When I woke again, it was dark.
The room was dim. My blankets were tucked around me neatly - definitely not my doing - and my boots were gone. Someone had carried me here and tucked me in.
Dad? Or someone else?
I sat up, hair a mess, mind foggy.
How long had I been asleep? Judging by the darkness, I figured I'd slept the whole day.
I rubbed my eyes and slid out of bed, feet cold against the wooden floor. My stomach growled. My head throbbed. But I wasn't sure if I was hungry or just confused.
I crept out of my room.
I prowled through the house like a ghost, barefoot and silent.
Did I miss anything? It didn't seem like it, but I still went through the house to check.
Voices drifted from the living room.
I leaned against the wall, then crouched down, inching closer until I found the small crack between door and frame.
Father sat with King Deimos. A low-burning hearth cast them in a warm orange glow. Two glasses of something sat untouched.
I'd seen this before.
Oh no. Was my father about to sleep with the king?
"You know, Alarick," Deimos was saying, "I'm not blind. When are you and Sera officially becoming a couple?"
My father choked on nothing.
The king laughed quietly. "Relax. I know. Everyone knows. Not that they, or I, object."
Father rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Deimos, she's your guard."
"And a grown woman. And I'm your friend," Deimos countered, amused. "You're both adults, last I checked."
Father groaned. "This is embarrassing. I feel like a child asking her father's permission."
"Not as embarrassing as finding my daughter asleep on your porch steps," Deimos said, raising his eyebrows. "Head on your son's shoulder. Holding hands."
Okay, that was kind of embarrassing.
"Io never sits still for more than a heartbeat. She's rambunctious. Like her mother was at that age. For her to fall asleep 'on' anyone…" He shrugged. "Well. Your boy must have a calming effect."
"Caleb has… always been strange. Observant. But good. A good boy."
Strange? Well… fair.
The king's expression shifted. More serious.
"Alarick," he said, fingers tapping his glass. "You know why I'm really here."
Father's posture straightened. "Yes. I thought as much."
"A few days ago," Deimos continued, lowering his voice, "there was a… disturbance in Astar."
That piqued my interest.
"A duel," he said. "Between two unknown mages. Powerful ones."
There was a pause.
"And they were accompanied," Deimos went on, "by six warriors of such physical strength that eyewitnesses could call them nothing but monsters. The collateral damage was… minimal, but the potential for destruction was enormous. It was a spectacle unlike anything we've documented in years."
Father nodded gravely. "I've heard the reports."
The king leaned forward. "And one of those mages used a technique unmistakably linked to your father-in-law's expertise."
Father didn't respond. He didn't need to.
"I know he is difficult to reach," Deimos said. "He wouldn't even answer my summons if I called on him directly. But I need a meeting with him." His voice was steady - kingly. "If anyone knows or can interpret what happened in Astar, it's him."
Alarick exhaled slowly. "I'll try. I'll tell him. But you know how he is."
"I know," Deimos murmured, looking into the fire.
A log cracked in the fireplace.
"What do you think it was?"
The king's expression darkened. "I'm not sure. A confrontation between two unknowns, or maybe a warning or a test. All I know is that I can't wait around to see if something like that happens again."
I listened some more, but after that, there wasn't anything important.
So, I crawled back to my bed.
I didn't even pull the blanket over myself.
The next morning, things picked up when I was with Gregorio again.
We usually met in a clearing in the Hronaya forest. After three years with him, he didn't come to me to drag me there - instead, I went to him.
In any case, he hated being the one to fetch me.
I arrived when he was about to finish a story he was telling.
"-and when they realized the eclipses were not natural," Gregorio said, gesturing lazily with one hand, "the priests begged someone who could climb the White Ladder. At first five ascended, but only one returned, and it was clear to me that I'd never climb it, ever."
Besides teaching me magic in his own way, Gregorio told me many stories - all the stories of his life, to get a sense of his philosophy.
What I really found out was that he was a kind of lecherous man.
He had many relationships with many women and a few feminine men.
It wasn't like he described his acts in great detail, but there was a clear implication.
Maybe he didn't think that I could understand what he meant? That his special relationships with those people were just that - special in a way that wasn't romantic or sexual. But seeing how he described it: beauty, sensual, passion, desire, arousal, and so on - all weird words to say to a child, even your own grandson.
This was far off-topic.
I shook off the last of those thoughts.
"Granddad?" I asked. "Do you know that the king is here? At our house?"
Gregorio didn't react at all.
"I know. And he wants to meet me."
"Are you going to meet him?"
"No, I don't think so."
"Do you not like him?"
Gregorio made a vague sound - somewhere between a grunt and a shrug. "Eh."
Apparently that counted as an answer.
"That doesn't really say anything."
"That is because there is nothing to explain," he said, leaning back on his staff. "He is the king. I am me. Our interests do not intersect. Your father asked if I could meet him, and I declined."
"He asked you and you still won't?"
"No."
Another flat, immediate answer.
"But… why?" I pressed.
Gregorio raised an eyebrow. "Why would his position matter to me? I do not serve the crown anymore."
I let out a small sigh. "So you just don't care."
"That," Gregorio said with a small nod, "is accurate."
He was clearly ready to move on from the topic, but I didn't. Now that I thought about it, I kind of wanted him to meet the king.
I did my best to sound like a sad and disappointed child.
"Do you… not like my father?"
For the first time, he had a regretful look in his eyes.
And he was silent, just looking at me.
He stared at me and I stared back.
Not with annoyance or impatience.
It was a kind of… startled look. As if my question had reminded him that underneath all of my exterior, I was still a child, and I didn't understand his behavior as an adult.
"…I-" he began, then stopped.
He lifted a finger, then dropped it.
"I don't…" he tried again. "Caleb, that is not - your father and I are not… You ask these things so-" He gestured vaguely at me, at my face. "-so plainly. Like the world is still simple."
I watched him struggle for words, and a quiet spark lit in my chest. He would only do this, I thought - this awkward, uncomfortable searching - when someone pushed him somewhere he didn't want to go.
In my mind, I thought he'd usually handle a situation like this by shutting the other person up, but over our time together, I think we've bonded enough that he just couldn't.
I would hate it too if a child, especially one I knew and respected, forced me into a corner with questions like that.
But I was close to my goal. If I just stayed still, looking confused and hurt in the right proportions, he might just meet with the king.
"…Is it not?"
"No," he said softly. "No, it isn't."
"I do not dislike Alarick," he said carefully, as though choosing each word with tweezers. He wasn't flustered, but he was unsure what to tell me. "He is… fine. A good man. A responsible one." He shifted, a bit uncomfortable. "He was good to your mother. And he is good to you."
That should have been enough for most children, but it wasn't for me.
Come on, Grandpa, meeting with the king can't be that bad, right?
Maybe he had a grudge against the royal family or royalty in general? But to my recollection, there hadn't been a story where they insulted him or slighted him in any way.
His eyes flicked back to mine.
"But politics," he said, almost spitting the word, "and old… disagreements do not fade easily."
My brow furrowed. "Disagreements about what?"
Gregorio stiffened, then shook his head sharply.
"About nothing you should worry about."
That sounded a lot like something important, which meant he absolutely didn't want to tell me.
"I do not hate Alarick," he said firmly. "Do not think that. I simply… do not wish to be tangled in his duties. Or his choices."
I tilted my head innocently. "But he's family."
"…Yes," he said at last. "He is."
He put a hand to his chin. "Alright, alright. I'll think about it."
I tried not to smile. That was basically a yes.