Page 42 of The Night Prince 6

“Yes. I know that it sounds impossible. But it isn’t. You see,” here, she took another swallow of wine, “it can be done. And I have figured out how. But I require your help.”

Family

“Family!” Vex threw his arms around Rhalyf and Haera’s unsuspecting shoulders. The fact that his niece and nephew flinched did not cool his ardor for the subject or what he intended to ask of them. He squeezed them closer to him as he repeated with warmth and relish, “Family.”

Both of their eyes darted towards him, but then quickly looked forward as if they weren’t utterly shocked–and, likely, horrified–that he was touching them. He’d never touched them before. He rarely touched people. But he was making an exception, turning over a new leaf, or perhaps even to mend his ways as to his niece and nephew. They were, understandably, terrified. He wasn’t sure if they were wrong to be so.

“What about family exactly is on your mind, ah, Xel?” Rhalyf asked with a flash of a nervous smile.

“We are spelled, Rhalyf, so that not even dearest Aquilan can hear what we say. So feel free to call me… Uncle Xel.” He grinned.

Rhalyf swallowed deeply.

“Uncle… Xel means the performance with Rahven certainly, dear brother,” Haera rushed in. “That’s what he’s referring to, of course!”

He knew that she said it not because she thought Rhalyf had been obtuse in not jumping to that conclusion, but because she wanted to head off what she feared what he meant to say. She believed it would be something far less congenial. Eliana had scarred her children well so that their minds went into well-worn grooves of terror.

“Yes, well, yes, that is, of course, still on my mind.” Vex glanced across the room to where his son and Aquilan were speaking with Rohannan and his daughter.

Well, Aquilan was speaking while his son appeared stoic and rebuffed all attempts of the following throng who wished to speak to him. People were clustered in a little half-moon shaped group about a dozen feet away from Rahven and watching his son avidly. Their eyes were wide with wonder. They were occasionally pointing at Rahven–when he did not turn their way–and speaking excitedly to one another.

“... so handsome! Did you know that they are father and son?” one woman excitedly proclaimed.

He beamed as the person she spoke to, glanced over at him and whispered back, “I can see the resemblance!”

They did look alike to be sure, but Rahven definitely resembled Lysanthir more. Something in the jaw. Or perhaps it was the eyes. Yes, it was the eyes.

“... no idea he could sing!” A man exclaimed.

“Well, clearly they are a musical family,” another answered.

Family. Yes, yes, family has its benefits.

Both his and Rahven’s songs had caused massive amounts of feelings to emerge in the humans. Other than the Bastons and Finley, the rest of the humans were not given the visions that had accompanied the songs. But that had not mattered to them. Their fate–which had perhaps reminded Vex of the Kindreth’s terrible past and inspired him–with the Leviathan attack, but, more importantly, with their current helpless status and their grief had been perfectly encapsulated in the songs.

But instead of being left broken and despairing, they had been heartened by a sense of glory, bravery, and, somehow, hope that they had gotten from the end of Rahven’s song especially. Now he and his son were both rockstars. Not that his son wanted that at all. The circle of space around his son was created by Rahven–unknowingly–casting a spell that told people to “stand back” because it was “dangerous”. Ah, how he admired his Rahven. So unconventional! He cared nothing about what anyone thought.

Refreshing!

He squeezed his niece and nephew’s shoulders companionably again. They stiffened again, but he realized it would take time for that atavistic response to die down.

“While my delightful niece here is quite right that I am still thinking of Rahven and my duet, I do mean something more when I say family,” Vex told them.

“Oh?” Haera let out a nervous laugh that she somehow managed to make sound girlish and inviting. “What, pray tell, would that be, Uncle Xel?”

Eliana really had trained her well. Or she had adapted. He thought it was quite a bit of the latter. Which was why he was reaching out to her about this.

“As you may have intuited from our duet, Rahven and I are now… well, I have made my decision,” he said, smiling gloriously and dipping his head as a well-wisher came up and enthused on his musical prowess. “Yes, yes, I so appreciate you as well! Now, what was I saying? Oh, yes, family.”

“What do you want?” Rhalyf asked simply.

He squeezed Rhalyf’s shoulder and rocked him back and forth a bit. “I do so enjoy your directness, Rhalyf. Not at all how you deal with anyone else. But with me you drop all pretense and just come out with it!”

Rhalyf let out a breath. His eyes were tracking Finley as if the young man were a lodestone for him. Finley was over with the Bastons who were speaking to Elasha and Darcassan. Upon seeing his gaze on him, Darcassan started and attempted to hide behind Michael Baston. Vex smiled. That caused Darcassan to pale and scooch down.

“Forgive me, Uncle. I am… a little off my game tonight. The music was…” Here, Rhalyf pressed his lips together. “Mother told me about Lysanthir, but she didn’t quite capture… the horror of it.”

Vex tore his eyes from Darcassan and glanced at his nephew. Eliana was what the humans would call a sociopath. She likely would be called many things that could be classified in their psychological manuals. She was a carbon copy of their father. That affliction had clearly skipped over the second generation. Rhalyf looked as if he had swallowed glass at the mere memory of the vision.