“Who?” Smalls was utterly confused. As far as he was aware, he was the youngest and last-born child his parents had had.
Wilfred’s voice remained calm. “Emma. She was born about a year after you were.”
Smalls opened his mouth to ask another question, but Wilfred held up his hand. “Patience, Listen. After the invasion you two were separated, and for good reason; if anything ever happened to you, the Green Ember would pass to her. She’s next in line for the throne if you fall.”
Smalls swallowed. Nice bombshell, Wilfred, Was the first thing that crossed his mind. The second was; Disturbing family revelations should hardly surprise me anymore. Though what was possibly even more disturbing was the fact that he had absolutely no memory of her-not even a vague one, a vague image. Smalls had a long memory. He remembered much of his early years with surprising clarity-but Emma had successfully been siphoned out of the equation.
“It’s a contingency plan that’s been in act ever since the two of you were little more than babies.” Wilfred continued. “it’s a great hope among those who know that we will never have to use it. But something had to be done to ensure that the throne would not become vacant if Jupiter’s chosen heir died, and it seemed logical that it would pass to the next youngest sibling. I’m sorry lad, I didn’t tell you before. For everyone’s sake it was safer, as she’s never known who she is. I’m asking you not to tell her. She’s had a safe life here, and a quiet one, evidently.
‘They put her in the care of Lord Rake, and she’s been living here ever since, quite unaware of her heritage, believing that all her family is gone. She was the healer who first saw to Picket. She’s Doctor Zeiger’s assistant.”
Smalls digested that information. “She has no idea at all?”
“None.”
Smalls understood the motives; that did not make it less wrong in his eyes. The desperate sadness on Heather’s face the night before came back to him. “Why didn’t they tell me? Why would they lie?” Heather had been lied too for safety reasons, and it had only caused her more pain in the end, not to mention the walking disaster her brother was. “Will she ever be told?” He finally asked.
Wilfred sighed. “I don’t know. That’s up to Lord Rake. He’s her guardian and has raised her as his own, so he’ll make that choice when the time comes. It’s the law.”
“She ought to know eventually, at least. She’s never known her family.” Smalls insisted. “She has the right.”
“If we’re being honest, Lad, do you think she’ll want to be a part of the royal family? Morbin has done terrible work through their hands.”
Smalls thought back to the day before and the nightmares he constantly had to battle. But that didn’t change his mind. “Even so, shouldn’t she be allowed to know, if at least to make the decision for herself?”
Wilfred nodded; his eyes sad. “She should, Smalls. But it was a consequence of safety for many others that she had to give up that choice; she has been safe and loved.” Wilfred placed a hand on his shoulder. “It will not be so in the mended wood.” He promised.
Smalls nodded. It…….still didn’t feel right, but he trusted Wilfred. And if Wilfred approved of the committee’s decision……well, then Smalls could live with it. “What about Helmer?” He asked, changing the subject. “What’s his story?” Wilfred’s face changed to something between exasperation, irritation, and reminiscence.
“He and I never got along well, if I’m being completely honest.” He replied reluctantly. “We didn’t see eye-to-eye, especially when we were younger. When we were kids, we had our fair share of tussles.”
“You grew up with him?”
“For a few months he lived in the orphanage about two miles from where I lived. I didn’t see him again until I enlisted in the military. We didn’t get along then, either. But I doubt that has anything to do with his current state.” Wilfred’s expression turned grave. “During the later years of your father’s reign, he commanded an elitest military unit nicknamed the ‘King’s arm’ made up of mostly young soldiers. He loved those boys like his own sons.” Smalls had a feeling he knew what was coming. “He learned of Garten’s plan too late, and chased after Jupiter with those soldiers. It didn’t end well.”
Wilfred’s gaze was directed to one of the stained-glass windows, finished, that showed the end of the golden age and the death of king Jupiter. Smalls turned to look where he was looking, and saw that Wilfred was staring sadly at the image of his elder brother. Garten gloated in the representation, proud over his awful accomplishments.
Smalls had met the rabbit before when he was younger. He had hated him. Everything about Garten was the opposite of what Wilfred was, everything they stood for was different, everything they thought was different. The only similarity lay in how the looked. That taken into account, they could have been twins.
“They failed, of course.” He rasped. “And not one of those soldiers survived. Helmer watched them fall, one by one. I myself was bound in chains.”
Smalls blinked, startled by the bluntness. Wilfred rarely spoke of those days.
Wilfred suddenly turned away from the glass portrait of the past. “I’m sure you can guess what happened next.”
