The Key

Chapter 8

Maybe there’s something more and maybe there isn’t, but it’s definitely the travel stories that got Sam. He’d been thrilled half out of his mind to go to Moondoor for Dan’s birthday, just to get out of the castle.

“Guess I’ll have to meet him,” Dan says instead of pointing this out.

“Definitely,” Sam says. “Maybe the four of us could share a dance tonight, if you can teach Casper that quickly.”

“We can give it a shot.” He rolls his shoulder, the wood not exactly the most comfortable thing to lean against after a morning’s exercise. “You’re not worried about symbolism insults with this guy?”

Sam tilts his head a little. “How do you mean?”

“Symbolically giving up this miracle doctor to marry a healing mage with barely any practical experience?”

“Jess is fine with it, actually,” Sam says. “We talked it over.”

“Dude, that’s fast,” Dan says. “You met this guy two days ago.”

“You met Casper two days ago,” Sam counters. “But, yeah, we talked about it. We’re gonna try to get him to stick around in the kingdom. Dan, this is a mage who can heal wounds without directly touching or breathing on them. Before him, touch range was at best one inch from the point of contact. Breath range, the best you could hope for was five inches from point of contact, but he’s turned it entirely upside down. He’s been healing heart defects and broken bones with just his fingertips. Curing congenital defects, Dan, that shouldn't even be possible! Last week, he cured a miscarriage. While it was happening.”

“Yeah, that’d be great for the kingdom and all,” Dan begins.

Sam holds up a hand. “I’ve been worried about Jess for years,” he says. “After all the complications Mom had with me, I don’t want to risk Jess. And I definitely don’t want to subject her to anything as invasive as pregnancy healing. But if we can get Nick to stay, we won’t have to worry.” His voice breaks a little. “Whatever happens, she’ll be fine. And I… I need that. If we have to tether him down with honors, I’m willing to do it.”

Dan looks up into his little brother’s face, and he thinks something he’s never thought to think before. “You’re gonna be a good father, Sam.”

“Have to be a good husband first,” Sam replies, voice still rough.

They each look away and clear their throats a little.

“So, uh. His name’s Nick?” Dan asks.

“Nicholas Lightbringer,” Sam says. “I think it’s an earned title, not a family name. The way he heals, a light shines out of any open wound, right before it closes.”

“If this guy is the real deal, I can see why you want him for Jess,” Dan understates.

“He’s had the top healers in the country staring at him for three months, non-stop,” Sam says. “He’s the real thing.”

“I still want to check him out.”

“Definitely,” Sam agrees. “It’s not like we’re naming him Royal Physician just yet.”

“Does he know he’s getting kissed yet?” Dan asks.

Sam shakes his head. “Jess and I only decided last night, and we’re not going to announce it to anyone until my birthday.” He pauses. “I’m not sure he even knows the custom. Someone should probably bring that up first.”

Dan laughs. “You think? Not that that doesn’t sound like a great party, a guy kissing you while his fiancee watches with approval.”

“Dan.”

Dan laughs harder.

After one last disgusted look, Sam grins back. “Now you’re feeling better, you want to hear what I found in the basement?”

“Was it dust?” Dan asks. “Cobwebs?”

“Neither,” Sam says. “Which reminds me, I should commend the cleaning staff. But no, get this. They were listed in a catalog of items retrieved from a demon stronghold a couple centuries back.” He bounces on his feet. “Two boxes with matching insignia. Guess what was inside one.”

“My patience for this story.”

“A stone tablet,” Sam tells him victoriously. “I pulled out the boxes for a look, and it’s a tablet of dark stone inscribed with a language I don’t recognize. The kind of dark stone you get in the southern mountains.”

“You think there’s an angel letter in the basement.”

“It could be!” Sam insists. “We’d need Casper to check, but it sounds exactly like what he described last night.”

“Maybe tomorrow night,” Dan says. “I’ve been trying to get a dance out of him for two days, and if anyone lets him know we’ve got that, I’ll be out three for three.”

“Let him know at some point, all right?” Sam asks. “I’m really curious. There’s a lot of stuff the Men of Letters haven’t been able to fully classify down there.”

“Speaking of, what was in the second box?” Dan asks.

Sam shrugs a little. “A long knife. There weren’t any inscriptions on it that I could see, and the blade and hilt looked like they were made from the same piece of metal.”

“Iron?” Dan asks.

“Definitely not iron. Something more silvery.”

“Huh.” He shrugs back. “Well, if tonight works out, I guess I’ll have a treat for him tomorrow.”

