#jarsis

               As the cheering dies down King Thadius leads his son from the stage into the thick of people. Hunters crowd around them the moment they step off stage. Everyone makes offerings to the gods hoping that the Prince may cross into their house when his time comes. Three generations of Hunter Kings prove they don’t have to hope too hard. Shamen and Necromancers pray quietly with each other that Hades would find their houses instead. Tamers decide the best course is to chat idly with the new heir. Tamers never were ones to hope too much.

               Thadius paves a way through the crowd to the back of the room. The others take the hint and leave the two alone. Thadius finds a small cliff in the castle’s design to rest on. He leans his cane against the wall next to him. Hades—a strangely Pascali name for the crowned Prince of Alliel--hides in a corner nearest to his father. The king looks at me, and smiles.

               “Not one for crowds, are you?” His smile is forced, his breathing labored.

               I force myself not to shrink away. Even now I have such a hard time being comfortable around him. I nod.

               He grunts in approval. “They get more and more exhausting each time.” He looks down at Hades and pats his head. “How are you then? Not too scared I hope.”

               Hades buries his head into his knees without a word.

               Thadius’s smile faulters.

               From the mirth, three figures walk regally toward us. Two young men, whom no one would guess are twins, and our mother, who only Hades and I resemble. The tawny brown of her skin stands out against the twins’ blinding whiteness. Jeeves is the thinnest of the bunch with only a bit of muscle to show he’s an army man. Jarsis stands above all the others, broad as mother with no meat on his bones. Mother, Lydia, is by far the shortest, plumpest lady in the whole room. By far the happiest as well. She has hardly a care for any strange looks her way.

               Jeeves walks as stiffly as his position demands. His arms are crossed, and his head held high. His clothes are as stiff as he is. A thick, high collared military coat in red, white, and gold. Black trousers that don’t move with his legs. His black shoes are polished, perhaps a bit too much. He sneers at each person he’s forced to walk past.

               Jarsis walks about cautiously, tapping his walking stick in front of him. His glassy eyes look at nothing in particular. The stiffness of his posture suggests he’s none too comfortable in the crowd. His silken, white robes hang off him like they want to be on the floor instead of on him. His white hair folds over itself, threatening to cover his eyes.

               Mother bounces happily. Her skirt catches under her shoes because she refuses to keep hold of it. Her blue braid swings wildly behind her back. The smile on her face puffs her cheeks out more. The blues and greens of her dress glimmer under the light of the chandelier. She seems to think keeping a hand at Jarsis’s back will keep him from bumping into anything. Jeeves somehow keeps away from Mother’s grasp.

               Lydia kneels to meet Hades. “There, there dear. No need to cry. It’s all just a show, right?”

               “Let the boy cry, Lydia,” Thadius says. “Show or not, a crowd this big would scare anyone.”

               “Even you, Father?” Jarsis’s voice is deliberately soft and angelic. Despite being such a large person, his voice is quite delicate.

               “More than most, I’d say.”

               Mother wraps an arm around Hades before turning to me. “And you, love, how are you taking all this?”

               I pull my knees closer to my chest. They’re already starting to hurt, but I don’t want to let them go.

               “Seems none of us are too good with crowds,” Jeeves huffs.

               Jarsis straightens his back, his smile spreading. “I’d say I’m rather good with them. Speaking to them mostly. Waving a stick around and hitting people’s ankles seems to be frowned upon.”

               Mother’s hand shoots into the air. “I love crowds! There’s always such lively people among them.”

               Jeeves sighs and pushes his red hair out of his face. “Of course. The ones who don’t have to deal with them love them the most. Mind sparing some of your enthusiasm?”

               “Would if I could, Killer.” Jarsis whacks him on the back.

               “It takes a special kind of person to enjoy such a rowdy bunch,” Mother assures.

               Jeeves sighs again.

               Thadius beams proudly at his family. The smile on his face is finally genuine. He gathers up his cane and stands. “I think I’ve had enough of all this noise. But, before I retire,” he looks at me, “Kai, I’d like to talk to you in my study.”

