Gaia's Secret (44 page)

“Lord Commodus.” My dad smiled. “How did you
beat me home?”

Lord Commodus. So that was why he looked
familiar. His brother had held me prisoner, in chains, and
attempted to kill me. More than once.

“I know, it is miraculous.” He smiled. I
didn’t like his smile.

His eyes turned to me. They were cold—like
his brother’s. And they were staring at me so intensely I looked
away. It was hard, separating him from his brother, and I couldn’t
look at Lord Commodus without seeing an evil man.

“Who is this…stunning young woman?” His voice
was a whisper. “She reminds me of someone.” He paused. “She reminds
me of…”

“Daria is my daughter,” my dad answered
firmly. He stood taller, the humor now gone from his face.

Lord Commodus’ lips parted before he could
hide his shock. I felt his mind, mulling things over, putting
pieces together and trying to find where he fit in that puzzle.

Or where to place himself.

Lord Commodus’ rubbed his chin. “Is King
Darius aware…”

“We were on our way there now.”

Lord Commodus’ appraised me thoughtfully. “It
appears Gaia has been keeping secrets,” he said, more to himself.
The smile returned to his face. “I won’t detain you any longer, for
I’m sure you are anxious to see your father.”

Dad didn’t answer.

Lord Commodus started to turn but paused,
holding up a finger, forehead creased in thought. “Perhaps, of
course, if there’s time, you all might join me for dinner. Danton
is here, as you know, and I should be delighted for him to…”

“That,” Dad interrupted, “won’t be
necessary.”

Lord Commodus looked at me. “Of course, sire.
All in due time. Tomorrow then.” He bowed his head. His robes
flared around him as he spun on his heels and left.

Dad stared after him, his emotions
masked.

“That didn’t take long.” Stefan smirked,
staring after Lord Commodus.

Dad’s lips tightened. He met my gaze before
motioning for us to follow him forward. I didn’t miss the deep
creases in his face.

He led us up the grand staircase and Stefan
kept his hand on my elbow. I tried shaking free, but after about
three times of having him replace his hand, I stopped.

The halls upstairs were just as giant-sized
as below. We walked down tall corridor after tall corridor,
upstairs and downstairs, past portraits—all with frowning faces (I
used to wonder why portraits never smiled, but then I figured if I
had to sit absolutely still for hours while someone painted me, I’d
be grumpy, too).

We reached a covered bridge. A lawn stretched
beneath us and the air smelled of flowers—lavender, mint,
tuberose—and at the end of our bridge was a pair of double oak
doors.

“Father.” Stefan nodded towards me. “Don’t
you think she should change?”

I put my hands on my hips. “What’s wrong with
my clothes?”

Stefan rubbed his chin. “They’re just not
exactly…for every day.”

“I’ve been wearing them
every day
for
the past few weeks. So they have a few cuts and scratches? They’re
holding up just fine.”

He looked to Dad for help, but Dad stood
back, amused. Dad knew better.

Seeing he wasn’t getting any help, Stefan
continued. “That’s not really what I meant.”

“So what
did
you mean?”

“Well, as a princess, you are expected to
dress—well, wear a dress. And you—” he sniffed my hair
“—desperately need a bath.”

Dad chuckled and I narrowed my eyes. “Just
because you prefer petty refinery to dirtied working hands, don’t
assume I lack manners. I just prefer honesty to pretty buttons.” I
thumbed the golden buttons of his double-breasted black coat.

Stefan looked aghast at Dad. “Did you teach
her anything?”

Dad shook his head. “Tried. She never
listened.”

Stefan. The golden child, crowned with golden
hair. Fitting. I had no idea how Alex could be so close to such a
goody two-shoes. We’d have to work on that.

Dad waved his hand, shaking his head as he
led us through the doors.

I didn’t feel as small in this room. The
ceiling was still ridiculously high, but at least it wasn’t
giant-high. Huge maps covered the walls and a large round table
stood at the opposite end of the room, surrounded by high-backed
oak chairs—all of which were unoccupied, save two.

A man sat in the tallest chair with his back
towards us, and another cloaked in crimson hovered at his side.
They were speaking in harsh whispers, but at the sound of our
entry, their talking stopped. The man in crimson stood tall, turned
to face us, and I shuddered.

