Arrival of the Traveler (Waldgrave Book 1) (36 page)

Hesper wasn’t looking well. She had gone beyond queasiness and started vomiting. Her face looked blotchy and her hair was in a perpetual state of greasy disorder. She was spending most of her time crashed in the Mason’s room on the third floor, lying on an inflatable bed in her pajamas reading and playing games on Eric’s laptop. Despite the fact that she acted miserable, she insisted that she felt fine. Better than fine, actually—she was in the mood for shopping.

“I think I’m grounded.” Lena explained. “Or wait…no, I can go. I’m not technically grounded until after everyone leaves. I mean, if I get permission and all that jazz.”

“What’d you do?” Hesper asked with disinterest. Most of the things that got Lena in trouble ranged from boring to mild.

Lena made a face. “I can’t tell you now, but it was really, really bad. Hesper, I promise you’d be proud.”

“Well, as long as I would be proud. You’d better go ask now, because we want to go this afternoon.” Hesper said doubtfully.

Lena asked Howard, who wasn’t happy that she was asking to go, but wanted to keep up appearances…Council members don’t get grounded, after all. It was more complicated than the last time because Hesper wasn’t on anyone’s good side anymore, but Howard had the afternoon off because of the funeral and was available to take her. She felt guilty at first for making him do this, but once they were actually in the store she was very happy she had come.

Hesper made a beeline for a stack of sweats, passing up her usual designer-wear. At first, Lena thought this was because she wasn’t buying on her parent’s card anymore, but then a pattern began to emerge: pants with elastic waistbands and really baggy shirts. Lena looked at Hesper, and for the first time noticed that even though she had been vomiting every morning for a week, she was actually looking slightly fuller than usual. She grabbed her by the arm and pulled her behind a tall display of magazines.

“Are you pregnant?” She asked in an excited whisper.

Hesper rolled her eyes. “No, Lena, I just think tent shirts are all the fashion right now. Of course I’m pregnant.”

The two stared each other down for a moment. Lena shook her head in disbelief, and cracked a smile. “Was it planned?”

They laughed. Hesper said it kind of was, but it was kind of a surprise. “You and Eric…Serena knew, like, the day I got sick. The day. She knew before I did, and it was really creepy. Don’t tell anyone, though. I’m really not ready to get henpecked to death.”

They walked out from behind the display, and Serena ran up to them. “This store actually does have a maternity section.”

Howard caught on pretty quickly after that, offered his congratulations, and then wandered off to the appliances section nearby under the pretense that the washer and dryer needed to be replaced. Serena was absolutely thrilled, and walked around picking up things for Hesper to try on.

“I can’t believe there’s going to be a baby in the family! This is so exciting!” She grinned.

Hesper smiled and gave Lena a look. It was exciting. At the same time, Lena couldn’t believe Hesper was going to be a mother in less than a year. It was a little scary, but she seemed happy, so Lena tried to be happy for her. They tried on clothes for about an hour, met back up with Howard, checked out, and then Howard took them out for an early dinner to celebrate. It was amazing to Lena how much like her usual self Hesper seemed to be.

“I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful mother, Hesper.” Howard said, putting his napkin in his lap as the waitress delivered their food. “Congratulations again. Have you thought about names at all?”

“A little, but we’re not sure yet. What are you smiling at?” Hesper laughed at Lena’s expression.

“I don’t know. It’s just weird, that’s all.” Lena said.

“What?” Hesper asked.

“Well, you just got married, and I’m not even over that one yet, and now you’re having a baby. Weird.” Lena took slow, steady drinks from her soda to avoid talking any more. Hesper laughed again.

“It’s not that weird.” Hesper said. “Lots of people get pregnant. You’re telling me you don’t think there will be little Grifflets running around someday?”

Howard and Lena simultaneously choked on their food. Lena coughed. “No! Hell no!” She coughed again. She had carbonated beverage in her nasal passage. “For God’s sake, we’re eating, Hesper!”