               I feel everyone’s eyes on me, but I can’t shrink away. I gather up my courage, stand, and follow Father to his study. Jeeves brushes a hand across my shoulder as I pass. Comfort without being obvious.

               The Throne room is a closed, circular area with heavy oak doors leading out to various hallways. Most people dare not leave the party in the throne room, and it’s frankly frowned upon to do so. Those who do either live here or work here. The hall to the study is mostly empty save for a few guards. This is the king’s wing, and everyone knows that.

               It’s a maze of twists and turns, and doors to other hallways. Apparently, Thadius’s father was often paranoid despite himself, so he rebuilt various parts of the castle to be deliberately confusing. There are hidden passages behind bookcases and loose stones. Hades and I found one behind the stove in the kitchen once. We followed it all the way to the cemetery. We were so spooked we promised not to tell anyone.

               I run into Father as he stops in front of me. He chuckles as he unlocks the door to his study. The place is horribly bland and depressing. The only things he has is a desk almost as big as he is with a candle in the corner. Two dusty chairs sit in front of it.

               He hobbles to his desk and I follow close behind. The whole study has a strange, unnatural feeling to it. Sitting in the dusty chair forces a weight on me I’ve never experienced. Like the world has just been placed on my shoulders. The look in Father’s eyes is meant to be calming, but all I can focus on are the bags under them growing purple. It highlights his sickly pale skin in the worst way possible. Sweat shines on his forehead.

               “Remind me, child, how old are you?”

               My voice catches in my throat. My mouth goes dry. I’m not entirely sure myself. I think I know the truth, but something in the back of my mind tells me that saying it out loud would put me in danger.

               “No older than Hades, isn’t that right?”

               Does he know? I nod my head.

               He looks down at his desk. A pencil moves between his fingers. “As I thought.” His tone sounds disappointed. He takes a breath and looks back at me. “Though young you may be, I must ask something very important of you.” He mulls something over in his mind, shifting his gaze between my eyes. “Would you consider Hades a friend?”

               I nod eagerly. “Yes, sir.”

               He smiles. “Good.” He leans forward, resting on his arms. “Do you remember your father?”

               My heart wretches. For the first time in a while I’m reminded that the man in front of me—though he’s married to my mother—is still technically my uncle. The mere thought angers me. “I understand my relations well, but you’re the one who raised me. You’re my father.” I can see the heartache in his eyes. He’s torn.

               “Right then.” He leans back. “Cornelius was my Guardian. He kept me safe when I most needed, in every situation he could stick his nose in. So just about every situation.” He laughs to himself before getting serious again. “As Hades is now Crowned Prince he is in need of his own Guardian. Do you know what I’m trying to ask you?”

               I think I do, but I don’t want to be wrong. I stare at him blankly.

               “Kaiton, I understand the problems I am about to instigate by asking this, but I would like you to be Hades’s Guardian.”

               I don’t understand what he means by that, but I hardly know what all is involved with being a Guardian. If all it means is that I keep Hades safe, then I can do that. I do that enough as it is. “Of course.” It comes out so soft.

               “Jerk! You didn’t have to hurt me.”

               “You sucker punched me, made me chase after you, then scared my heart out of my chest. I deserve retribution.” I cross my arms.

               He pouts. “I didn’t make you chase me.”

               That’s the one you dispute? “You woke me up, and sucker punched me. The Lira instinct was too strong after that. I had to chase you, or else I would’ve keeled over and died.”

               “Then die,” he mumbles.

               I mess up his spiked-up hair, and he whines. “You don’t mean that. What would you do if I was gone?”

               He pouts. “Cry, probably.”

               “Exactly,” I say triumphantly. I take a hold on his arm. “Now, let’s go. We’re gonna be late for class again.”

               “Or,” he draws out, pulling his arm away, “we could not do that.”

               I stare at him incredulously. “Are you stoned?”

               “No, just bored.”

               I cross my arms. “What’re you trying to get away from this time?”

               “Nothing really.” He begins to saunter off. “I just wanna know what everyone else is up to.”

               I follow after. “We’re gonna get in trouble.” More like I’ll get in trouble. Because it’s my fault for not being able to drag the mule to the watering hole.