His face was drawn and narrow, the angles in
it sharp and formidable as if his soul had gone, leaving nothing
but a hollow shell. His lips tightened as he gazed at us and a
shadow passed over his eyes. I was suddenly glad the Del Contes
hadn’t brought me here without my dad. I didn’t trust either person
I’d met.

The man sitting in the chair stood and spun
around.

Odds didn’t look good I’d trust him
either.

Silver hair hung just past his shoulders, and
the rest of him was covered in elaborate emeralds, blacks, and
silvers. His skin showed age, particularly around his frowning
mouth. His features were hard and sharp, as if he’d been strong in
his youth, but age had stolen his strength, leaving only shadows.
But what struck me were his eyes, and my heart sank with heavy
realization. They were my dad’s, and now Stefan’s, yet they lacked
the warmth I cherished. These eyes were cold and cautious
and…calculating.

My grandfather.

“Alaric.” The single baritone word held such
command even the room stood at attention.

“Father.” My own father bowed his head.

I’d never heard my dad so submissive. This
man—this distant, unfeeling man—was my grandfather? No, he couldn’t
be. I’d always imagined someone loving and gentle and, well, like
Tran. Not him. Not someone that wasn’t even happy to see his only
son safe and sound—king or not. This man acted put out.

With a slight turn of his head, the king
glanced at the man in crimson. “Leave us, Headmaster Ambrose.”

Ambrose’s dark eyes studied our group before
he crossed the room. For the smallest moment his step
faltered—right in front of me. He didn’t turn. He didn’t stop. But
I caught his eye before he proceeded out the front door.

The room was quiet. The king stood still as a
statue with his hands clasped before him, staring at us.

“I expect that you intend to explain your
absence.” The king frowned.

Each word felt like a physical blow.

My dad didn’t flinch. “And I will, but
first—“

“Who have you brought with you?” The king
interrupted, pale curious eyes studying my face.

Despite his age, his strength was
incredible—even stronger than my dad’s. And slowly, I began to
understand Alex’s words. Not even one minute in his presence, and I
was already afraid of him. There was an intelligence in his gaze
that made me feel exposed, as if he could see the desires of my
heart and he was the last man in either world I felt safe sharing
them with.

Before anyone answered him, he lifted his
fingers to his lips and his eyes widened. “It can’t be,” he
whispered.

I felt a surge of my dad’s anger. “It isn’t.
Daria is our daughter.”

“Alaric, I know she isn’t Aurora. You seemed
adamant that you weren’t going to bring your daughter here, yet.”
The king took a step towards us, those omniscient eyes never
leaving my face. He continued to walk until he stood before me; the
smell of spiced cigar and mint thick on his clothing. Withered yet
still able fingertips reached out and touched my hair.

Did the man expect to have rights to
everything?

I pulled my hair away and took a step
back.

He raised a sharp brow. “My apologies, my
dear, but you are so like your mother. How old are you, child?”

Child? “Eighteen.”

“Has it really been that long?” he whispered
more to himself.

Dad nodded.

“Daria.” The king’s tone transformed to one
of tenderness, his eyes matching the warmth in his voice. I was
disturbed by how immediate his character had drifted between patron
and ruler.

This was my grandfather. The king. Both
persons would be a very interesting encounter, but combined? What
did you say to the grandfather you never met who was also the ruler
of a world you only recently discovered existed? Maybe I
would
take Master Durus’ advice and keep my lips closed and
let him do all the talking. And maybe, just maybe, if I showed the
proper respect, he wouldn’t be as harsh on my unique relationship
with Alex as Alex seemed to think he’d be.

“Welcome home, my dear.” He smiled,
appraising me. “Alaric, she’s the ghost of Aurora—particularly the
large grey eyes, and there is undoubtedly Aurora’s…wild air to
her.” He waved at my filthy attire. “And yet.” He tilted his head,
studying my face. “How is it possible that you should have such a
beautiful daughter? Had she not looked like Aurora I would deny
your claim on her.”