Sam gives him a look. “Right. Because buying someone’s affection always works out well.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Just be careful,” Sam says. “I want to see you happy. You know that, right?”

“Hey, who looks after who here?” Dan asks.

“Both of us,” Sam says, which is totally not the right answer. “Now come on, Mom wants us both at lunch.”

Dan rolls his eyes but follows. “And Dad?”

Sam very nearly laughs. “What do you think?”

“Mother and sons luncheon, it is.”

Dan reaches for the door, but Sam gets there before him. Sam opens it wide. He gestures and, for once, Dan goes first.

Casper has accidentally seduced a prince, and Balthazar won’t stop laughing.

Despite the increased access to the castle this should afford Casper, Raphael is less than pleased with this development. There can be no denying the increased access comes with increased scrutiny. Additionally, all Casper has is a list of places the tablet is not. These locations have been thoroughly ruled out, but the castle is large. Casper assures Raphael that he is being permitted into the castle library this coming night, and this news is somewhat better received.

For this period’s briefing with Uriel, he focuses on what little they know of human politics and more recent history while Balthazar does what he can for Casper’s clothing. They can exchange trousers easily enough, but while Balthazar’s shirts do tend toward the more ornate, the necklines are deeper, the wing slits higher, the back flap narrower. To wear one of Balthazar’s two shirts would be to bare the downy skin of his back and reveal the living nature of his wings. This is, of course, why Balthazar has the shirts he has, but they work against Casper’s purpose in this regard.

They compromise by layering Casper’s shirt beneath Balthazar’s first shirt. He ties the back flaps in place, tying the cords over his stomach, beneath the front of each shirt. Hannah continues to donate a thick belt and matching pouch to the cause, the only ones she has. Uriel offers his boots, which Casper declines on the basis of being slightly too large. He assures his brother that he knows Uriel has done the best he can gathering information on the tablet, and he thanks him for the offer.

It is very difficult to dress for a grand party when everyone has two outfits at the very most, and every article of clothing is over six hundred years old. Trade of clothing has been rampant for centuries, each item magically renewed countless times, if only for something to do. In a quietly devastating show of support, multiple shirts are cannibalized for material for embroidery, all to better put Casper forward. The only set of mating ribbons is donated to the cause, most of which Balthazar sets aside. He has ideas for the following nights, he promises. For now, they use one of the blue ribbons to hold Casper’s wings in check, a gentle and aesthetically pleasing reminder not to move.

Of all his siblings, he needs that reminder the least. His taciturn nature is, after all, one of the reasons he was selected for this mission. Of course, it’s crucial that he’s young enough, and therefore flexible enough of magic, to fit through the portal, but it’s his proven ability to keep his wings motionless for hours at a time that is even more key in this infiltration. For an angel of his age, he hides his emotions extremely well. In short, he was chosen because he is surly and possesses little in the way of natural charm.

There is no lack of irony in this.

Tonight, a guard approaches Casper while he is still in the entry line, not yet close to the doors, and addresses him by name. “Follow me, please,” she says, taking him out of the line to bring him to the front of it. “Invitation out.”

He hands it over, and she looks at for a moment before nodding. “Meet him at the tapestry.”

“I’m sorry?” he says.

She looks up at him, the picture of a soldier who understands her smaller stature puts her closer to his vital organs. She thrusts back the invitation like a stab to his intestines. “He said you’d know which tapestry. Meet him there.”

Casper puts together her appearance with Prince Dan’s stories from the previous night. The two knives she wears in place of a sword are the deciding factor in her identity. “Of course. Thank you, Dame Joanna.”

Some sort of emotion crosses her face quickly, one Casper couldn’t have deciphered even had it lingered. Even so, not knowing rankles.

“Next,” she calls past him, dismissing him, and Casper moves on, returning his invitation to the small pouch attached to Hannah’s belt.

Entering the castle proper, Casper wastes no time. When access to the library is solely at the prince’s discretion, there is no point in dallying. His steps try to shorten, but he forces them long. His feathers try to flatten, but he keeps them neutral amid his wings’ tension. His fists want to clench, but he keeps his palms open.

He sees the horns before he sees the man. Silver-tipped as always, they almost fade into the inaccurately white wings of the tapestry behind the prince. Standing with his back toward Casper, Prince Dan speaks with an older human in what Casper recognizes as a more ornate knight’s dress uniform. There are honors decorating his jacket, only some of which Casper can interpret.