               “What’s he gonna do? Give us more homework?”

               No. He’s going to whack me with a ruler when you’re not looking. “Is it worth the shame?”

               He waves his hand around. “Shame is a constantly changing societal pressure. It doesn’t really matter.”

               “Are you sure you’re only twelve?”

               He puffs out his cheeks. “Thirteen!”

               “Yeah, next year.” I ruffle his hair.

               He snatches my hand and pulls me along. “Whatever. Just come on.”

               Despite my protests, he keeps walking. I don’t really put up a fight. As much as I don’t want the ruler, I want even less to hear Titus drone on for four hours. Hades’s grip on my wrist slackens, and I pull myself free. He seems to know exactly which way to turn. When I ask him where we’re going, he just shrugs.

               “Anywhere with people.”

               “That seems counter intuitive.”

               “Just keep up.”

               Why do I stay around you?

               The twists and turns are still wildly confusing. Even after so many years growing up here I can’t tell the east wing from the west wing. I still get confused on my way to the dining hall. Hades says he has it all mapped out in his head. I don’t think so. The main hallways and short cuts, sure, but I know a few hidden away that he’s never been through. Most of them lead to the library.

               Hades halts me with a hand on my shoulder. One of the doors is open just a bit too much, and angry voices can be heard from inside. Hades crouches next to it. I want to pull him away in case someone sees, but my curiosity gets the better of me. I kneel next to him, looking over his shoulder to peek inside.

               Even from behind I can tell Jeeves apart. A white vest like thing clings to his body. He struggles to keep his posture straight. Another voice is fighting with him. From the higher, more defensive pitch I’d say it’s Diana, but it’s hard to say. They might be dating, but hardly anyone sees them together. I can barely make out her hands motioning wildly.

               “You were all the way in Elt—," Diana cries.

               “Meeting with a political leader, yes, I know where I was at the time.” Jeeves’s voice is worn. They must have been at this for a while.

               “How was I supposed to know if you were going to come back?”

               “Why wouldn’t I have come back? When have I ever not come back?”

               “You’re a very important man, dear.” Her voice goes from angry to passive like it’s nothing.

               “Don’t.” Jeeves drops his head. His arms are crossed over his chest.

               “I’m just saying, important people attract bad company. I know more than a few people who would like to see you dead.”

               Jeeves sighs. “I know a country’s worth of people who’d like to see me dead, but, please, tell me how my potential death excuses your disloyalty.”

               “It didn’t mean anything, dear.”

               Jeeves goes silent.

               Diana reaches for his face.

               He bats her hand away. “Leave.”

               “Dear—”

               “Leave,” he says with more force. “I’m upset, and disgusted, and I’m thinking too much. Just leave before I do or say something I’ll regret.”

               “But, Jeeves—”

               “Leave!” A forceful exclamation that not even the privates he bosses around have heard. So unlike him I can hardly believe it came from my brother’s mouth.

               I gather Hades up and push him down the hallway before Diana can realize we were snooping. The clicking of her boots stops for a moment behind us. I pull Hades along faster. Eventually the clicking fades off into the other side of the hall. As my heart calms so does my pace. There’s a slight furrow in Hades brow. His posture is ridged. I won’t annoy him any further. We’re both angry, right now, so it wouldn’t do much good.

               After a time of talking to himself and throwing his hands about he finally calms down. He slows his pace considerably. My head still plays out the scene. It makes me angry the more I think about it. I can only imagen what’s going through Jeeves’s head.

               Hades decides to pull the door open himself this time. He stays smart and crouches behind the door while I take position opposite of him. I can clearly see Jarsis with his sickly-sweet smile. It’s more sinister. Everything about his demeanor is relaxed. One arm settles on the arm rest of his chair while the other wraps around and fiddles with his cane. The person at the other end of the table is hidden behind the wall.

               “I would consider yourself very lucky, Mr. Holt,” Jarsis says in his sweetest voice. “Not very many get away with such things.”

               Mr. Holt stutters his apologies. “It was an honest mistake, sir. I didn’t mean to upset the good doctor. I was merely unaware you were nearby.”

