Page 9 of The Half King
“It’s important for your mental wellness that you maintain a worship schedule,” he advised as they continued up the path, passing neatly planted rows of blossoming pear trees. “You may join the Order in using the palace sanctuary. It’s in a detached building near the east gardens. Laymen aren’t permitted inside.”
Ah. Cerise understood his message. The sanctuary was an escape from court. She was glad to hear it, especially with the press of people behind her. She could almost feel their gazes on her back. She couldn’t imagine what she had done to merit such a reception.
“And His Majesty asked me to convey his regrets at not being able to greet you in person.” Father Padron used a hand to indicate the shadows tumbling down the stone steps of the entrance in front of them. “He is indisposed until morning.”
“I look forward to meeting him,” she said. “May I inquire about His Majesty?”
“You may ask me anything, Cerise.”
“When he vanishes at night…where does he go? Is he inallof the shadows?”
She glanced at the dark silhouette of her own form, and her imagination conjured a pair of invisible eyes looking back at her. She had heard stories that the king’s nights in the shadows had acquainted him with demons and that he’d made deals to prevent his parents from conceiving another heir. She didn’t believe that—notreally—but there had also been chatter in the market last year, whispers of unnatural deaths at the palace. The former king and queen had been found dead in their chambers, their rigid bodies an identical shade of bluish gray. And according to palace servants, Kian hadn’t seemed surprised by the news.
Rumors and nonsense. Probably.
There was a smile in Father Padron’s voice when he answered. “His Majesty once told me that he has no memory of his nighttime hours and that he awakes at sunrise as if he’d merely blinked. I have no reason to doubt him.”
She preferred that answer to the thought of the king spying on her through the shadows. She wanted to ask another, more delicate question. The Mortara curse differed from that of the other noble dynasties. For Solon, Calatris, and Petros firstborns, their curse manifested fully on their twentieth birthday, their Claiming Day. After that, the nobles lived on for any number of years, or at least survived, iflivingwas too generous a word. But Mortara firstborns began disappearing at sunset on their Claiming Day, and in the year that followed, the curse consumed their daytime hours as well, until the firstborn faded out of existence. Few Mortara firstborns survived beyond twenty-one. The king likely had six more moons before he vanished forever and left behind a war for his empty throne. The exact timing would depend on how far the curse had advanced, how quickly it was consuming him during the day.
“After sunrise,” Cerise began, “is His Majesty fully present until the sun sets?”
“Fully present?” Father Padron asked. “No, unfortunately he is not. The curse has infringed on His Majesty’s daylight hours, though I’m unable to say to what extent. His Majesty keeps to himself during the day, as is his privilege.”
“I see.”
“You may consider asking his courtesan,” Father Padron suggested. “She would know better than I how the king passes his time.”
Cerise doubted that would provide an answer. If the king’s courtesan had any regard for him, she would never betray his secrets.
“Here we are,” Father Padron said as they climbed the steps and entered the castle foyer. “Ah, there’s Daerick.” He nodded at a tall, dark-haired boy loitering at the base of the staircase. The boy was dressed in a blue silk shirt tucked into slim-fitting trousers, and there seemed to be something akin to bean sprouts dangling from his chin. On closer inspection, she found it was a beard…more or less. He was watching her, too, but with an expression of interest instead of morbid fascination. “I’ll let him show you to your quarters. I have a matter to attend to.”
Cerise wondered if the “matter” was about the elderly woman who had been ushered away. Father Padron seemed gentle, but some of his priests might not be, and Cerise didn’t want the woman punished too harshly for the sign she had made. But despite Father Padron’s invitation to ask him anything, the topic seemed too charged for their first meeting. She would ask him about it tomorrow.
“Cerise,” Father Padron said, “this is Daerick Calatris, the king’s private historian. No one knows more about the sacred scrolls than he does. In fact, I believe he can recite them from memory—”
“In ten languages,” Daerick interjected. “Not that I’m counting.”
“So if anyone can assist you in your new role, it’s him.”
“I’m grateful for the help,” she said. “My appointment as His Majesty’s emissary was abrupt. I have much to learn. I look forward to working with you, Lord Calatris.”
Daerick bowed. “Not nearly as much as I do, my lady.” He spoke without a hint of sarcasm, smiling in a way that crinkled the skin around his eyes. Cerise noticed that his irises were deep brown, brimming with a sharpness that reflected his intelligence.
He must be a firstborn.
Sympathy tugged at her ribs. The Calatris curse was one of the cruelest. Scrolls about the Great Betrayal said that a Calatris scholar with a brilliant intellect had devised the method to slay the goddess. As punishment, his firstborn descendants were cursed with more knowledge than the mortal mind could bear. Cerise didn’t want to imagine what Daerick’s smiling eyes would look like when his Claiming Day arrived and filled his mind to the breaking point with all the secrets of the universe.
He extended an elbow. “Shall we?”
As she settled a hand on his forearm, her insides stirred with guilt. She had always felt a deep connection to the goddess, even the vengeful side of Shiera, because darkness was just as important as the light. But after all this time, surely the goddess would let them break the curses. Surely the debt had been paid.
“The king dismissed his court a while ago,” Daerick said, leading her up the stairs, “so there are plenty of empty suites. I chose your quarters myself. They’re situated in the best spot. Yours has the most shade during the day, and the windows face east so the sunrise will wake you for morning prayers.” He added, “I know your schedule because my brother lives in a temple on Calatris.”
“Is he a priest in training?”
“Yes, his gift manifested on our nineteenth birthday.”
“Ourbirthday?”
