A Call to Arms: Book One of the Chronicles of Arden (9 page)

The knot in his stomach released a little. “I—thanks. I’m not even really sure who my friends are. I mean, I’ve met so many people so fast I can barely keep the names straight.”

As they headed off together, she nodded. “I’m Kezra Malin-Rai. And you’re Gibben, right?” A sly but genuine smile finally graced her hard features. “Aren’t you the boy I almost ran over yesterday?”

He heard himself laugh. “Gib, yes.” They shared a chuckle as they made their way to the dining hall, and despite the uncertainty of what lay ahead, Gib felt his mood lighten. Between Nage, Diddy, and possibly even Kezra, he felt like he’d as good a chance for success as any of them.
 

Lunch went by quickly, but plenty of food was available and he managed to find Nage once more. Unfortunately, he was with Tarquin. Diddy was nowhere to be seen, but Gib supposed that made sense. The prince was busy and probably took his meal with his family.

When finished eating, Gib nudged Nage and they both hunted down Kezra. She gave them a shrewd look, but when Nage confessed he also didn’t know where to go she relented and allowed the two boys to follow her. She’d suggested that they wait for Tarquin, but both Gib and Nage had assured her that he would find his own way.

Their classroom, an audience hall, was bigger than any room Gib had ever seen. A stage in the center was surrounded by tiered benches. When Kezra picked a seat close to the front, Gib hesitated. He wasn’t even sure if she would allow him to follow her or not, but Nage made the choice for them and they stumbled in beside her. She glanced their way when they were all seated but didn’t tell them to leave.

As time stretched on, more students filled the seats. Gib craned his neck to see everyone. “These aren’t all sentinel trainees, are they?”

Kezra shook her head. “No. Everyone who will serve Arden in any way must take this class. In the next few days you’ll see different uniforms. Mages wear white robes, blue jerkins for the healers, black tunics for the older students interested in law and academics, and our grey soldier garb.” She stuck her nose in the air and put on a lofty sounding voice. “As well as the finery of the highborn classmen who wish to pursue a political career.”

Gib rolled his eyes. “Do we all sit together or will we be separated?”

“Why? Afraid you might have to sit next to an arrogant noble?”

He huffed a laugh just before Nage sank low in his seat. “Tarquin.”

Gib bit his bottom lip and looked over his shoulder. Tarquin was wandering through the aisles, appearing to be at a loss as he looked for a seat. Gib fought the urge to also slide down and go unnoticed. As the highborn’s search continued, however, a familiar pang of despair settled in Gib’s stomach. “No one is letting him in.”

“Do you blame them?” Nage groaned. “He never shuts up. He’s always going on about his family and estate and whatever else.”

Kezra sighed, rolling her piercing green eyes. “He means well. He’s not a braggart, just an idiot. Our fathers work together and he doesn’t have any friends that I know of.”

“Why not?” Gib asked.

Kezra fixed him with a skeptical look. “Isn’t it obvious with that mouth? And—his look is odd.” Her mouth slanted into a thin line.

An uncomfortable silence rose among the three of them as they watched Tarquin’s plight. As the young highborn continued to search for an empty seat, his face and neck grew progressively redder. No one would slide down and give him a seat. People gave him narrow looks before waving him off. Gib swallowed. He knew better than to treat people this way.

“Sorry guys, I have to let him in here.” Kezra’s apology was hushed but not ashamed. Gib nodded, relief flooding his insides and Nage let out his breath. Apparently they’d all rather listen to the fool chatter about nothing than watch him be rejected. Kezra stood and waved. “Tarquin! Over here.”

Tarquin zeroed in on them in an instant, and the relief that passed over his countenance wrenched at Gib’s guts. They each shifted down a seat as Tarquin climbed in beside them.

“Thanks, guys. I, uh, it was starting to look like all of the seats were full. I guess I’ll have to be faster tomorrow.”

The highborn sank down and took off his hat, pointedly ignoring how others stopped to stare at his washed out complexion and odd pale eyes. Gib wouldn’t ask, but the more he looked at Tarquin the more the highborn boy seemed not merely fair skinned. He’d also changed his tunic, still long sleeved, but this one was much less elaborate. Gib felt the sinking sensation worsen as he remembered thinking ill of Tarquin’s fine clothing earlier. Had someone said something to him? Or worse, had no one said anything at all? Had the desperation to fit in pushed him to change? Gib’s cheeks grew uncomfortably warm.

“So how are your ribs feeling?” Gib asked.

Tarquin smiled so hard it almost looked painful. “Kezra is a tough match. If you don’t believe it, you’ll have to trade with me tomorrow.”

Gib forced a soft laugh. “No. I think I’ll just stand back and watch. I heard how hard her blows were landing.”

