Aureate Fates

18

—DREW—

Drew had been standing on the same marble tile for fifteen minutes, simply admiring his new room. He wasn't foreign to the concept of wealth, for he could admit that he'd had it all his life; however, this was a room for kings.

Or brothers to kings, like he was. Or Creator of Anything and Knower of All, as Delphinia called him just now, in their meeting. The Oracle, whom he knew must have lived through ages of human rulers, told him that such a position only arose every two centuries, because the position-holder was as rare as they were envied.

I have seen rulers topple over each other to snag one of your kind. It is marvelous what you can accomplish, and miraculous that Galvinus has blessed us with you," Delphinia had said.

Drew wouldn't call himself Knower of All, or Creator of Anything. But he could admit that he was inclined to hunt for knowledge and hoard memories, to learn languages and numerical sequences with casual attention. Inventing things, he could do well, but he never thought of himself as Creator of Anything. There must have been things that were beyond creation.

Delphinia had told him that he was to create tools and materials that the king required. Weapons that would help his reign prosper, no matter how deadly or outer-worldly those weapons became. Drew took a deep breath as he realized that even here, in this palace and prophecy, he would be in the shadow of Erik Orvar.

At least there's good light in here, Drew thought with relief as he looked at the fading evening sunlight through four massive windows above the headboard.

He finally took another step, and then another, until he could master enough to reach the closet. He could use a fresh set of clothes, untouched by Delphinia's strange magic. Drew had a nearly indescribable feeling about the way that Delphinia carried herself—as if she had lived too long to be just one person. Rather, she may have been one hundred people at once.

Drew could not categorize her, which made him uneasy. She was the Oracle, after all. Born to tell the future while not being entirely human. It made her unfit for any classification.

The closet before him was mahogany, nearly ten feet tall, and took up half of one wall. The hinges of the closet door groaned as Drew hauled it open, telling him that this closet had seen centuries of domesticity. Inside, shelves and hangers held crisp collard shirts of relatively every color. Coats of thick embroidery. Pants of every material.

The abundance of clothes was possibly the only thing in the room that was familiar to him. He had been born and raised on a full stomach and warm garments. Yet, something about settling on a blue button-down shirt and finely made brown pants filled him with guilt. In the crowd a few hours ago, he had seen the hollow faces of starved Verskyians, and wondered how he could be their salvation. How?

A sharp knock at the door startled him, and he tripped as he tried to slip on his left shoe. Drew hissed at the throbbing in his knee, where it had hit the bed post as a result of his clumsiness. He righted himself and swung open the door, slightly breathless.

Reese stood there, tall and dressed in a fresh set of clothes. High Warlock, Delphinia called him. He wore a red coat, with cuffs that were embroidered with gold thread. His hair seemed to be the shade of fresh blood in the dim palace light. Drew wondered if he had been born with hair like that.

"Hello," Drew breathed, feeling a rush of heat at his ears.

Reese's cunning eyes danced with mirth as they scanned Drew's attire. He gave his head a dissatisfied shake, then, "Hi."

Drew scrunched his nose, giving him a look. "No cloak? Seems important if you're to be High Warlock."

Reese's smile belonged to a criminal as he said, "I can wear whatever the hell I want. Unless Delphinia wants to dress me herself."