A S T E R I O N
in sunshine and in shadow*
He’s too caught up in his own uncertainty to notice the way the man assesses him, falling to stillness as cover for nerves. He might laugh if he knew that the appearance he gave was of calm; certainly the trip of his heart and the wonder at this merry-making, heart-stealing figure had him feeling anything but serene.
“There would certainly be surprise on all sides,” he agrees, and does not add that the castle might not mind a little excitement. He is at once terribly curious about the dark king, and wary of slighting his sister in any way. Politics feels like a game he has never played, and no one’s given him the rules; it seems like a ledge with a thousand possible missteps.
He is glad to be nothing more complicated than a brother.
Asterion flicks an ear at the sound of that rich laughter, glancing around as though it might bring heads peering from doorways, but there is no stirring but their breathing. He’s smiling when he says, “But no, when she became queen they convinced her to move to larger quarters. Though I suppose it’s possible she’s visiting Dawn.” It does not occur to him to wonder why Reichenbach hasn’t been updated on his sister’s rooms; truthfully, he doesn’t want to think about it too deeply. There are a few things he’s happier not knowing about his newly discovered half-sibling.
The king’s gaze catches him again, so strikingly silver, more virile than starlight. Surely even in dreaming this man was more alive than Asterion has ever been.
“A nightcap?” he repeats, as mystified as he had been when first he stepped into Isorath’s quarters a few weeks before. Even in the rare moments he came to the keep (most of them spent in the library, puzzling over tidy black marks on yellowing paper) he’d managed to avoid most of the other strange trappings of this world. He’s only just overcoming the sense of wonder at such simple things – silks and songs and stained-glass windows.
Maybe there is a kind of magic here (an ironic thought; he does not notice the way the shadows twist and cling to Reichenbach, separate from the rest of the darkness that lay so still in the hall), if only he’d open his eyes to it.
He smiles then, swift and sure. “I’d like nothing more.” He is certain he would be hard-pressed to deny him, even not knowing what he asks.
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