Chapter Twenty-Six
After a sleepless night spent vacillating between her feelings for Gregor and the danger to her nephew, Nadia threw herself into putting together a plan to keep Reis safe until his parents arrived. She knew convincing her nephew would be her biggest hurdle. That evening found her slipping up the stairs of the palace, thankful that the gate made it so her glamour could be counted on to hide her from the guards patrolling the halls. She’d already made sure Gregor remained at his city home. A lump formed in her throat. She’d hurt him. It didn’t matter that she’d been saving him from an impossible choice. The pain in his eyes had gutted her. She paused and silently inhaled, forcing the painful memory into its box and shutting the lid tightly. She’d let herself wallow in misery later.
A guard stood before Reis’ door, a bored expression on his face as he flipped a coin between his fingers. She smiled, thanking the gods for sending fortune her way. Positioning herself near the door, she reached out and waited for the guard to flip the coin back to his first knuckle, then flicked it out of his hand. He grabbed for it, brushing her fingertips before she could pull them out of the way. Nadia held her breath. The guard stepped forward to chase down his coin, unaware it had been anything other than an accident. She sighed and silently lifted the latch to slip into Reis’ receiving chamber.
Pushing the door closed, she stopped and listened, letting her eyes adjust to the room lit by the glowing embers of a banked fire to her right. Two chairs sat near the hearth, a table between them. To her left, a desk sat against the wall near the black rectangle of an open door. Directly across from her was a set of doors which she assumed led to Reis’ sleeping chamber. A loud snort burst from the open door by the desk, followed by a long, drawn out snore.
Nadia shook her head and crossed the room to the closed doors. Stepping lightly, she pushed the door open, and soft light spilled over her. She slipped silently into the room and closed the door. A large bed took up the center of the room, its covers pulled back, but still smooth. To the right, tall windows stretched from floor to ceiling on either side of the fireplace where her nephew, dressed in a thick black robe and fur slippers, sat in a chair before the fire. His long fingers held a stick of black charcoal, his hand moving in broad strokes over the page of a large journal. He lifted a charcoal-smudged finger to shove a lock of inky black hair out of his face in a gesture so familiar it brought tears to her eyes. How often had she seen Lareina perform the same gesture as she read?
She traced the sweep of his profile, seeing the perfect blend of Diomere’s king and queen in the boy. “You remind me so much of your mother.”
The prince jerked, dumping his journal to the floor in his haste to rise. Nadia lifted the hood of her cloak from her face, and the boy paused midway and sank back into his chair.
“You saved Lord Cyrene’s life,” the prince said, eying her warily.
A knock sounded, and Nadia stepped behind the door as it opened. “My Prince, is all well?”
Prince Reis’ gaze flicked to Nadia then away. “Yes, Maro. I nodded off, and my journal slipped from my lap.”
“Can I get you anything, m’lord?”
“I’m fine. Get back to your bed.”
“Sleep well, my Prince.”
The door closed, and Nadia moved forward to retrieve the journal from the floor. A sheet of paper slipped from between the pages. She reached for the sketch of a much younger King Delmar of Diomere.
Nadia sat back on her heels and studied the drawing. “You have his hair and eye-shape, though the mismatched colors are something very rare indeed,” Nadia met her nephew’s incredulous stare.
“You know who he is?”
Nadia frowned. “Of course. Don’t you?”
Prince Reis opened his sketch book. “I’ve dreamed of him and a pale-haired woman since I was little. I learned to sketch so that I could show my mother. When she saw this, she smiled sadly and told me it wasn’t yet time. She disappeared soon after.” He handed her several more sketches. “Who are they?”
“They are your parents. King Delmar and Queen Lareina of Diomere.”
The boy wrinkled his forehead. “You’re mistaken. I’m not your country’s missing heir.” He set the journal on a side table, stood, and crossed the room to pull a small trunk from under his bed. He opened the trunk and pulled out a tattered sketch book. He opened the book to a drawing of Jasara. “This is my mother. Dieuroi Mavros is my father.”
Nadia pulled the updated painting of Diomere’s royal family from her pocket. “You’ve been deceived.” She handed the picture to the prince. “These are your parents, and that is your older sister, and apparently, Prince Stefan’s betrothed.”
The prince studied the small portrait and compared it to his sketches. “No, my father wouldn’t have claimed me as his if I wasn’t.”
Nadia studied the stubborn set of his chin, so similar to his real father’s. “Jasara was your nursemaid. When you were an infant, she used a’mi against your guard and vanished with you. I was that guard. I’ve been looking for you ever since.”
“You’re wrong,” the prince insisted, his head bent to avoid her eyes as he gathered up his sketches. “I am the bastard son of the Dieuroi. My brother was ten years old when I was born. He’ll verify that I have always lived in Thuno.” Left unsaid was the fact that the man he believed his father was mostly bedridden by his head illness and spent most of his time ranting madly at those around him.
“Ask him. I think the answers will surprise you.” She moved back to the door. He needed time to process what she’d told him. She paused to look back at her nephew. “Be careful in who you trust. Dieuroi Mavros has become much more paranoid since his illness began and would use you as a political pawn to gain power over Diomere should he discover your real identity. You force any you tell to choose between loyalty to Thuno or the heir to a foreign kingdom.”
Prince Reis, the wide-eyed uncertainty on his face making him appear very young, squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “I am Prince Reis, the bastard prince of Thuno. I need not fear any other outcome to my inquiries.”
Nadia nodded and lifted the hood of her cloak back over her head. “I’m quite certain you’re my nephew. Humor your weary auntie and proceed with caution.”
He remained silent as she slipped out of his room.