Chapter 7 : A Bad Omen
Her eyes slipped down to his neck, where his Adam’s apple slid slightly up and down, and she blushed. Quickly, she looked away as her small body rose and fell like a beast in its sleep.
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Places mentioned:
Dovewing
The Queen of Tyrannoson came from this nation that is northeast of the Central Continent.
East Land:
A continent across the ocean from the Central Continent. There are trades between the two continents, but no official diplomacy.
Mandia
An island nation, northwest of the Central Continent, cut off by the Rustles Sea. It was conquered by Tyrannoson three years ago when the narrative begins.
Sanlostier:
The forbidden forest that seems to be ruled by a certain subspecies of Elves.
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Creatures (that can speak and have names) mentioned:
Elan
A gladiator Carwen rescued from the arena three years ago, now is Yisreal’s groom.
Leopoldo Valrino
The King of Tyrannoson, and the sixth monarch of the Valrino family.
Yisreal Valrino
A son of the King of Tyrannoson.
Carwen Valrino
King Leopoldo’s only daughter.
Queen Evelyn
Leopold'o’s wife. Her brother is the King of Dovewing.
Princess Irene
Leopoldo’s daughter-in-law, married to Prince Chester. She’s also a princess of Dovewing and Queen Evelyn’s niece.
Mr. Galorde
Ivan’s grandfather’s apprentice, having served both his grandfather and father as their assistant.
Lewis
An apprentice at the Medical Tower.
Susan
A royal pharmacist.
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7
A Bad Omen
“I’ll write a letter to my brother, the King of Dovewing, to receive you into Dovewing, where you’ll be treated the way you deserve—” Her green eyes glinted. “The way no kingdom on this continent can offer you.”
“Mother,” Irene rescued me unintentionally, “it’s late now. Why don’t we let Maester Mellon go?”
Queen Evelyn patted Irene’s hands smiled. “Look at me! Thank you, dear. Ivan, I believe you can help. Now, have a good night.”
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Time passed quickly. I worked all day in the medical tower, teaching Lewis about herbs and animal materials, instructing Susan and Howard to boil potions for Yisreal and Irene, and studying magic with Galorde in private.
He helped me find certain pages in the books I brought from home and corrected my practices. I tried to turn a sparrow into a green bird with the exact same shade of green as the tree she was perched in, but the sparrow became a green leaf with the same shape as the tree’s. The leaf fell slowly to the ground. Galorde picked it up and told me to see only the color and nothing else—no shapes, no species, no textures. It wasn’t easy. First, the green leaf turned brown, like a mix of the leaf and the sparrow. Then the sparrow returned, and finally, she turned green in Galorde’s palms. I cheered and startled the little green bird. She hopped back into the tree, hardly visible.
“Will she stay green?” I asked.
“As long as you’re alive.”
Carrying our baskets loaded with fresh herbs on our backs, we returned to the wagon.
“What if other sparrows edge her out? Would her children be green? Will green sparrows become a thing a hundred years from now?”
“That’s why you should never abuse your power.” He seemed pleased with my questions. “But I wouldn’t worry about her children. Sorcery is mere façade; it can’t change what it is. Just like your father covered you with a façade of mortal, yet you’re still a sorcerer.”
“Then who can change what it is?”
“The gods.”
“They were dead, as far as I know.”
“The creators live in their creations. That’s why they willingly gave up their lives—so their creations could stand forever.”
Galorde’s answer struck me with a déjà vu. I had almost forgotten about Philemon and Sanlostier, a memory that should have been unforgettable. Even now, as it flashed back to me, it felt unreal.
“The gods had finalized all beings. A sorcerer can only alter appearances.”
Galorde continued, while I was lost in deep thought. I didn’t pay much attention to what he said, being occupied with that one echoing question again:
Who’s your god?
I physically shook Philemon’s ethereal voice off and asked, “What if I created new life with magic?”
Galorde stopped and turned to me. “What do you mean?”
“You know, like… like creating a hatchling or something. Creating a baby out of nothing, by magic.”
He frowned. “You can’t create things out of nothing. I just told you, you can’t change what it is; everything magic does is but an appearance—” Galorde paused and scrutinized me. “You’re not actually thinking about it, are you?”
“No, just curious.” I flattened my lips.
Galorde glanced at me, then started fishing around in his pocket before handing me a small mirror.
“What’s this?”
“Look at yourself.”
“What?” I cried. “How did my brows turn gray?”
“Because you lied to me.” Galorde raised his brows.
“You put a spell on me? You can do that?”
“Yes, even I can do that.”
“My father and grandfather taught you too much,” I grumbled.
“Stop fooling around. Tell me what happened.”
I checked myself again in the mirror and handed it back to him. He gave me a painful knock on the head as soon as I told him what the Queen had said to me the other night.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he exploded, fuming, outraged. “You really have no idea of the situation you’re in, do you?”
“Don’t fuss about it,” I said, even though his reaction did make me nervous. “I just need to take care of one more Valrino before my resignation. That’s it.”
“That is not!” He knocked my head again. “So you chose the Queen over Yisreal? Already?”
I had no idea what he was talking about.
He took a breath, shaking his head.
“You see, Ivan, this is another reason your father wanted you to leave here. You’re not simply a physician when you serve the Valrinos—you’re their accomplice, and you’re an ally to some of them, an enemy to others. You’ve got to pick sides, but keep the line blurry. It’s not just medicine; it’s politics.”
I understood the accomplice part immediately—my grandfather had made the poison to help King Leopoldo murder his own nephews and nieces—but not the "picking sides" part.
Galorde told me everything as we rode our wagon back to the tower.
When the Queen was eight months pregnant with Prince Lesley, Leopoldo came back from hunting with a beautiful boy who looked about seven—radiating, when he first appeared in the palace. Prince Sean was eight that year, and Prince Chester had been away for the coming-of-age trial for five months. You’ve heard of that? No? Your father didn’t mention it? Every Valrino boy is blindfolded and dropped in a faraway wilderness at the age of ten, and whoever doesn’t come back, doesn’t come back. Before we knew whether Chester would survive or not, the King announced that this boy he picked up while hunting was his son—his blood, his true son. Just like that, no explanation, no compromise, no apology, and no gossip allowed—
“What?”
Galorde just got off and turned to frown at me who bent over, dying laughing.