Chapter Four

The following night, there was a feast in the Great Hall to welcome home the king and the princess, as well as to celebrate the official declaration of the peace treaty with the Hellfire nation. Charles had instructed Armando to allow the kitchen staff unfettered access to the pantries and use all the food they'd been keeping for reserves. It was understandable that Armando would be hesitant after years of war and careful rationing, since it was his duty as the steward to ensure the keep would always be well-stocked. But Charles had great faith in Armando's abilities and reassured him that one feast would not lead them all to famine.

Later that evening, Charles' breath was taken away when he entered the Great Hall to much fanfare. The massive chandelier had been lit for the first time in years and a mighty fire blazed in the great hearth, spreading much-needed warmth. Music filled the air, courtesy of a group of musicians armed with lutes, harps and a noisy drum. Tables upon tables were laden with roasted pheasant, creamy potatoes and juicy pink hams that glistened with fat. The mood in the Great Hall was generally jovial and celebratory, and Charles eagerly drank in the festive mood, allowing everyone's happy thoughts to buoy him.

His father was already seated at the royal table, which was perched on top of the dais at the head of the hall. He was deep in conversation with Raven, who looked resplendent in a long, white gown that showed off her blue skin and bright copper hair, which she had curled for the evening. Opposite them, Lady Irene Adler had her head tilted as she listened to them, her eyes far and unseeing. She had been Raven's companion since they were both little, and Charles seldom found one without the other. He couldn't help wondering if Lady Adler meant to Raven what Erik did to him.

As in on cue, someone tall, lean and familiar stepped up beside him. "About time you showed up, your Highness," Erik murmured, the corner of his mouth curled up in a teasing smirk.

Charles could hardly be blamed for being struck speechless. In military dress, Erik made for a commanding figure, his broad shoulders nicely outlined by his black doublet and surcoat. They tapered down to a slender waist that Charles ached to put his arms around, so much so that he had to clasp his hands to restrain himself. Erik's dark hair was neatly combed and swept to one side; Charles was close enough to spot the auburn tints in it. It begged for his fingers to run through it.

"Charles?" Erik said more tentatively this time, and Charles could have kicked himself for drifting off like this. Erik might have thought Charles was being aloof after their argument.

"Just woolgathering," Charles admitted. Thankfully Erik seemed to take it as an acceptable response. They made their way together towards the royal table. Once Charles had taken his seat beside his father, Erik went to join Logan and some of the other knights at their own table not too far away. Charles forced himself to tear his gaze away and pay attention to the lords and nobles sitting with him.

"There you are," Raven chirped happily as she squeezed his knee in welcome. "I heard we missed a visit from the esteemed Prince of Worthington?"

"You did," Charles said with a laugh. "Warren's wings have grown so much since we last saw him as a boy, you know. He kept showing off by making me watch as he took flight."

Raven's mouth dropped open in envy. "I would love to have seen that!"

"There will be others," Lady Adler said dreamily. "Others who can fly."

A shiver ran through Charles at the thought of the next generation of gifted children being bestowed with more and more brilliant powers. How wonderful it would be to guide them, teach them, provide some of them a safe haven and a home. Charles often thought of the night he had found a starving Erik in the kitchens, grateful that he had heeded his instincts and gone looking. It also made him wonder how many other children were currently in that same predicament, especially in the war-torn southern kingdoms where gifted people were looked upon as abominations of nature. Maybe Charles could speak to his father about a school or academy of some kind.

As the evening went on, endless streams of mead, ale and cider had loosened the mood and dispensed with any lingering notions of propriety. Nobles and soldiers were mingling, laughing and dancing the night away. The king had excused himself after the feast, while Raven had disappeared somewhere with Lady Adler. So it was up to Charles to entertain himself, talking to Master Grey and his daughter Jean. Nearby, Logan was hovering with a flagon of sale, his mind loudly broadcasting his intent to ask Jean for a dance. Or, at least, once he'd worked up the nerve to do so. Charles hid his smile behind his goblet of wine.

Over at the next table, Charles could not keep away from the siren call of Erik's mind. As always, it was the brightest thing in this room, brighter even than the roaring fire in the great hearth. But outwardly, Erik kept his expression stern and impassive. It amazed Charles how there could be such a contrast between internal and external appearances, and he felt privileged to be allowed a peek into the rich inner workings of Erik's mind.

Is everything alright? Charles ventured. Upon sensing Charles' presence in his mind, a warm smile unfurled on Erik's face. It was quite a beautiful thing, one that transformed his countenance entirely.

Just thinking, Erik sent back. Charles caught a stream of images from Erik's memories of his visit to the Hellfire nation: King Shaw's smirk, the White Queen's glittering diamond form, Raven brushing back Lady Adler's hair to tuck it behind her ear, a grumbling Logan placing saddlebags over his horse. Charles also caught an unbidden flash of Erik thumbing through books at the foreign marketplace, looking for something Charles might like. Had Erik meant to show him that? Charles couldn't help smiling anyway.

I will collect on that gift later. Charles meant to keep his mental voice wry, pairing it with a raised eyebrow to make Erik laugh. But to his surprise, Erik seemed caught off guard, his gaze dropping to his plate as he cleared his throat and began to eat his now cold food with quick, spare movements. In his mind, there was something conflicted roiling under the surface, riddled with tinges of Erik's want. Charles frowned a little, withdrawing from Erik's thoughts. Erik hadn't put up any images of locked doors, but it was close.