Chapter 16: Plots & Desire

“Have you learned anything more about the boy?”

The question hung unanswered in the air for some time as Lothar Djed, the hand of the King, stared at Julius with a frown from behind his desk. He’d grown to despise asking that question, because each time he did, he got no answer. And from the almost bored look on Julius’s face, it didn’t seem like this time would be any different at all.

“No,” Julius responded. “Nothing yet. I’m still looking.”

His jaw tightened. “Why is it taking so long?”

Julius shrugged. “There’s nothing concrete to pursue,” he said. “Elsa lodged him at the inn with those two she’s so attached to, and we know neither of them is a spy. Beyond that, he meets only with a woman who runs an orphanage, and she’s not a spy either. He’s had no contact with anyone of interest, no ties that might tell us where he came from.”

“Perhaps he’s working alone, then?” Lothar asked sharply.

The Gold-Rank knight leaned back into his seat and sighed. “Perhaps, but we cannot confirm that,” he said. “Just as we cannot confirm how someone seemingly ordinary killed three of my men and caused an explosion that was heard by almost half the kingdom. And if he had such immense power, why allow himself to be tortured?”

“Does it matter? He all but claimed responsibility for the explosion.”

“He did, but can we really trust his words? That could have been a lie to protect the real culprit. It’s quite surprising that someone of your position can be so ... trusting.”

Lothar’s face twisted into a deep frown. He recognized the slight in the knight’s last words, but he had to force himself to ignore it, responding would accomplish nothing here.

“What about Elsa? Are you certain she was not involved?” he asked.

Julius gave a shake of his head. “I thought she could be as well, but I’ve confirmed her story,” he replied easily. “Many saw her arrive at the scene after the explosion.”

“What kind of power caused it?” he asked.

Julius shrugged again. “That is also a mystery,” he said with a smile as he drummed his fingers against the desk. “Which brings us back ... there’s nothing concrete to pursue.”

“Is there anything you fucking know?!” Lothar snapped in frustration.

At his outburst, Julius shifted and gave him a cold, utterly humorless look. The faint smile he had vanished from his face as if it had never been there at all, and for a heartbeat, the room seemed to squeeze closer around them, the air pressing down with the weight of an unspoken threat. Lothar stiffened, then, almost despite himself, his hand slid back down from where it had risen and his gaze drifted away in fear and submission.

Then, just as quickly as it rose, the tension dissolved and Julius’s face stretched with a smile again. “I apologize for my failure, my lord,” he said, and added a small bow.

The gesture was as false as the smile. Lothar knew the man didn’t truly respect or fear him, and his loyalty was not to him. It was to the partners who had positioned him as an intermediary. Everything Julius did was to serve them and protect their needs. That was why he had taken the initiative to release the children; he had thought it best to protect the partners from an unknown quantity, as they were always his priority. Lothar had only been informed after the fact, and he’d gone along with it, even though he didn’t like it.

The partners were cautious, preferring to work from the shadows. They had already been unsettled by Arryn; the appearance of the boy—this Adam—and the recent explosion had only worsened their unease. They had commended Julius’s quick judgment to return the children, supporting the plan to lie low for now. The entire operation was on hold until they knew exactly who the boy was, where he came from, and what he wanted. But it had been days and they had been unable to learn anything, or maybe they had and just weren’t telling him. Each time Julius insisted he knew nothing yet, Lothar’s doubt grew.

He’d begun to suspect that they would only tell him if the danger the boy posed was manageable, if he was small enough that they could crush quietly. But if he was something else, something dangerous, they wouldn’t tell him. Someone would need to be responsible for any crimes that might be uncovered. A head would need to be on the chopping block.

And it would be his head. They would bury him and their involvement.

Lothar knew that he wouldn’t be able to fight it. The partners were powerful, more powerful than anyone in the kingdom, even the Crown itself. They ran the entire kingdom from the shadows. He only held his position as Hand of the King because they had made it possible, and his purpose was to serve their interests. They were not truly partners, though that was how the relationship appeared from the outside and what he called them. In truth, they were his masters. And however useful he might be to them, they would not hesitate to discard him if it became necessary. He’d recognized long ago that it was part of the reason they’d placed Julius as the go-between. The man’s role wasn’t limited to just intermediary and helper; he was also a spy for them ... and his potential executioner.

The partners always protected themselves first.

