Page 22 of The Lost Prince
His eyes sparked with interest. “Ah! I understand. May I be a part of your project? I’ve been working on learning the old language that’s on a lot of the more aged parchments.”
My eyes widened a fraction, but otherwise I kept my expression schooled. Had he been watching and monitoring what I was studying, noting my growing frustration with being unable to understand the language the older records were written in? I let my annoyance with him at spying on me slide, in favor of how I could use this to my advantage.
“How on earth—” I began.
“Here, I will show you,” he began enthusiastically, pulling up a stool next to me and sitting down, grabbing parchments and rearranging the desk with all thoughts of leaving forgotten.
* * *
Four hours later, night had fallen, and we’d burned through several candles with no signs of stopping. What I learned shook me to my core, though Elo took all of it with the stride of a researcher discovering new knowledge.
“Where is Hoveria?” I asked, the odd name jumping out at me from the top of a long ledger filled with numbers and tally marks. The binding on the old leather tome threatened to disintegrate in my hands, Elo and I leaning in so close our noses brushed the edges of the dusty pages.
“So you realized it’s a place! You pick up languages well!” Elo remarked, sitting back in his chair.
I followed suit, stretching out my back and putting my arms over my head.
“I’ve never heard of a Hoveria in any of our history lessons or any other readings,” I continued.
Elo shrugged. “Likely a trade partner of some kind. We had an abundance of jewels when our mines were operating at full capacity, so it makes sense we’d have to trade with someone.”
It made sense, especially with the way the tally marks and odd names lined up on the book in perfect rows. Likely, the names of various gems in the other language.
“Follow me in my line of logic,” I said out loud, staring down at the book as though it would suddenly shout its secrets to me.
“I’ll do my best,” Elo grinned, leaning in towards me.
I shrugged off his attempts to be friendly, ignoring them. This was business with a colleague of a medium amount of intelligence, and nothing more.
“Do you think those of the mud quarter may be from this Hoveria?” I said out loud, finally speaking what had weighed on my mind that past few hours.
Elo’s brow furrowed. “You’re thinking about the physical characteristics unique to them,” he muttered, eyes focusing on my dark hair. His own was strawberry blonde, but so far, Elo hadn’t treated me any differently or shown he was anything like the other Nobles who scorned me for my illegitimate birth.
Unless he was saving it for when it would be most convenient for him.
“If we agree that it’s possible—or even probable—that the mud district people are from this Hoveria, the question is why and to what purpose,” I continued.
Elo snorted and smirked as if I’d made a clever joke.
I hadn’t.
“What?” I asked defensively.
Elo blinked, picking up on my sudden prickliness. “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?”
I glared, and he ducked his head.
“Ok, sorry. Maybe it isn’t since you’re … one of them. No disrespect!” He held out his hands as though I was ready to jump him. Did he think me uncouth like the other mud boys, prone to violence and ready to attack at the slightest provocation?
My wariness in getting close to him felt justified. He was easy to work with, but ultimately just like any other Noble: prejudiced and stupid.
“Spell it out for me, then,” I grit out.
Elo cleared his throat, straightening the corners of the parchment on the desk. He was stalling.
“Well … people were needed to work the mines, weren’t they? Could you really envision the Nobles of the stone quarter being the ones to get their hands dirty? They were overseers, not miners.”
The image of the few stone quarter Nobles I knew filled my mind: all of them were pompous, thin-skinned idiots who tried to outdo each other by wearing as many jewels as they could get away with. Since the mines were now closed the only jewels came from private mines under their homes, and therefore a precious commodity. I doubted any had known a hard day’s work in their entire lives.