Tarquin gave a hearty laugh. “Yeah.” He fidgeted with the sleeves of his tunic. “Thanks again. Really. For letting me sit with you.”

The highborn didn’t make eye contact and Gib was grateful. He didn’t feel like looking into the face of someone he’d wronged. As he remembered how quickly he’d been judged by the Instructions Master, Diedrick Lyle, Gib came to the conclusion that perhaps he’d done the same to Tarquin Aldino.
 

Gib stumbled back to his room. He was exhausted. Both of his afternoon classes had seemed to stretch on for marks. The professors were nice enough, but it was obvious right from the beginning that Gib’s reading and writing skills were lacking. He would need to find extra time outside of class to work on improving his literacy.

Extra time—when he woke before dawn to perform his chores and then was in class until nearly dinnertime, directly followed by evening chores? When was he going to find extra time to study? And with whom? Almost all of his new friends were well schooled already, but he didn’t feel confident enough to ask them for assistance. Surely Tarquin and Kezra were just as busy as he. Gib’s head was spinning as he reached his room.

As he raised a hand to push on the door, quiet laughter rose from within the room. Apparently Joel had company. Gib hesitated, caught somewhere between knocking and turning to leave. He was sure it would be polite to wait outside until he was invited in, but this was his room as well. Surely he could come and go as he pleased.

Gib tapped his knuckles against the maple door just once before pushing it open. He was shocked to see Prince Didier perched on the edge of the bed. He’d changed outfits sometime after the morning sparring session, trading the elaborate winged tunic in favor of a more practical jerkin with a silver chained belt. Gib’s roommate, Joel, was sitting across from the prince and the two had been conversing. Both boys looked up as Gib blinked in shock.

Diddy’s eyes widened and his lips curled into a smile of surprise. “Gib Nemesio?”

Gib sputtered. “Uh, h–hello, Prince—I mean, Diddy. What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

The prince laughed and looked over at Joel, whose crystal blue eyes were likewise clouded by confusion. “I didn’t know Gib was your roommate! Joel, this is the boy I was just telling you about. The one from Roland’s sparring class.”

Joel chuckled in a light manner, eyes dancing. “I should have guessed by the way you described him.”

“Wait,” Gib interrupted, scratching his head. His gaze fell back to Diddy. “You’re not here to see me?”

The prince smiled sheepishly. “No. Joel is my cousin. I came by to deliver a message to him.”

Gib’s eyeballs nearly burst from their sockets as he jerked around to face his roommate. “
You’re
related to the royal family?”
Why?
Why did everyone insist on keeping such important information from him?

Joel shrugged, playing with the sleeve of his pristine mage robe. “You could say that. Didier’s mother, Queen Dahlia Adelwijn, is my aunt by blood. My father’s sister.”

Gib nodded, still trying to digest this news when something else struck him.
Adelwijn
. That name was familiar. “Queen Dahlia Adelwijn? Like Koal Adelwijn, the seneschal of Arden?”

The cousins glanced at one another before Joel lowered his crystal eyes. A faint rosy color stole over his cheeks and he was only half successful in keeping the laugh out of his voice. “Yes, like Koal Adelwijn. My father.”

“How are your studies faring?”

Gib glanced up from the manuscript he’d been trying to decipher and smiled as Joel came into the room. Joel Adelwijn—son of the seneschal of Arden—Gib reminded himself. The shock of learning this information had been given adequate time to settle, and the two roommates had transitioned past the awkward silence. Joel continued to be aloof and they were not what Gib would call friends, but their relationship was amiable enough.

Gib had, however, forged friendships with Nage, Kezra, and even Tarquin. They were an odd quartet, but having such companionship helped Gib adjust to his new life.

Prince Didier was another constant in Gib’s new world. Although the prince was often busy outside of class, the two had time to chat in the mornings before training with Roland commenced. Diddy was surprisingly humble, despite his privileged upbringing. He was curious about Gib’s life, often asking the strangest questions, but without hint of mockery or scorn. The young prince’s innocence about the outside world was genuine. In a way, Didier reminded Gib of his young brothers back home. He missed them despite his newly forged friendships.

Liza stopped by to see him twice in the sennights since Gib’s arrival. She even brought fresh parchment on her most recent visit, and the two siblings sat down and wrote to Tayver and Calisto. Simple words were all they could manage, but it was enough to assure their younger brothers that he and Liza were all right. Gib hoped the boys were safe too.

Gib set the book aside to answer Joel’s question, letting out a frustrated sigh. The words had begun to blur on the pages. “I’m doing okay. My professor says I’m a natural with arithmetic, but not so much with reading. I’m still struggling with the letters.” He motioned to the frayed tome. “Hence the extra studying, though I’m not sure I’m doing myself any favors. I think I’m just making matters worse.”