The older warrior sees Casper’s approach. His eyes are already on Casper when Casper looks to him, and the man never pauses in his reply to Prince Dan. Prince Dan himself does not turn around until Casper draws near and the older knight makes a small show of alerting him. This, Casper knows, is a power play for his benefit. His reaction last night doubtlessly displeased the prince. The only question is, to what degree.

As he has each night upon Prince Dan’s acknowledgment of him, Casper performs a small bow. As he has each night, he wants to counterbalance with his wings and prevents himself from doing so.

“Good evening, Casper,” says Prince Dan, as formal as Casper had initially expected a human of his station always to be.

“Hello, Sir Dan,” Casper replies. He nods to the knight at Prince Dan’s side, consults his limited knowledge, and takes a calculated risk based on the age and facial hair. “Sir Robert.”

“So you’d be the angel expert,” the presumed Sir Robert remarks.

“I am,” Casper replies. Holding Sir Robert’s gaze instead of Prince Dan’s, he adds, “Although, while I am an expert in my given areas of study, I am admittedly inexperienced in most other… pursuits.”

Sir Robert’s mustache rustles in a remarkably similar fashion to scapular feathers, but Casper cannot assume this also means amusement. “Suppose you’ll have to let our Knight Prince teach you, then. A good hunter knows a thing or two about pursuing.”

“I would imagine he must.”

Sir Robert regards Casper. Casper regards Sir Robert in turn, periodically taking the quickest of looks toward Prince Dan, as if too intimidated or embarrassed to gaze directly upon him.

At last, Sir Robert finishes his inspection with a nod. He claps Prince Dan on the shoulder. “Good hunting, boy. You know where I’ll be.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” Prince Dan answers.

With one last squeeze of the shoulder, Sir Robert departs, leaving them alone. After the intensity of Sir Robert’s attention, the crowd of party-going onlookers and bystanders doesn’t quite seem to count as company.

Casper bows his head slightly and, keeping his face down-turned, looks up at Prince Dan.

“Don’t,” Prince Dan orders before Casper can say a single word. “Don’t supplicate.”

Casper straightens. Not completely. Just enough for what he hopes looks like a facade of bravery. “Might we speak in private?”

“We might,” Prince Dan allows, his voice steady in a way Casper can’t help but dislike. “How long might we be speaking in private?”

“I don’t know,” Casper says. He takes another gamble when he takes Prince Dan by the arm. “It’s only seven thirty.”

Beneath Casper’s hand, Prince Dan is tense. The sensation is worse than the too-even thread in his voice, but Prince Dan doesn’t pull away. Instead, he says, “I know a place.” He secures Casper’s hand on his arm with his own, the calluses of his palm rough against Casper’s knuckles, a fascinating human texture.

When they move, they move together, Casper syncing his steps to the prince’s. Insofar as is possible in a castle full of talk and music, they walk in silence. Allowing himself to be guided, Casper watches Prince Dan for any expression, for every hint. Once, twice, Prince Dan looks back at him, and Casper does not look away.

Tonight, Prince Dan leads him to a larger doorway leading to a wide stairwell, the empty arch of it partitioned off with heavy, decorative rope and flanked by two guards. With a nod to the guards, Prince Dan steps over the rope before helping Casper in turn. His impaired balance forces him to lean on the prince, flap his wings, or fall, and so Casper leans.

They mount the stairs, the way mercifully wider than the previous night’s climb. Casper relinquishes his hold on Prince Dan’s arm in favor of the railing. Immediately, he knows this to have been a misstep. The prince is undeniably calmed by touch.

At the top of the stairs, there is another hallway, and down this hallway is another tall door. It opens easily at Prince Dan’s touch, its hinges immense and well-oiled. Prince Dan enters without looking to see whether Casper will follow him, and he doesn’t hold the door open for him.

The room is immense and constructed in a similar style to the throne room. The rectangular stone pillars are more than decorative. Each sports two pairs of sconces, one pair at eye level and one far above. Through this, the high ceiling is freed of shadows and the shelves set into the walls are illuminated all the way up. Numerous display cases are scattered throughout, the glint on their glass concealing their contents. Wooden tables stretch in a row down the length of the library, leading toward a tall set of glass doors and a small balcony beyond. Judging by the music leaking through them, the doors open up facing the courtyard below.

Casper takes this in at a glance before closing the door behind them. When he turns back, Prince Dan is already leaning against the edge of a table and studying him intently.

Head held high, Casper tells him, “I’d like to apologize for panicking last night. That was poorly done.”

