Chapter 24
Harrow’s roomis the last place I want to be. But I can’t outright say so. And I can’t abandon a patient.
“I…sure.” I quickly load all the essentials I can think of, and then some, into a basket and follow behind Eldas. “Hook, go,” I command the beast. I don’t want to bring him to Harrow’s room. I wouldn’t be surprised if the young prince found out after the fact and tried to get Hook taken from me somehow as a result. Hook looks at me with his yellow eyes and tilts his head. “It’s all right, Hook, go back to the Fade. I’ll whistle for you later.”
Hook skulks between the shadows of the world as Eldas and I depart. We walk through the quiet castle and into the East Wing. I recognize the cramped hallways filled with relics and tapestries from dinner the night before. We arrive at a landing not unlike my own and enter into a wreck of an apartment.
Signs of debauchery litter the floor. Clothes are strewn about. There are remnants of a party long gone, waiting long enough to be cleaned that a stale smell hangs in the air.
Eldas pauses with a heavy sigh. He glances over his shoulder at me. “Sorry for this… The bedroom is right through here.”
We carefully step over suspect objects as we navigate through an archway paneled with sheer curtains. Behind is a large, circular bed that’s just as much of a mess as the rest of the room. Eldas sets Harrow down and I take the liberty of cleaning off a side table to arrange my clerical items.
“Tell me what he will need.” Eldas gently situates the blankets around his youngest brother.
“When he wakes, he’ll need to drink the rest of this. Then, after that, this powder should be mixed with water and he should get all of that down at once. But I can come back and see to his care.”
Eldas looks up at me from the edge of the bed. His knee almost touches my thigh as he shifts to face me more. I continue to focus on my herbs and salves.
“You would do that for my wretch of a brother?”
“Even wretches need care.” I pause and my eyes drift to Harrow. He no longer looks like the antagonistic terror I first met. Asleep, he looks younger and softer—vulnerable, almost. “No…he’s not a wretch, just a bit misguided, I’d bet.” The people who act the worst are often hurting the worst. “He especially needs care.” More than I can give. I suspect Harrow’s problems are deeper than physiological.
“He does,” Eldas agrees faintly. “It’s my fault that he is this way.” I stay silent as Eldas speaks. “Managing the spares to the Elf King has been tricky throughout history. The Elf King has always been able to ascend to the throne, thanks in part to the protections that surround the heir from birth. So spares have never been needed… Our brother, Drestin, was simple. He had drive and gladly accepted his post at Westwatch.
“But Harrow… Our mother has always been soft on him. He was the one son who she could cling to the longest. She dotes on him; Father did too. And I…”
“You resented him for it,” I finish.
“Yes.” Eldas presses his eyes closed and buries his face in his hand. “I was the heir to all of Midscape, and I envied my little brother.”
“You didn’t have it easy.” Sorrow wells in me. It’s as though I’ve finally penetrated through the overwhelming wall of permafrost that surrounds this man and caught something real, something warm—pain. “You couldn’t go out. You were the heir from the moment you were born and groomed as such. Your father was in a complicated situation between your mother and his queen. Being between him and her and Alice couldn’t have been easy—”
“Alice was my savior,” he interrupts. “Without her, I would’ve gone mad.”
“Oh.” All his past mentions of Alice take on new meaning.
“She was good to me. My mother knew that I was destined to be king and that destiny would take me from her. From the moment I was born she handed me off to the wet nurses and washed her hands of me.”
Family dinners flash before my eyes. I can still hear the echoes of my parents tucking me into bed, assuring me that there were no monsters lurking in the corners of our attic. I remember the first time my mother took me out into the fields to show me what she knew of herbs and plants. Her wails as I left fill my ears and the sight of my father’s red eyes flash before my eyes.
Did Eldas hate me then? Did he hate me for the family I had that he was denied? Did he rip me from them so callously because of spite?
The questions sting my tongue as tears sting my eyes. It’s likely true. I should likely hate him all the more now.
But…I don’t. I can’t. Something in me is shifting now that I’ve seen him like this and know what I know. It’s shifting more than it did from kisses against a wall. I may never be able to look at him the same way again.
Maybe I don’t want to. I feel for him deeper than I ever expected and I don’t dislike it.
“Alice took pity on me when no one else would,” he continues, oblivious to my turmoil. “She was the best thing I had. And I mourned her death daily for far too long.”
Just like I mourn your departure when it hasn’t even come to pass—I can almost hear the unspoken words and I wonder if I’ve fabricated them entirely.
“Eldas, I—”
“Where is he?” A curt voice cuts through the air as the door to the main room snaps open. Speaking of mothers… “Where is my darling boy?” A woman with sharp features and eyes just as cold as Eldas’s storms in, curtains fluttering behind her. I wonder if part of the reason why she couldn’t tolerate Eldas was because of how much he looks like her. “What have you done to him?”
I blink, realizing her attention rests solely on myself. “What? Me?”