Page 7 of This Midsummer Heart
Chapter four
Silence
Auberon
Thereistoolittlesleep to be had in the House of Elves tonight, what with all the hammering and loading of chests and crates headed for the port. The moment everything—and everyone—grows quieter, I fall into a deep sleep.
I wake with the sun at amuchhigher angle than it should be. I don’t need a clock to know is well past the final moon hour. Bolting upright in bed and swinging my legs over the side in the same movement, my heart begins to race at once. Why has nobody awakened me? If Robin is too busy with arrangements, then he should’ve sent someone else. I was supposed to be up and ready by the fifth moon hour so the House staff can pack my bedding and personal effects.
And why in Dauron’s name is it so eerily silent in the central domicile of the House of Elves?
I throw open the door to my bedchamber, almost unsurprised to find it empty of servants and aids. Growing faster with each silent moment that passes, my pulse now pounds in my ears.
I do not need to search the entire house and surrounding buildings to know: No one is left. Not a cook, nor a gardener, nor the bookkeeper. The house is completely cleaned out. Anything that could not go on the ship was previously sold or sent along in merchant caravans to the remaining elven settlements—but the domiciles still held plenty of goods and personal effects to pack and bring to Nox. All of it is gone.
With a start, I realize that thisdomicileis gone, too. The House of Elves and all its buildings and grounds are already signed over to the Guild of Scribes, who intend to use it for a library and center of research all in one location. I’ve sold my home for less than it was worth, in exchange for the promise that they would continue their studies of magic and how we might one day get it back.
The keys were to be turned over an hour ago. Any moment now,humansare going to arrive and see me in my bedclothes.
“Robin!” I bellow at no one, loud enough for our human neighbors to hear. Loud enough, even, for the House of Fetes to hear down the street. The puk has betrayed me. Has he betrayed Titaine and the House of Fetes, too, or has he followed my instructions with this one alteration? If Titaine and the Fetes are already gone, I am in more trouble than I can fathom right now.
Because it’s so much worse than this betrayal, isn’t it? Elves do not simply abandon their leaders. Not unless they plan to choose a new one. The moment they left me behind, they as good as stripped me of my title.
I am no longer Houselord.
This also means I have no allies and very few possessions left that might help me to get to Nox. But by the gods great and small,by the boughs of Dauron, Titaine and the House of Fetes do not need to know that. If they remain, and if even one of them knows about this part of our elven culture, I might be doomed. I have no choice left but to seek out Titaine, and no hope of finding any aid in her House if I am not on equal footing with her.
Technically, I am still the king of dark elves. The blade I inherited from my father assures that I am, and I do not need to check beneath my pillow to know it’s still there. It can be held only by the rightful king, and is spelled so no one can take it—or so no onecouldtake it, before magic began to falter.
I race back into my bedroom, the tightness in my chest easing a fraction when I find the Blade of Hedril there.
I’m still a king. I haven’t completely disgraced my line yet. I’m just not sure the title holds any weight with the fae, since I put it aside to become Houselord of the Elves.
The muses would weep at my fate. I gave up everything to be Houselord here. Now, in the course of a few hours of blissful—and I daresaydrugged—slumber, I’ve lost it all. Everything I sacrificed to get here. Dauron only knows whether my bond with Titaine would’ve survived without the pressures of that title.
Padding barefoot through this empty domicile, I begin to wonder whether it was worth it. Whether it waseverworth it. For just as when I loved her, I am at Titaine’s mercy again.
As I stand in the foyer, I note the scuffs and dirt left by the crates and trunks as they were loaded onto carts destined for the twelve runeboat fleet that wasZephyr’s Bounty.And I can’t even be angry about my people’s carelessness; this is no longer my home.
To my dawning horror, as I stand there, the scabbard holding the Blade of Hedril clutched to my chest,still wearing night clothes,the front door creaks open. I was sleeping deeply upstairs, and my people hadn’t even left the front door locked to protect me.
Not that it matters, if they’ve already turned over the keys.
Keys which now dangle in a golden-brown hand, as glowing as it is gracefully curved. As if my thoughts of being at her mercy summoned her, Titaine herself follows the dancing keys into the foyer. I almost expect her to look smug, finding me here like this, hair and bedclothes in complete disarray. Instead, she tuts at me as if disappointed.
“Finally. I was wondering when you’d wake and realize what’s happened. I borrowed the keys from the Guild of Scribes. They’ve agreed to delay moving in for another hour or so, but you might want to dress yourself and come to the House of Fetes.” She cocks her head innocently. “Youdoremember how to dress yourself, don’t you? Or should I send a servant to help you?”
I change my mind just then, proving Robin wrong in his theory that elves are slow to change. Mere hours ago, I wanted nothing more than to leave Titaine behind.
Now, I wish with all my heart that Titaine had gotten on the runeboats and left me in magic-forsaken peace.
Moving like a magical automaton, I find a simple linen tunic without sleeves to don over my likewise sleeveless summer mail, and tightly woven trousers best suited for riding a horse. My former subjects have left me one, at least. I’ve emptied my room of my grooming essentials as fast as I can, strip the bed and shove everything that will fit into the waiting chests, and fasten my father’s dagger to my hip; at least these traitorous elves had no right to that.
Only when I am through with all my packing do I realize I have no way to get all these trunks out of here.
I’m going to have to ask the Scribes to help carry them.Scribes.
The process of packing up what remains of my life is over dishearteningly fast. It leaves me on the wrong side of the wall around the House of Elves’ compound. Traffic halts on the city street as the Scribes maneuver their carts through the gates, slung low from the weight of all their books.
