CHAPTER FOUR
Tristan hunched over his project with intense concentration. He was so intent that he didn’t hear the approaching steps. But when they stopped beside him, he began to feel a hovering presence. He looked up and into the disapproving eyes of a tall, thin man with a receding hair line.
His dark hair was pulled back into a sleek tail that brushed his back. He stood in a dark green robe over a white linen tunic. His hands were clasped behind him as he stared down at Tristan.
“Tristan, I presume,” the man said. “I am Penley, King Darius’s chief advisor.”
Tristan popped to his feet. “Oh, hey.” He held out a hand in greeting, but Penley only gave it a disdainful glance.
“May I ask how long you intend to grace us with your presence?” Penley asked dismissively.
Letting his hand fall back to his side, Tristan cleared his throat. “Uh…” he floundered. Kyra had warned him that he might not be received gracefully by the chief advisor, but he hadn’t expected this.
“Boy!” The word boomed toward him and slammed into his ears with such force, he jumped. An older, white haired gentleman crossed the courtyard. A single glance at the advisor was the only dismissal Penley needed apparently.
The tall, proud gentleman assessed Tristan with a scrutinizing gaze before he broke out into a wide grin. “You’re the boy who saved my girl yesterday?” His voice carried a deep burr.
“Uh…”
“Well, don’t just stand there, boy,” the gentleman ordered. “Buck up! Introduce yourself.”
Tristan backed up a step and nearly embarrassed himself with a girlish squeak when a very large hand was thrust toward him. Then he realized the man was offering his hand in introduction. “Tristan, sir.”
“Tristan, eh?” When Tristan slid his hand into his, the older gentleman pumped it vigorously. “I’m Walt. Rhea’s my girl.”
Understanding dawned. “You’re Rhea’s father.” Kyra had mentioned a grandfather. She’d said he was due to visit. “Very nice to meet you, sir.”
“Been having a stimulating conversation with Penley, have you?” Walt grinned.
Tristan glanced in the direction the advisor had gone. “Hmm. I don’t think he likes me much.”
Walt laughed. “Penley doesn’t much like anyone. No one much likes Penley. He’s a necessary evil.”
A snicker escaped from Tristan. “Good to know, sir.”
“Kyra tells me you’re not acquainted with our land or our ways,” Walt said. “Where you from, boy?”
“America.”
Walt sounded out the name. “Never heard of it,” he declared after a moment.
“Apparently no one has,” Tristan muttered.
“Well,” Walt waved the issue away. “I’m from Othonia.”
Tristan frowned. “I thought you were from Barico.”
Walt drew back in surprise. “You really don’t know anything. Othonia is a region of Barico, boy.”
“Oh.” Tristan had little choice but to fall into step beside him when Walt placed a firm hand on his shoulder and steered him into walking. “How many regions are there?”
“Six,” Walt answered. “Othonia is southeast of here. It begins where the mountains end. Gorgeous sea to its south. The Great Wetlands to the east of its border.”
Unsure of himself, Tristan fell back on his standard, “Oh.”
A slap on the back nearly sent Tristan pitching face first. “Come, boy,” Walt boomed. “The best way to get to know a man is to see how he holds his liquor.”
• • •
Shaylin had been given the task of finding their guest. Since he seemed so fond of Kyra, she decided to start there. She found her sister in the gardens examining a gadget of sorts.
“What do you hold?” she asked.
Kyra glanced up. “I do not know. Tristan made it. I saw him working on it this morning. I was looking for him and found it here.”
“You seem to be very attached to him,” Shaylin noted with a frown.
“And you seem very determined not to become attached to him,” Kyra shot back easily. “He thinks you don’t like him.”
That brought Shaylin’s wandering gaze back to her sister. “Why would he think that?”
“Because you do not talk to him,” Kyra laughed. “But you watch him. He doesn’t know how closely you watch him. I think you’re more interested than you’re letting on.”
Shaylin tried to give her sister a bored stare. When Kyra only grinned at her, she changed tactics and snatched the board out of her hands. “What is this supposed to do?” It had four small wheels on the bottom of the board.
Kyra snatched it back. “I don’t know. He would not tell me this morning. He only smiled and said it was a surprise. He drew a picture of it on paper, and then he met with the blacksmith and the woodworker to build it.”
“He doesn’t talk to me either,” Shaylin blurted out. “But he certainly talks to you.”
“I think he’s intimidated by you,” Kyra guessed.
Shaylin frowned. “He finds me intimidating? That’s not very flattering.”
Kyra laughed. “Remember he told Father that you were beautiful and stunning. I think he fancies you, but you don’t talk to him. Not like Mother and I do.”
Shaylin considered her sister’s observations. “I don’t know what to say to him.”
“Just talk to him,” Kyra rolled her eyes. “He’s really very sweet, and he’s funny.” She examined the board again. “And very clever. He likes to tinker with these sorts of things.”
“I thought a scholar was supposed to be fascinated with books,” Shaylin pointed out. “He’s hardly stepped into the library.”
Kyra set one of the wheels spinning. “He told me he studies engineering. He builds things. I think he is a very different kind of scholar than we know.” Her eyes lifted to her sister’s. “He thwarted an assassination attempt on yours and mother’s lives. I know of no scholar that could do such a thing. Or would.”
“He’s different from anything we know,” Shaylin trailed a finger over one of the wheels. “How does one not know how they came to be in a foreign land?”
“Quin was suspicious of him at first too,” Kyra scowled. “He means us no harm.”
Shaylin’s brow rose. “I do not question his intentions. Is it not my life he saved as well as mother’s? There is something about him is all. It plays on my mind.”
