Blood Ties

Chapter 30: Declan

To be quite frank, Declan Lockwood, prince of Astroia, was frustrated.

He had been hopeless at finding the old crone again. Nadia was avoiding him. His favourite haberdashery was closed. And to top it all off, his presence was expected at a state banquet that night.

"Go away, Gustav," he shouted from the depths of his closet as a pounding on the door reverberated through the room. He was at the point of no longer caring about whether his father's spy was put up with him or not.

"Actually, it's me," said his cousin. Nolan. Declan sighed."May I enter?"

"If you must." He pulled a green tie from the rack, then rummaged through his pocket watches.

"Thank you." The door clicked shut.

"Gold or silver?" he held up two pocket watches as he emerged from the wardrobe.

"Silver."

"Gold it is." he talked the watch into the pocket of his waistcoat. Declan hadn't spoken to his cousin since they had gotten off the ship. "What did you come here for, cousin?"

"Can't the captain of the Guard converse with the prince?"

"Not without an invitation."

"How rude you are." Nolan studied an oil painting of a ship on fire that hung on the wall. Declan had bought the painting first because his father thought it was bad luck to display art that portrayed terrible disaster. But now, he had come to like the vivid orange flames that obstacle the passengers' faces, not revealing their screams of pain or even sighs of relief.

It was the only obvious show of wealth in his rooms, as it cost two times the amount of a year's harvest. The rest of the chamber with utilitarian: Military corners on the black sheets tucked tightly over a wooden four-poster bed, and brass sconces instead of a chandelier. A black desk made of steel was propped against the wall, almost blending into the dark grey wallpaper. The floors were black granite instead of marble, twice as durable.

"I thought you were aware of my malevolent nature, cousin." Declan laced up his loafers. "Now am I to believe that you don't even know me at all?"

"Knock off the dramatics," Nolan groused, carding a hand through his reddish curls. "I came here to invite you to my wedding. The King has agreed to our union - "

Declan put up a hand. "You must be speaking in jest. First of all, you know I condemn anything of which the king approves. Second of all, I don't even know this girl that is to be your wife. Who is she? You have only known her for a few months!"

Nolan glared, but stood his ground. "Declan, you are so predictable. If the king wanted you to live, you would throw yourself off the roof just to spite him. And as to your second point, about your - Nadia?"

"My Nadia?" he echoed, ignoring his cousin's first jibe. "She is not my anything. Let alone my wife. That is an entirely different matter."

"Your expression when you look at her seems to say otherwise." Love must have had an emboldening effect on his cousin instead of being the soul-sucking anchor that it had been for Declan.

"How do I look at her then?" he demanded.

Nolan groaned. "You really need me to spell this out for you?"

"Yes, say it."

"You look at her like you want to possess her and set her free, break her and put her back together, all at the same time."

"You must be drinking too much, cousin." He raked a comb through his hair before clapping Nolan on the back to hide the tremor in his hands and the expression on his face. His cousin's words had hit him like a sunrise: slow patches of gray fading until the sudden, scalding, blinding light hit him full in the face. "I'll see you at supper?"