“Is that what you panicking looks like?” Prince Dan asks. He doesn’t push off from the table. He doesn’t decrease the distance between them. He leans with his arms folded and his feet crossed at the ankles. They are alone in a vast room, and Prince Dan is holding court.

“I turn cold,” Casper answers. “Moreover, on matters of ignorance, I grow silent.”

Silver-tipped horns tilt. Technically, Prince Dan smiles. It could as easily indicate sadness as a threat. Unaware of the irony, Prince Dan says, “You don’t seem like you have many areas of ignorance.”

“It’s a perception I’ve worked hard to cultivate,” Casper replies. “The fact of the matter remains that I have never wooed, nor have I been courted.”

The tilt of the horns changes. “You’re older than I am,” Prince Dan says, which seems to be an expression of doubt.

“I am,” Casper answers, “which is as much of my age as I’m currently willing to own.”

“And you’re saying you’ve never pursued anyone.”

“I am saying I’ve always had something else to pursue.” He holds his arms in apology as he would his wings: curved forward, palms up, beseeching. “I told you the night we met that I did not come here to socialize. I meant that in the truest sense. The only reason my sponsor permitted me to come here was the belief that it would further my current project. I’m not meant to have time for anything else.”

Prince Dan’s arms are no longer crossed quite so tightly. “What, your department head thought you’d spend the entire time staring at architecture? That’s ridiculous.”

“Many serious things are,” Casper agrees. He approaches slowly, as if allowing himself to be drawn. “Sir Dan, please understand, I am not in a position to take risks. There was much invested to send me here, and if I return empty-handed after so many people have seen me dallying with you, there will be consequences. The fault is my own, the dilemma mine, but I felt you would wish to know of it.”

At last, Prince Dan stands from his lean. He regards Casper in his typical unknowable fashion. “You get really formal when you’re nervous, you know that, right?”

“I’m aware,” Casper answers. “I have also been informed that this is how one is meant to speak with a prince.”

“I think your sponsor’s an i***t,” Prince Dan continues, not listening. “I don’t care who I’m insulting. They’re an idiot.”

“They have high expectations,” Casper replies, “and I have always been able to match them before.”

“They sent you to a party to do research.”

“Yes.”

“No,” Prince Dan says. “Not tonight.”

Casper tilts his head. He attempts a small frown of the mouth, primarily a motion of the lower lip. “I don’t understand.”

“You can research tomorrow,” Prince Dan tells him. “I mean that. Tomorrow night, you can hit the books, do whatever it is you need to do to justify this trip to the i***t funding you. But tonight, you take a break.”

“That’s not permissible.”

“I’m permitting it.” Prince Dan steps closer, deeply into Casper’s space. “There are three people in this kingdom who outrank me, and none of them are sponsoring you. Which means, I’m overruling it. Tonight, you get to be self-serving.”

Casper shakes his head. “In matters of survival, even servitude itself can become self-serving.”

“Cas,” Prince Dan says, and he takes Casper’s hands in his. This is what forthrightness looks like in a human: a straight back with curved shoulders, tilting in toward its target. “It’s one night. You can take one night off. The question is, do you want to?”

“Will I still be spending it with you?”

Prince Dan softens, the lines of his jaw and shoulders melting. “Yeah.”

“Then I want to,” Casper tells him. He’ll hardly be allowed into this library unaccompanied. “But I–”

Prince Dan squeezes his hands. “Nope. Too late. Decision’s made.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Wrong. Totally is. Stop disagreeing, that’s treason.”

Casper narrows his eyes. “That’s not how treason works.”

Prince Dan laughs and keeps holding Casper’s hands. He doesn’t squeeze again, doesn’t adjust his grip, but the sheer continuation of this hold is an impossibly thorough distraction. When his thumbs finally slide across Casper’s skin, it’s almost a relief.

“Look,” Prince Dan says. The mirth drains from his eyes but something else remains. “If tomorrow night doesn’t pan out and there are consequences, those will be on me. Honestly, it sounds like you need a better sponsor anyway. I can make that happen.”

The last thing Casper needs is the royal family inquiring into Casper’s status – or even his existence – at the university. “I don’t want to be beholden to you that way,” Casper tells him, holding Prince Dan’s hands tightly in return. “What’s more, I would be alarmed if you wanted me beholden to you that way.”

“I know people,” Prince Dan says. “Seriously, it might be a good thing you’re missing Sam’s wedding. If Charlie saw you, she’d grab you right up. I mean it, Cas. You’re not obligated to stay with the first person who gave you a leg up.”