All chuckled but me. My grandfather was
smiling, the mood in the room lightening at once. The control he
had over the atmosphere unsettled me. I could feel his pride and
admiration, but there was that other part to him—the king part.
That was what I was afraid of. It seemed to me it wouldn’t take
much for that merciless side to show its face.

“I suppose I should introduce myself,” he
continued. “I am Darius Regius, Sovereign of Gaia, and, of no less
importance, your grandfather. You may address me as Grandfather
like Stefan has always done.”

A little voice nagged at me to say something,
but I wasn’t sure what. I still couldn’t believe what he had said,
even though I heard it with my own ears.

“Well?” He glanced irritably at my dad.

Dad flashed me a pleading glance. Right, I
needed to be on my best behavior, which meant I should probably say
something.

So, I stuck out my hand. “Daria Jones from
Fresno. You may call me Daria.”

I felt a wave of anxiety from Stefan, but the
king smiled, accepting the gesture. “Natural command, I see. But
from now on you will go by your given name, Daria Regius. And we
will have to do something with these clothes of yours.” His eyes
frowned over the length of my frame.

My cheeks flushed, but I stood tall—aware of
Stefan’s acute disappointment.

“And now that we’re on the subject of your
dress, you should know it isn’t fitting for you—a princess of
Gaia—to be covered in filth. I recall your father saying you prefer
to be out of doors. That is fine; however, for now you shall remain
inside the castle, until you learn our ways and what’s expected of
you.” He eyed me up and down again.

I started feeling claustrophobic. Within
moments of meeting the man, he built walls around my freedoms and
dictated my future. He expected me to be a mindless, glittering,
puffy-dressed pawn at his disposal. This man, my grandfather, the
king.

Don’t say a word. Don’t say a word if you
have any hopes of keeping certain freedoms.

At my silence, he continued. “I understand
these changes may be a lot to absorb, but given the proper time,
I’m confident you will learn our customs and manners as should be
fitting. The lifestyle here is entirely different than what you’re
used to, I’m afraid. I will take great care in ensuring you are
educated with the best tutors as your brother has been. That should
be rather simple, now that you are to live here, but before any of
that, we shall present you to the realm. Tomorrow morning should
do.”

“Father.” My dad’s apprehension was strong.
“Don’t you think it’s a little early to—“

The king held up a jeweled hand. “All but one
of my lords is present, although his son is serving in his stead.”
The king turned to my father. “Perhaps Stefan mentioned Danton is
here?”

“Yes,” my father said, his tone flat. “We saw
Lord Commodus on our way here.”

“Wonderful. He has come then. Things have
been trying since your absence, and now that you’ve returned, you
can fill the Council in so they may find an appropriate course of
action. Regardless, everyone is gathered that must meet her, and
can relay the information to the territories well before the
Festival in November.

“And then.” King Darius turned calculating
eyes on me. “We can introduce the world to my granddaughter. Wait
until they see her. News of her beauty will travel far. I’ve no
doubt she’ll have her choice of eligible suitors come
November.”

I suddenly found my voice and, unfortunately,
lost my discretion. “Suitors?”

A twinge of nervousness hummed from my dad
and Stefan.

“Of course. As my granddaughter, you are
expected to marry well. The union must be to the son of one of my
lords. Not to worry. They’re all present currently, including Lord
Commodus’ son, Danton. He would be very suitable, once
you’ve…changed.” He waved his withered hand over my frame
again.

Their nervousness had transformed into pure
fear.

“Marriage?” I gaped at him. “What on earth
are you talking about? I’m only eighteen and I’m not…getting
married anytime soon, and when I do—assuming I do—I’ll pick
him.”

The room fell silent. Seconds ticked by,
holding on for dear life. The horror of Dad and Stefan was acute,
but even beyond their varying emotions, I didn’t miss the flash of
rage from my grandfather, though his face betrayed nothing.

My grandfather patted my arm. “We shall
discuss this topic at a later time.”

“There’s nothing to—“

“Daria.”

It was Dad this time. His face was fixed and
his eyes held warning. I closed my mouth.

“Alaric, it is alright. She is tired from so
much travel, so many life-altering circumstances. I am sure that
her judgment has suffered for it.”