               “Yet you would say such things to my poor mother?” His smile fades. “Who told you that was a good idea?”

               “Again, sir, I did not wish to upset. I was simply under the impression that she was, um…”

               “Available?” Jarsis leans forward and folds his fingers together. “You would prey on my poor, grieving mother?”

               Mr. Holt gives an awkward chuckle. “But it has been so long—”

               “For you or for her?” Jasis leans back. “Feel lucky that I am not in charge, my friend, or else your head would be on a pike.” He lets the words sink in. “You may go, Mr. Holt.” A smile reappears on his face. “And remember the lesson we’ve learned today.”

               Hades and I bolt up and stand on either side of the door. We flatten ourselves against the wall, hoping that will hide us. Mr. Holt barges out of the room without noticing either of us. I let a squeak escape my throat.

               “Shouldn’t you kids be in class,” Jarsis asks

               Hades yells, “run,” and we bolt farther down the hallway.

               We slow down once we’re sure we weren’t followed. Hades is hardly phased by all the running while I pant and sweat like a dog. It was only down the hall and around a bend, but I feel like I ran a marathon. Hades soldiers on with ideas on sneaking on more unsuspecting nobles. I huff out as many excuses not to as I can think of. He’s unswayed.

               His turns take longer, and he mumbles to himself when he stops at forks in the path. He stutters when he meets a passage that he’s unfamiliar with. A point comes that he has to ask me where I think we should go. I spurt and stammer. I have less of a clue where we’re going than he does.

               Eventually, we find our way back to the larger main hallway. We both speed back around and hide. The king regent and our teacher argue passionately around the corner. Hades slides along the wall away from the two. I follow after until I realize they spotted us.

               “Kaiton!” The familiar yell of Professor Titus freezes me in place. I stay like that until he cries my name again. Hades tries to slide away, but I pull him around the corner with me.

               Titus is red in the face. His narrow face scrunches up in anger and disappointment. Or is it disgust? It’s hard to tell past all the wrinkles. The king regent—grandfather I suppose—crosses his arms over his broad figure. He looks very much like Thadius, almost identical. The red in his beard has gone brown in his old age. The disappointment is all in his eyes.

               “And where might you two have been?” Titus’s voice is cold and cutting. Neither of us want to answer in fear of back lash.

               “We…forgot there was class today,” Hades mumbles. He looks up to Titus with his sad puppy-dog eyes. His eye lashes flutter for that added sense of innocence.

               Titus crosses his arms. “And what misunderstanding made you think you could skip class today?”

               We look at each other for an answer.

               Grandfather’s stern, booming voice demands respect. Hades and I stiffen and face front. Even Titus straightens his shoulders. “Whose idea was it?”

               The gravity of the question grips at my heart. How can he make something so seemingly small carry so much weight?

               “Mine,” I whisper before anyone has a chance to speak again. Everyone’s eyes are on me. I fake eye contact with the regent by staring at his nose. Looking others in the eye is hard enough when they’re not a foot and a half taller than me.

               He turns to Hades. “Is that true?”

               Hades stumbles over his words, no clear answer in his head.

               Grandfather turns back to me, thinking something over before speaking again. “There’s no time for punishments anyway.” He points to us. “You two. Follow.” Even after so long his military training still pops up in his various demands and delight in people’s suffering.

               He leads us all the way to Father’s old study. My heart twist causing my eyes to sting. I force myself to remain calm. It’s been three years, and it still hurts.

               Hades and I take a seat in the chairs across from the regent. His posture is stiff, filled with pride.

               “You two were to have spent the day packing. If you would have shown up to your lessons, you would have known that.”

               Hades takes the initiative. “Why not just send someone down to tell us?”

               “That’s not the point.” The sudden yelling sends both of us jolting backwards. Hades takes to pouting instead of showing he’s afraid. Grandfather leans forward. “You two will be leaving for Pascal in two days. I would start packing soon.”

               “That’s not nearly enough time,” Hades shouts.

               “If you had gone—”

               “If you had sent someone.”

               “Enough! Go. Pack. Now.”