Joel stood before the window, locks of his raven hair rustling in the light breeze that came through. He didn’t speak for a long moment, but finally, soft words flowed from his mouth. “I should take you to the library. I could sit with you if you’d like—if you need some help with the words, that is.”

“Oh, uh, I mean, I wouldn’t want to be a burden,” Gib replied, feeling strangely flattered that his roommate—always so distant and reserved—was offering assistance. “You’re probably busy with your own studies.” Gib closed his mouth as a means to end his rambling.

Joel didn’t look away from the window but shrugged his shoulders. “I have more free time than you might imagine.”

Gib wrung his hands. “I figured you would have a full schedule, being the son of Seneschal Koal and related to the royal family. Surely you must dine with the royal court on occasion.”

The mage trainee let out a sharp snort. “The court is full of petty, hateful nobles with nothing better to do than spread rumors and prey upon the vulnerable. I’d sooner dine with pigs than the likes of them.”

Gib was taken aback by Joel’s outburst. Something had the young man terribly upset. “Surely they can’t all behave that way.”

“They do.”

“You’re not like that.”

After a stifling pause, Joel turned his crystal eyes toward Gib, shock registering on his fair features. For a split second, his eyes flashed with pain. Gib could see the isolation and fear. A strange sensation made its way from the pit of Gib’s stomach to his throat. Never before had Joel seemed so genuine, so real. In his state of vulnerability, he at last seemed human.

And then the trainee seemed to remember himself, and the mask of a smile was restored. Joel’s voice was hushed. “I suppose you have no idea who I really am.”

Gib bit down on his bottom lip. It was true, but that was hardly his fault. He’d tried to talk to Joel, but it wasn’t easy.

“And that is entirely my fault,” the mage continued with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Gibben.” Joel took in a breath of frantic air, and Gib was certain his roommate was about to say something important, something groundbreaking.

An abrupt knock sounded on the door. Both boys jumped and turned their heads toward the sound. Gib was suddenly aware of the rapid pounding in his chest. He’d been so absorbed in the conversation that he hadn’t noticed his quickening pulse.

Joel was on his feet a second later, his robe sweeping across the floor as he went to answer the call. Gib ran his fingers along the binding of the tome which sat before him, a prickle of defeat tickling his heart. It was unlikely Joel would choose to open up again.

“Hello, little brother.”

Gib glanced up in the direction of the new voice in time to witness Joel’s eyes cloud with resentment.

“What are you doing here?” the mage trainee asked, posture rigid as he glared into the corridor.

The other voice was smug, dripping with haughtiness. “Oh, did I come at a bad time? I’m sure you’re still content to practice such shameful acts behind closed doors. I can return later if you have company.”

Joel narrowed his eyes further, face bathed with color and hands balled into fists at his side. “If you’ve come here to berate me—”

Smug laughter cut the mage trainee off mid-sentence. “Relax, little brother. I bring news from our father.” A moment later, the unidentified man stepped through the threshold and into the room.

The similarities to Joel were undeniable. The newcomer was tall and lean, with the same fair skin and blue eyes. His hair was just as dark as Joel’s and almost as long, but the locks of stark onyx were noticeably straighter, while Joel’s fell in gentle waves around his shoulders. His eyes were cold and humorless, though he might have been handsome if his mouth hadn’t been pulled down, contorting his fair features into an ugly sneer.

Gib sank down in his chair at the weight of the newcomer’s eyes. The young sentinel trainee instantly knew the look. He was being judged.

Joel was leaning against the wall as though he might topple over without its support. “Gibben, this is my elder brother, Lord Liro Adelwijn, mage and understudy to the High Councilor of Arden.” The mage trainee sounded ill. “Liro, this is my roommate, Gibben Nemesio.”

Liro barked a sour laugh. “A roommate? They allowed you to have another one after what happened before?” His eyes speared Gib. “Surely you mustn’t have told the poor fool your secret then.”

“It’s not a secret,” Joel replied, keeping his reddened face fixated on the floor.

The older brother rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately not. Now it is but a thorn in the side, a family disgrace that cannot be undone. I hope you’re satisfied with yourself.”

Gib had no idea what the two brothers were talking about. He fidgeted with his sleeve and kept his mouth shut until Liro demanded in a sharp tone, “What’s your name, boy?”

Gib narrowed his eyes. Joel had already introduced him once. “Gibben Nemesio. I was drafted as a sentinel trainee—”

Liro waved a hand high in the air. “Nemesio? Not a name I’ve heard before. Are you common-born?”

Joel made a noise as if in protest, but Gib replied first. “I am. Is there a problem with that?” He didn’t mean to growl the words like a challenge.