Hesper smiled coyly. 
Yeah, whatever Lena.

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence as everyone stared at each other. Finally, Serena changed the subject by bringing up the exposition. It was drawing ever closer, and Howard informed the group that the meetings were progressing somewhat faster than usual since part of the year’s business had been dealt with during the unplanned meeting in April. Lena only had six days left, but she was ready. She had put a lot of thought and effort into the exposition despite the fact that Griffin had all but ensured that she would get in anyway, even if she got up and recited limericks, and she was as ready as she would ever be.

The next few days passed very much as Lena expected them to. Howard made some last minute introductions involving retired members of the Council and more recent family heirs, Lena continued to overlook Ava’s exaggerations involving Griffin as graciously as she could, Hesper kept to herself in the room on the third floor, and Serafina had gone from being a much avoided obnoxious teenager to a much avoided obnoxious newlywed.

The text translations continued with Griffin, though he remained somewhat distant and tired. Lena had to wonder what he was doing that caused him to be so perpetually fatigued; it was weird to see him expressing emotion so openly. Openly for Griffin, anyway; he claimed it was because he was work-exhausted. She had never told anyone that she had seen Master Corbett in the library the night before the suicide; she doubted it would have made any difference if she had, but there was a nagging guilt in her stomach that she hadn’t tried. They had gone over Dobry Daray’s journals again because Edward Daray’s journals were nowhere to be found, and then Griffin had finally found Silas Cassius’s books stowed in an out of the way corner on the fifth floor—one of the house hands must have thought they were junk. They certainly looked like junk.

The earlier books were fairly dull except for one fact: Silas had taken it upon himself to write out a list of special abilities possessed only by those of the royal blood. He was a very bright man, and apparently somewhat of a scientist, as he made mention of what he called “innateness that is passed from parent to child”—genetics. He commented that while Silenti of the “common” blood appeared to have abilities resembling and on occasion exceeding those of their parents if special attentions to training and education were given, some of the abilities possessed by those of the “royal” blood were exclusive—no other Silenti had ever expressed them. As Lena started translating the section, she couldn’t help but notice that Griffin seemed unusually attentive.

“What?” She asked.

“I’ve never read this one, obviously.” He said. “I’ve never heard this part.”

Lena looked back at the script. “ ‘Me and all of my kin possess…Osneks?’ Griffin?”

Griffin furrowed his brow. “Well, os neks—two words—is ‘the sight of death.’”

“The sight of death…” Lena shivered. She knew exactly what Silas was talking about. It was a look; there was a look in someone’s eyes before they died, and she had seen it several times. It was like a person’s soul was pushing out. She had seen it countless times in her travels…as a child, she had thought it was something like eye color, because some people had it and some people didn’t, and she never stuck around long enough to hear about people’s deaths. Then there came the moment they had stepped onto the train in Egypt…her father’s eyes had changed. She hadn’t known what it meant, and thought it was a trick of the light. And then there was the week her grandmother’s eyes had changed, and she died, and Lena drew the connection. She knew what Silas was talking about. She looked up and saw that Griffin was watching her intently. She focused her attention back on the book.

“‘It is also of note that creations from the hand of one of royal blood might only be destroyed by another of royal blood.’ Wow, really?”

Griffin shook his head. “I guess so…”

Lena stared at the book for a moment, and then something dawned on her. “How can that be true? Master Daray said some of these books were destroyed in a fire, right?”

Griffin looked confused, and opened his mouth to answer, but a voice from across the room cut him off.

“That ability died out generations ago, I’m afraid…”

Lena spun around and saw Master Daray standing in the door frame, wearing his usual style of suit and still toting a cane. The color had returned to his face, but that look was still in his eyes. Osneks. Lena shuddered. Griffin stood up and offered his chair, which Daray took. Daray’s cat came trotting into the room, jumped up onto the desk, and stretched out to take a nap.

