A Call to Arms: Book One of the Chronicles of Arden (29 page)

A solemn, grave look passed across Diddy’s brown eyes. “Arise, Gibben Nemesio. The honor is mine.” The prince’s voice was formal, stifled, and nothing like the friend from class Gib had grown accustomed to.

Gib stood to his full height, glancing around. He didn’t like having to be so formal but was glad he’d erred on the side of caution. He and Diddy were not the only people in the room.

Hasain had joined a group of three men on the opposite side of the arena—one of which Gib recognized as Weapons Master Roland. Of the other two, one was tall with dark, braided hair and a red cape similar to Seneschal Koal’s except that it hung from his right shoulder instead of the left. He was fitted with a fine linen doublet and heavy fur cloak beneath his cape to ward off the cold. The other stranger was the opposite of the first, small of stature, with red hair and a patch covering his right eye. Gib could only assume this stranger had no reason to leave the palace for all he wore were a pair of boots and a kilt. Both men stood beside Roland and six royal guardsmen waited nearby, still as statues.

As Gib observed them, he pondered whether this lesson would be a spectacle for all these gathered strangers to see. It was bad enough when he made a fool out of himself in private.

The men talked quietly among themselves, stealing glances in Gib’s direction now and then. Roland even gestured toward Gib at one point. He shrunk back a pace, doing all he could to keep from wincing.
Are they talking about me? Do they disapprove of a commoner training with the prince? What if they send me away?

Diddy’s voice was soft and reassuring in his ear. “They’re learning your name and face—a safety measure, nothing more.”

Gib forced himself to nod, though he had little idea what was happening or who any of these strangers were.
But when do you ever really know what’s going on? Just nod your head and pretend you’re content
. “Fair enough.”

Diddy began to pull the velvet cloak from his shoulders. “We should start practicing. It won’t be long until the lesson commences.”

The prince unclasped the golden button that held his cloak in place, and almost immediately, a young attendant slipped from behind a pillar and scampered to Diddy’s side. “M’lord, Prince Didier, can I take your cloak?”

Gib blinked in surprise. He recognized the boy with russet-colored hair at once as the waif who had been caught stealing the fur cap from a vendor during Midwinter Festival—the same boy who had nearly lost his hands until Queen Dahlia herself had ordered the sentinels to stand down. The royal guardsmen had taken custody of the youngster—and now he was here at the palace?

Diddy turned toward the boy and gave him a small smile of gratitude. “Yes, Gideon. Thank you. Gib, you may give your cloak to him as well. I assure you Gideon will take good care of it.”

The boy took their cloaks, bowing as he stepped out of the way. Gib noted the youngster looked to be in good health. He’d been half-starved and wearing rags less than a moonturn ago and now he was dressed in a clean tunic and appeared to be receiving regular meals.
Joel did say his aunt has a soft spot for homeless children. Queen Dahlia must have offered him a job as a servant
. He thought to ask Diddy about the young boy later—now was hardly an appropriate time.

Diddy smiled as he turned his attention back to Gib. “We’re only waiting for Tarquin now.”

“Tarquin is coming?” Gib asked.

“Yes. He was also chosen to train with me. I requested Kezra and Nage as well, but I fear they were overlooked for being a girl and a peasant.”

“I’m a peasant.” Gib didn’t mean for his voice to sound so strained, but he couldn’t correct it once he’d started talking.

Diddy’s dark eyes went wide even as his pale cheeks flushed with color. The prince stumbled over his next words in perhaps the most ungraceful display he’d ever shown Gib. “I didn’t mean—apologies, Gib. I–I only meant that I believe Kezra and Nage weren’t given fair treatment when it was decided who would come to the palace. The fact that you were chosen speaks highly of your skill and the trust Master Roland has bestowed upon you.”

Guilt blossomed in Gib’s stomach. He knew he and Nage wouldn’t be judged so harshly—or Kezra either for that matter—but all he could think of were Hasain’s arrogant words in the hallway only moments before he’d entered the room. The young Radek lord had been so condescending and cruel. Still, it was unfair for Gib to vent his frustrations on Diddy. “I’m sorry. I know what you meant.”

Diddy opened his mouth to speak but stopped when the large door opened again. This time Tarquin and an older man with dark hair stepped through. No introductions needed to be made. The man was clearly Tarquin’s father; they looked exactly the same except for their coloring. Tarquin’s white blond hair and ivory skin must have been inherited from his mother.

Diddy was once again a prince, taller, intimidating, and perfectly reserved. “Greetings, Councilor Joaquin Aldino and Lord Tarquin Aldino.”

Tarquin and his father both bowed low and made their greetings, and once Diddy had commanded them to rise, Tarquin’s father went to join the other grown men across the room.

Tarquin wrung his hands as he looked around the arena with wide eyes. “I never dreamed I’d be here.” He turned a full circle. “Imagine the kings of old training in this very spot—” His voice faded into hushed awe.

Diddy’s smile seemed much more genuine now that the three friends were alone again. “You don’t mind too terribly being taken from your afternoon classes?”

“No!” Tarquin laughed. “To have the honor of training within the palace—” He froze as he looked toward Hasain, the pack of royal guardsmen, and the other adults. “Are they—?”

“They’re here to learn your faces,” the prince explained for the second time since Gib had arrived. A rueful smile stole across his lips. “I was instructed to pretend they weren’t here at all.”

Gib snorted. “The guards? Who could ignore them?”

Tarquin gave him a confused glance, his face a flustered shade of pink. “N–no. I meant—”

“
Stand at attention!
”

The Weapons Master’s voice rang clearly off the high stone walls and caused all three boys to jump. Roland strode over in full armor with his sword pulled and at the ready. Gib winced. Apparently it was time to begin.