“I haven’t,” Casper says, because Raphael is not Michael. “He died.”

“The second, then.”

Again, Prince Dan strokes with this thumbs. There are circles and sliding, and it unsettles something inside Casper deeply. Using a human level of effort, he tries to stop Prince Dan, and this leads to a strange sort of finger-trapping dance of motion, fingers moving against fingers. Both of them look down to watch their own hands like foreign creatures.

Feeling the touch of metal against the top of his head, Casper looks back up, and their masked faces are very close. Prince Dan lifts his face, and the horns rise from Casper’s head.

“If you wanted to apply to the Men of Letters, you could,” Prince Dan tells him. His voice is quiet, softer than the music still creeping through the balcony doors. “I wouldn’t be giving you a spot there, either. My father’s the one with the final say, and I can’t sway him one inch. It’s more of a modern research bent than what you’re used to, but it’s a solid position. The application is rough and the trial period is worse, but I think you’d be up to it.”

As he must so often in this strange world, so much changed from what he once knew, Casper takes a gamble. If tonight guarantees him free range of inquiry tomorrow, he has no other choice. He says, “I thought I was taking the night off.”

Prince Dan responds by displaying nearly all of his teeth at once. “Yeah?”

Casper nods. His face thus down-turned, he holds position and attempts a mouth smile, gentle at each side. He focuses on moving his lips rather than showing his teeth, and when he looks up through the holes of his mask, he finds the effect well-received. Though Casper is a novice at facial expressions, he is excellent at postures of deference. All former soldiers of Michael serving under Raphael have to be.

Prince Dan clears his throat. Voice rough, he says, “Couple things.”

Casper tilts his head attentively, and Prince Dan’s mouth twitches.

“Sorry, that was the most bird-like thing I’ve ever seen. Even without a beak on that mask.”

“That wasn’t one of the things,” Casper assumes.

“No, it wasn’t.” Though without food or drink, Prince Dan swallows. The corresponding motion of his neck is strange but far from displeasing. “First thing. When you want me to kiss you, you gotta say.”

This seems needlessly vague. “When I want you to, or when I want you to act upon that wanting?”

“Um,” Prince Dan says. His eyes are round but very dark. “Both? Let’s go with both. Just, uh. I just don’t want to take you by surprise again, that’s all.”

“That’s very considerate of you.”

“Yeah, that’s me.” Prince Dan licks his lips. He swallows again, and Casper watches both motions intently. “Considerate.”

“You implied a second matter, Sir Dan.”

“Just Dan. Like this, just Dan.” He doesn’t so much gesture between them as he gestures around them, perhaps indicating privacy. The distraction of an abruptly empty hand prevents Casper from studying the motion as thoroughly as he would like.

“You’re already very informal,” Casper says. Perhaps he ought to be frowning here, but he can’t spare the concentration to make the attempt. “Everyone else answers to their highest title, but it’s widely accepted that you respond to your lowest.”

“Knight Prince tradition,” Prince Dan explains. “Plus, it’s my favorite. But when you’re being wooed, you call the other person by their name, all right?”

“Was that the second matter, Sir Dan?” Casper asks.

Prince Dan waits.

“Was that the second matter, Dan?”

“Yes,” Prince Dan says. “I mean, no. It is now.”

“Then there’s a third matter?”

“Yeah, speaking of things that come in threes.” He looks at Casper in what Casper imagines is a significant manner. He lifts his hand which still holds Casper’s and sets his free hand, warm and wide, against Casper’s hip. His fingers don’t quite brush Casper’s feathers. It’s close enough for all of the tension and far enough for none of the relief. “Third night, Cas. We should be having our third dance tonight.”

“I still don’t know how to dance.”

“That’s why I’m going to teach you. Up here, without people watching. Yeah?”

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to be researching tonight,” Casper jokes. He’s uncertain he’s used the right tone until Prince Dan’s lips tug to the side.

“I might not be the genius in the room, but I’m not dumb enough to think I could stop you entirely.” Prince Dan sways in close, slow, before practically springing away, tugging on Casper’s hand. “C’mon, over here.”

He pulls Casper past the line of tables, pausing only to discard his mask on the last of them. “Don’t want to brain you with the horns again,” he explains. He releases Casper as well, but only for a moment. Once he opens the balcony doors wide enough for the music to be truly heard, he returns.

Last night, starlight and moonlight had framed the features of his revealed face. Tonight, the magelight of the sconces suits him just as well. His brow and eyes. His nose and lips. The faint freckles fading into his cheeks.