged for you within the palace."
He had reached his conclusion: Cassion's gift would bring the royal family more gain than harm. And Gadrian's mere presence in Petrora would be a boon in itself.
"Though I confess I'm curious. Why Cassion? Children hoping to learn from you must be lined up out the door. That boy is frail—an ordinary child, without any particular talent to speak of…"
"Ordinary, you say?"
Gadrian could not help but laugh at Karman's assessment of Cassion.
"I do. Sickly, even, if I recall."
Just a trace of concern had seeped into Karman's tone. But in those very words, Gadrian read something else entirely: that Karman had never been particularly proactive about having his son's illness treated. The child, the father—even the girl who stood at their side. A curious household, this.
What a troubled family. I do believe I've blundered into something.
No royal house with more than one child was ever free of such rot, but Petrora's might run deeper than the world knew.
So I've landed myself a nuisance after all.
Gadrian moistened his throat with tea and spoke.
"Your son is extraordinary—extraordinary enough to startle you out of your seat, Majesty. And he keeps at his side a fine partner, one who will coax that extraordinariness into full bloom. Talent of his own, and talent gathered to his banner: how could he be anything but special? If there is a problem, it is only his frail health—and is that not an illness I am perfectly capable of curing?"
The hand Karman had rested on the armrest of his chair trembled, ever so slightly. Gadrian saw it, and turned his gaze away as though he had not.
What, in that moment, sent a shiver through the king? The hope that a son he had given up on might yet be made whole—or the expectation that he might at last have a successor worthy of his trust?
It was a thing even an 8th Circle mage, who had walked to the very depths of magic, could not begin to read.