“It’s fine,” Lothar said and cleared his throat, as if to smooth over the moment. “Just let me know when you have learned something.”

Julius took that as dismissal and stood to leave. “You’ll be the first to know.”

As the knight left his office, Lothar remained frozen behind his desk, staring at the closed door long after his footsteps had faded. The silence that ensued was suffocating. For a moment, he did nothing, just sat still, then his composure shattered. He slammed his hand down onto the desk, hard. “Damn you!” he hissed bitterly, though whether the words were meant for Julius, the boy, or the partners, even he didn’t know.

It was mid-afternoon when Adam arrived at Lorelei’s home. He knocked once, but before he could knock a second time, her voice floated from behind the house, asking whoever it was to come around. Adam followed the path around the side of the house and found her kneeling in a small garden, her hands buried in the soil. Rows of flowers—each a different kind—stretched out before her. She looked up and smiled softly when she saw him, then quickly wiped her hands on her apron before rising to her feet.

“Oh Adam, it’s you,” she said. “I thought it might be.”

Adam returned her smile. “Hey,” he said back and his gaze drifted around the fenced yard again. From the sweet, floral scent he’d noticed in her room that day—the same scent that lingered on her—he’d guessed she was into gardening. But he hadn’t expected to find something this well-kept. “I didn’t know you had something like this here.”

Lorelei followed his gaze. “It’s only a hobby, though it earns me a little sometimes,” she said. “I suppose, with everything that’s happened, I haven’t had time to show.”

He didn’t know much, or anything at all really, about gardening, but judging by how colorful, well-kept, and meticulously groomed it was, this place must have required a great deal of time, effort, love, and care. He found himself wondering when she found the time to actually tend to it, especially while looking after so many children, and somehow also keeping them away from it. He knew children could be monsters sometimes.

“It must be difficult to maintain,” Adam said, voicing the thoughts in his head and shooting a glance toward the house. “Especially with the children.”

She smiled faintly. “The gentler ones help, they know what to do,” she replied. “The rougher ones know better than to play too close. I can get very upset.”

Her upset? What was that like?

“Would you like to help me? It’s not as thrilling as adventuring, but you might enjoy it more than you think.” Her smile never faded, and her blue eyes were steady on his. Then, as if realizing he might have more important reasons to be here, her eyes widened and she gave a small shake of her head, chiding herself. “Oh ... sorry, you must want the book.”

“No, it’s fine. I can help for a while,” Adam said to ease her worry.

“Really?” she asked, eyes still wide, but now in surprise.

He nodded and gave a gentle smile.

Lorelei beamed wide, then handed him a small trowel and pointed to an empty patch between two rows. Adam crouched beside her, mimicking the way she loosened the soil, a little too forceful at first. Dirt scattered onto his sleeve. Lorelei reached over, guiding his wrist gently, showing him how to turn the earth without forcing it. He nodded, pouring his focus into it, his eyes slightly narrowed and his jaw tensed as he tried again.

When he finally managed it without making a mess, Lorelei chuckled, a soft, warm sound he really enjoyed hearing. “Well, look at that,” she said in a light voice as she wiped the dirt from her palms on her apron. “We’ll make a gardener out of you in no time at all.”

Adam smiled. “Guess I have a fallback if adventuring doesn’t work out.”

He glanced down at his hand to see it was smeared with dirt, but before he could do anything, Lorelei caught his hands and wiped it clean with the front of her apron, slow and absentminded, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Her hand lingered a moment too long, then they looked up at the same time, she quickly realized and stepped away.

Adam smiled, her awkwardness was always fun to watch. It was clear that their brief handholding had brought back the memories of their last meeting. Neither of them had said anything about the kiss—or his request to continue it later, even though it was on both their minds, sitting like a proverbial elephant in the room. Adam hadn’t raised the topic yet, not out of discomfort or shyness, but because he wanted to deal with the more important issue first, to take care of what had really brought him here; which was to finish the book.

After that, he could give her his full, undivided attention. And he suspected that she would wait until he brought it up himself. She was likely still unsure about everything that had happened, and given his age and hers, it was only normal. She was probably wondering whether it was appropriate, a spur of the moment impulse, or something more. If he didn’t bring it up, he knew she would pretend nothing had happened. But he didn’t intend to just let it go. They would talk, then decide if anything more would happen between them.