“Tarquin and Gibben, you’ve been chosen from your peers. It is your duty and honor to serve by training with our prince. Lessons will commence at once and henceforth until the King himself determines otherwise.” Roland pointed to a selection of swords on a nearby rack—real, steel swords, not the wooden ones Gib had expected to train with. “This class is no small matter. No mistakes will be tolerated here. Armor up and find the weapon that suits you.” Roland’s smile was wicked and fearsome. “No one leaves the arena until he cries for mercy.”
 

Gib returned from his lesson at the palace, tunic drenched in sweat and bruises the size of chicken eggs already darkening his skin. His arms and legs were afire despite the cold winter air. Weapons Master Roland had pushed the three boys hard. Even Tarquin and Diddy had been gasping for reprieve by the time the lesson was over. Gib groaned aloud at the prospect of having to return the following day. He’d reminded himself—if only to keep from crawling into a hole in the ground and never coming out—that it was an honor to train in the splendid arena inside the palace walls and in such company as a prince of Arden. He was supposed to be
grateful
for the beating he’d endured.

By the time Gib bathed and ate dinner, his muscles ached so terribly that all he wanted to do was curl up on his mattress and sleep. As it was though, the sentinel trainee hadn’t worked on his studies since returning to Academy and with an exam looming in his Ardenian Law class, Gib knew rest would have to wait.

Forsaking his warm bed, the sentinel trainee went to his desk instead and began to read. It was hard to focus on the words with so many thoughts running through his head. Despite the assurance that every necessary precaution was being taken, Gib couldn’t help the feeling of terror in his gut. The assassin who attacked King Rishi hadn’t been found—how could everyone be so confident no second attempt to take the King’s life would occur?

A faint scratching noise at the door caught Gib’s attention and the irrational fear that somehow the assassin had come for Gib raced through his mind. The sentinel trainee’s head shot up, brown eyes wide, any number of awful scenarios traversing his thoughts.
What if the assassin figures out I provided Seneschal Koal and the other officials with information? What if he comes to shut me up for good?

“Gib? Are you all right?”

Joel’s tender voice brought Gib back to his senses. The older boy was standing in the doorway like a beacon of light in the middle of the night, a pillar of strength among the chaos. His raven hair shimmered in the candlelight and his eyes were as bright as a cloudless summer sky. Gib’s breath caught in his throat. He’d never wanted—no,
needed
—Joel more than right now.

Gib forced his lips to move. “I’m okay. It’s been a long day.” His heart hammered in his chest as he watched the mage trainee sweep into the room.
Daya, I need to tell him. I’ve kept this a secret for too long
. Joel’s smile was wistful as he closed the door, sliding the bolt into place. The click of the lock was like thunder in Gib’s ear.
Alone. We’re alone. I’ll never have a better chance than now
—

“It’s been a long day for both of us,” Joel replied. “I’m sure you can imagine the gossip I had to endure in my classes today. I suppose I should be grateful I wasn’t the topic of discussion for once, but—being son of the seneschal has its disadvantages. Everyone kept expecting me to know what was going on. You should have heard some of the questions I was being asked.” Joel flopped down onto his bed with a sigh. “How was
your
day? Was the royal palace everything you dreamed it would be?”

Gib groaned. He welcomed the light conversation despite his heavy, tumultuous thoughts. “Let me tell you about that. Or I could just save my breath and show you the bruises.”

Joel laughed as he rolled onto his side, propping himself up by the elbow. “I take it Master Roland was hard on you?”

“It was worse than group class.”

“You should know many students would gladly pay for that kind of one-on-one attention from the Weapons Master.”

Gib’s eyebrows creased as he contemplated Joel’s words. “I would have to say such students are insane.”

Light laughter echoed off the walls. “Perhaps they are.” Joel cleared his throat pointedly as he sat up on his bed. “How was Didier faring when you saw him this afternoon?”

Gib could feel the mage trainee’s eyes. “Given the circumstances, Diddy seemed to be okay. He was happy to see me and Tarquin.” Gib sighed, closing the book he hadn’t really been studying anyway, and went to his own bed. “That doesn’t change the fact that I’ve been worried about him all damn day. I’m worried about his entire family.” Gib rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve been so stressed.”

Joel frowned and immediately rose to his feet, crossing the space between their beds. He sat next to Gib and gave him a gentle tap on the shoulder. “Hey, I know you’re afraid for Diddy and the others, but it will be all right. You need to try to get some sleep tonight. I’m sure you’re tired.”

Gib nodded. “I’m exhausted, but—” He bit his lip as he carefully debated his next words. Yes, he was worried sick about the safety of the royal family, but in this moment, all he wanted to do was share the truth about the way he felt about Joel.
Goddesses, give me strength
. Gib let out a stifled breath of air. “There is something I need to say to you.” With uncertain, shaking fingers, Gib reached out to take hold of the other boy’s hands.

Joel started to pull away, to retreat into his shell of indifference and isolation, but this time Gib had anticipated it and was ready. He tightened his grip around his roommate’s hands before he could escape. “Wait.”

Joel stiffened his shoulders, panic flittering across his beautiful face. “Gib, I—uh—”

“Talk to me, Joel,” Gib pressed, before his courage abandoned him. “I can’t keep pretending like there’s nothing going on between us.”

The mage trainee’s voice was weak. “O–oh, if this is about what Nawaz said after the Midwinter feast, I already said his behavior was less than appropriate and I’m sorry—”