“Silas was the last of our kind to allege that ability. It was thinning of the blood, if the ability ever existed to begin with. I’m sure you’ll find several things in those old books that aren’t quite accurate—Silas was a little overzealous about his position over the other Silenti, and he made many claims that went unverified for years. Griffin, fetch a pen and paper from the desk, and the book of matches from the mantle.”

Griffin brought the requested items, and Lena watched as Master Daray wrote something out on the sheet of paper and then passed it to Griffin. “Burn it.”

Without hesitation, Griffin struck a match and the paper curled into ashes.

“There—you see? If you read on, he also claims something about how all royal blooded Silenti are innately strong thought-speak users and how they live with full sight of everything in the Silenti world…Of course, you’re proof those things aren’t true, Eden. Truly gifted Silenti are diamonds in the rough as often as not; just look at the rest of Griffin’s family if you need further proof. The clock is on the bookshelf, by the way. ”

Lena glanced over Daray’s shoulder. The bookshelf stretched in a nauseating way and books sorted themselves to the left and right as a glass-covered clock jerked up between them. The ticking that Lena had been hearing for weeks finally had a source. “So it would seem. Why are you here?”

“First and foremost, it’s my office, in my house, and I come and go as I please.” Daray said. “Now I’ve come to ask after the progress of your exposition.”

Lena’s eyes shifted to the door that concealed the library staircase. Daray laughed hollowly.

“You’re actually worried about the rules of it?” He said dismissively. “Howard has had quite an effect on you. It’s not cheating, it’s politics. All I asked was how it was going for you, not what you’re going to say.”

Lena looked down at her lap, unsure if it was really against the rules or not. “It’s going fine. I’m ready.”

Daray nodded and his thin lips curved into a smile. “That’s good, then. You’re devoted, and I admire that. You’re devoted to the wrong things in life, but I assure you you’ll see the light eventually. You remind me very much of my wife.”

Lena was taken aback. “I doubt that.”

“Why?” Daray asked.

Lena scoffed. “Someone as intelligent as me wouldn’t marry someone like you. And I doubt you’d ever want to marry someone like me, because I don’t want kids. I deal with those issues on a daily basis.”

Daray’s smile fell slightly, and Lena watched in horror as he extended a hand that landed firmly on her shoulder. “Want has nothing to do with marriage, Eden. Marriage is about responsibility and duty. And you are like her. For that reason, I’m sure we’ll come to an understanding.” The hand withdrew, and Daray stood. Lena stared into the empty chair he had been occupying, unable to move. Her heart was thudding out of control.

He struggled to straighten his poster, crutching heavily on the edge of the table. “Griffin, I need you to help me with the paperwork for the year’s travel arrangements. I’ve left a list of all the cities and dates in the desk drawer. I’m going to be predisposed again this evening, and won’t be able to make it to dinner, so have something sent up.”

“Of course.” Griffin replied.

Daray turned and started for the stairs, but then stopped. “Oh. And forget that Silas Cassius garbage. Move on to…well, I’ll find it for you. It’s an account by Dominic Cassius.” Daray closed the book on the table and took it with him as he left.

Griffin sat back down at the table. He ignored the fact that Lena was still gazing blankly into the thin air that used to be her grandfather. “He’s taken a liking to you. He doesn’t talk about his wife much.”

Lena finally released her stare and focused on Griffin. “I don’t care what he says. If she was married to him, we were nothing like each other.”

“He’s not that bad.” Griffin said. “He’s offered nothing but support for your campaign to get on the Council, even though he doesn’t like it.”

“I’m sure he’s getting something out of it. He has to be.” Lena shot a look at Griffin. “What do you know about that?”

But Griffin only smirked. “You’re so suspicious of him…did it ever occur to you that it might just be because you remind him of his wife?”

Daray didn’t seem the type to be nostalgic, but Griffin’s words still made her shudder again. She suddenly found herself hoping that he actually did have some sort of cruel and devious plan circling around her admission to the Council. He had to—Master Daray had never acted purely for the sake of anyone else’s interests. There was something missing. “Why wasn’t he angry at me?”