Liro went eerily still. Gib held his ground, though his legs were quivering beneath the writing desk. The older Adelwijn brother straightened to his full height and a dark smile spread across his lips. “Not at all, though I’m certain you’ll know your lot in life soon enough. When war inevitably breaks out, you’ll be sent to Shiraz to die alongside the rest of the peasant army. Your name will be forgotten.”

“
Enough
, Liro!” Joel finally found his voice. “Tell me whatever it is you came here to say, and then get out.”

Liro turned his attention back to his brother. “Father wanted to be sure to extend an invitation to the twins’ Naming Day dinner. If I were you, I would check with their father first. Our uncle seems to be one of the only sane members of our family left. I’m not sure he would be comfortable with your presence.”

Joel locked his jaw. Gib could feel tension rising in his gut. He had half a mind to leap up and tell this Liro to leave but had no such authority. At long last, the younger Adelwijn brother found his voice, shaken and weak as it might be. “I’ll speak with Father later.”

“Do not keep him waiting.” Without a further word, Liro let himself out. He glanced back just before he shut the door and his lips lifted into an eerie, forced imitation of a smile. “I shall pray for your damned soul as always, brother.” And then, with a slam, he was gone.

Gib swallowed at the sudden silence. He looked to Joel but couldn’t make eye contact while he was busy glaring at the floor with eyes that glimmered wetly. Gib cleared his throat and looked away out of courtesy. “Are you all right?” It was all he could think to say.

No immediate response was given. Joel sat on his bed and such a length of time passed that Gib went back to trying to read, sure that Joel wouldn’t answer at all. When the mage trainee finally did lift his voice, it was flimsily held together. “I apologize. I’m sorry my brother was so rude to you.”

“Seemed to be the only way he knew how to communicate. He was worse to you than to me.” Gib paused to work up the courage to go on. “Joel, I don’t know what he was talking about, but he was clearly hurting you. I just—I want you to know that I think you’re a good person. I don’t know you well, and it’s all right if you want to keep it that way, but I do think highly of you. Don’t let that swine tear you down.”

Joel lifted his face and blinked, a single renegade droplet on his cheek. “Diddy was right about you. Yours is possibly the most open and compassionate heart of any man.” He took in a deep breath. “Thank you, Gibben.”

Gib’s face flushed and his heart hammered all over again, though he didn’t know why. “Gib. Please, call me Gib.”
 

A brief while later, Gib excused himself to go to the midday meal. Joel, as always, lingered behind. His custom was to dine exceptionally early for breakfast and late for both midday meal and supper. Gib initially figured it was merely an odd habit, but the more he grew to know his roommate, the more Gib realized Joel was avoiding the people there. With the pieces of the puzzle coming together, Gib was bothered and wanted to find some way to remedy the situation.

The dining hall was packed when he arrived, which made finding his friends all the more difficult. After his plate was full, Gib wandered through the tables where they typically sat and was eventually flagged down by Kezra. He took a seat between Tarquin and Nage.

As they settled back down to take their meal, another voice spoke up. “Hello everyone. May I join you?”

Gib startled, his mouth half full with bread. “Diddy? What are you doing here? I mean, yes. Sit down. You know you don’t need to ask.”

The young prince laughed lightly and took one of the empty places across from the four of them. “I try to remember, but you have to understand that my manners have been ingrained in me. Mother is very strict about that.”

“Speaking of which, how did you manage to get away from her on our rest day?” Kezra chided him between bites.

“Very carefully,” Diddy admitted with flushed cheeks. “I suspect Father is being chastised now for aiding me in my escape.”

A round of laughter rippled through them. The Queen was apparently having a difficult time allowing her son to grow up. It was only within the past couple of sennights that she’d relinquished her grip enough to allow him to dine in the academy hall. And this was the first time Diddy had managed the feat on their day of rest, which was allotted every seventh day. Gib used the rest day as an opportunity to catch up on his reading.

Gib shook his head good-naturedly. “It’s so strange to hear you talk about them. I know they’re your mother and father, but they’re the King and Queen to everyone else.”

Diddy smiled as he picked at his dish, lifting some potato onto his fork. “I shall have to have you over to meet them one day, Gib.”

It was in jest, but even the suggestion made Gib’s stomach churn. He realized that was the intended effect, but it still unnerved him to consider it. Meeting Diddy had been bad enough. He couldn’t imagine meeting the King or Queen of Arden.

“Hey. What is that?” Nage’s voice was so loud and unexpected that Diddy stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth. “On your potatoes. What is that?”

The prince glanced downward and seemed to be at a loss. “I don’t see anything. A bit of gravy, nothing else—”