“He believes the medallion brought him here,” Kyra confided. “Though he does not understand how or why.”
Shaylin frowned. “The medallion he spoke of that bears the mark of our royal crest?”
“Yes.” Kyra flipped the board over again in her hands. “It is a very peculiar thing. It is not big enough to move very much if that is its purpose.”
“Mother asked me to make sure he’s comfortable, but no one has seen him,” Shaylin told her with a sigh. “Will you help me find him?”
Kyra glanced up from the board. “If you promise to talk to him when we do. He really is rather fascinating.”
• • •
It took quite a bit of asking around, but they found him. In the kitchen of the servant’s wing. He was perched on a stool at one of the long tables beside Walt. He gripped a wooden mug in his hands. Containing one of her grandfather’s liquor concoctions, she was sure.
Shaylin stared at the sight before her with despair. “Oh, no. Grandfather,” she scolded. “What have you done?”
Tristan stared at her with glassy eyes and a goofy grin. “Hi,” he greeted her.
Kyra was trying hard not to laugh. “Mother is going to kill you, Grandfather.”
“I needed to see what the boy was made of,” he told them. A grin lit his face as he gave Tristan a confirming nod. “He’s a good boy.” He threw the rest of his drink back with a hearty toss.
“Tristan,” Shaylin stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder gingerly. “Are you all right? Are you going to be sick?”
Tristan tried to focus on
the blurry beauty before him. “You even look fantastic blurry,” he slurred. Then he pitched face first off his stool and hit the floor.
Shaylin tried to keep him upright but only managed to slow his fall. Dead weight was always heavier than it seemed. She straightened and glared at Walt. “How could you? You got him so sloshed, he’s passed out cold.”
Walt glanced at the unconscious body on the floor at his feet. “Boy’s fine. Let him sleep it off.”
Her mouth fell open. “Fine?! He’s bloody unconscious!”
• • •
The next morning, all eyes were on Tristan as he eased carefully into the dining chair next to Quin and across from Shaylin. His head turned to look at Walt who gave him a bolstering grin and wink. “Walt,” he acknowledged with a squeaking croak.
Rhea watched in distress. “Tristan,” she started. Then halted when he held up a hand to stop her.
“May I make a request?” he asked quietly. At her go ahead, he continued, “Can we all whisper this morning?”
Rhea glared at Quin’s snicker. “I am so sorry, Tristan. I should have warned you about my father.”
“It’s okay,” he told her as he held onto his head with both hands. “I learned a very important, life changing lesson yesterday.”
“You did?” Kyra piped in, her interest piqued.
Tristan lifted his glass of water and gulped desperately. When he began to feel like his thirst might actually be quenchable within his lifetime, he took a deep breath. “Yes. Never drink with Walt.” He saw Shaylin’s lips twitch.
Darius let out a laugh. “Do not worry. I had to learn that lesson the hard way too.”
A little later, once he was feeling slightly sturdier on his feet, he set off to track down Quin for his daily sparring session. Before he could find him, he got intercepted by Shaylin. She smiled as she approached. “Hello.”
“Hey. Everything okay?”
“Yes,” she answered quickly, the smile dimming. “Of course. I just wanted to…make sure you were all right.”
“Oh. Yeah,” he nodded. “I appreciate that. I’m fine.”
They stood for a beat in awkward silence. “I apologize for Grandfather,” she suddenly said, grasping for any straw. “He shouldn’t have done that.”
Tristan snickered. “Yeah, that was terrible of him to hold me down and pour that mess down my throat. Really cruel and unusual punishment.” When her lips curved again in amusement, he chuckled. “The funny part is…I really thought I was holding my own. Thought I was right there with him.” He laughed again. “Right up until I hit the floor and passed out. That was kind of the turning point for me.”
A laugh bubbled up. “It wasn’t funny,” she said, contradicting her laughter. “I tried to catch you so you didn’t hit so hard.”
“A little lesson I’ve learned in my young years,” he offered. She lifted a brow. “When someone’s stupid enough to drink themselves unconscious…they deserve to hit the floor hard.”
Another laugh. She tilted her head to the side as a concession to his point. “True.” Tristan shifted from foot to foot as the silence stretched thin. Shaylin nearly sighed but instead tried another tactic. “I saw the…I don’t know what it was. A board on wheels. You built this?”
A smile tugged at his lips. “I call it a skateboard. It’s just for fun.”
“Skateboard,” Shaylin repeated with a furrowed brow. “What does it do?”
“Oh, umm…” Tristan chuckled. “You stand on it and roll along. It’s for fun. Nothing complicated.”
She studied him. “This is what you study? Building things such as this?”
Tristan wobbled his head. “Kind of. I draw out an idea I have. By doing that, I plan out all the functioning parts and see what I need to build it. Then I work to make each part of the whole. Sometimes it can be a little more trial and error. I can build all sorts of things…if I know how they work.”
“I see,” she murmured. “You must be very clever to do this.”
He shrugged. “I’ve always…looked at things and wanted to know how they work. Once I know how it works, I can build it. Or even something that works better.” He smiled when she didn’t respond. “Ever wonder how things work?”
She stared at him for a beat. “Not so long as they work.”
He laughed. “I’m a bit odd to you, I suppose.”
“A little different, but not so much odd. Odd has a bad connotation. You are not different in a bad way.” Then she cleared her throat. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Yep. Thanks for checking. That’s my best quality,” he told her with a grin. “I always bounce back.”
A smile curved her lips. She shook her head. “That’s not your best quality.” She stepped past him. As she was walking away, she cast one last glance over her shoulder and saw he was still watching her.