Smalls had seen the war tear enough people apart to know exactly what that looked like. Questions spun in his mind, but
Wilfred spoke before he could ask any of them. “I have some letters to write. You can stay here as long as you like. Rake gave full permission, and none of the artisans will stop you.” With that, Wilfred stood and walked away. He paused at the door, and Smalls saw his hand go to his face, his shoulder heaving slightly, before he straightened and continued on his way.
Smalls looked down.
War is a terrible thing.
It made Smalls sad to think about his father. Obviously, that was a common sentiment, but it was strange for Smalls. He’d never known the buck. He’d been little more than a baby when Jupiter was killed, but ever since then it was all he seemed to hear about.
Except from Wilfred.
Wilfred rarely talked about Jupiter now. Smalls could guess the pain, shame, and grief that he must carry. Wilfred had been one of his father’s closest friends. And he blamed himself thoroughly for not catching onto his brother’s villainous plot in time.
It wasn’t his fault. Garten had fooled everyone, not just Wilfred.
It wasn’t Wilfred’s fault they were now in the situation they were in.
Again, the chain around his neck seemed to grow heavier, and weigh more. He wasn’t some hero, he wasn’t anyone really. Just a…..well, if he was being perfectly honest, a child thrust into extraordinary circumstances. Because he’d been born at the right time and into the right family.
Smalls wondered what his life would have been like had he not been born royal-but shoved it away when he realized it was impossible to imagine. This was his reality, whether he liked it or not, and he was stuck with it until the day he died.
But there were days, especially days like this one, when Smalls wished he could be normal.
When he wished that once, just once, he could close his eyes and not be tormented by nightmares. That he could stay in one place-have a home. A good one.
Smalls had never been much of a daydreamer. Despite what others thought, his absent-mindedness came from how quickly his mind jumped form one subject to the next rather than his admittedly crazy imagination pulling images out of thin air.
But if there was one thing that he did dream about? It was home. Being home.
He glanced regretfully around. These stained-glass memories were pretty, sure, but of little use to him now. Smalls refused to rely on the past for hope and motivation; he looked to the future instead. It was his only choice.
Smalls returned to his room and became thoroughly engrossed in a book, which was why he hadn’t heard the first three knocks. Or the shouting. What he definitely did finally hear was the loud thump and crack, which startled him out of his quiet revery. Annoyed, he got up to see who it was.
Picket.
It was Picket. Of course, it was Picket. The kid had apparently decided it was his life’s goal to be a general nuisance to Smalls. Why on earth he had smashed his crutch against Smalls’ door was not a question he could answer, but the guards standing at ready with their weapons pointed at Picket clearly weren’t conversational. Smalls shook his head and sighed.
“What have you done this time, lad?”
Picket glared at him and turned away.
“He’s been causing trouble all morning.” One of the guards snapped. “Tripping over blast powder and such, and then making a ruckus down here.”
“I thought it was my room.” Picket muttered, standing painfully.
“It’s his second offense. I’ll have to tell Lord Rake.”
“He’s barely more than a child. I doubt he knew better.” The second guard said reasonably.
“His kind make trouble no matter their age.” The first spat, glancing angrily back and forth between Picket and Smalls,
Great. This is wonderful. Smalls steeled himself.
“It was an accident.” He argued.
“Accident or no, I’ll be reporting.” The first guard repeated stubbornly.
“Reporting what?” They all turned to see Pacer, who had spoken, and Lord Rake, who let out a long sigh. Pacer glanced first at Smalls, who tried hard not to look suspicious, and then to Picket, who was not trying at all- Oh please-why is it always me?
Rake glanced at him, And Smalls sincerely hoped that Wilfred wouldn’t be hearing about this. At least, this time, he wouldn’t be the only one receiving a lecture.
“He-” The first guard jutted a thumb at Picket, “Nearly tripped a blast powder barrel, and then was trying to break down this door.”
“Is that so?” Rake said, raising his eyebrows in a way that showed he truly thought this was ridiculous.
“It is, lord.”
“It was a mistake.” Smalls repeated, irritation setting in at being treated like he wasn’t there. “And no one was hurt because of it.”
Rake nodded. “Leave them be, Hale. It was an innocent accident.”
“Innocent.” Hale grumbled, “Innocent as newborn babes, they are. Capable of doing no wrong.” His sarcasm was overheard by Pacer, who gave him a sharp reprimand. Hale shot one last glare in Picket’s general direction and then walked back to his post, mumbling and complaining to his colleague all the way.
“I should dismiss him.” Pacer muttered. “He just causes trouble.”
Smalls decided he agreed with that plan. He and Rake continued on down the hall, their conversation dropping so low that Smalls could hear nothing. This vexed him, for some reason. He truly hated secrets, despite how necessary they were. Picket had picked himself up and was hobbling down the hall. Smalls debated for a second, cast a longing glance back into his room where his book was, then sighed and followed Picket.