World of Warcraft: The Shattering: Prelude to Cataclysm Page 0,27

her something hot to drink. She waved aside the offers, smiling kindly, and thanked them for their attentiveness. As she was a well-known visitor, they did not question where she wished to go in the keep when she asked directions.

Jaina made her way past the formal rooms and the throne room into the private areas of the castle. She reached her destination, smoothed her soggy hair, and knocked on the door to Anduin’s quarters.

There was no immediate response. She tried again, this time saying quietly, “Anduin? It’s me, Jaina.”

She heard the quiet tread of feet approaching the door, and then it opened a crack. Solemn blue eyes peered up at her and then flickered past her.

“It’s just me,” she assured him. He nodded his fair head and then stepped back to admit her.

Stormwind Keep was lavish enough, she supposed, though it did not hold a candle to Lordaeron’s once-magnificent palace. She remembered what Prince Arthas’s chambers had been like as she took in Anduin’s rather sparse room. He had been prince all his life, and king for a time, during Varian’s absence, and yet this room was simple and spare. The bed was small, better suited to the child he had been rather than the youth he was. He’d need a larger one soon, she thought; he was growing like a weed. The bed frame lacked ornate hangings, the walls paintings, save for one—a portrait of Anduin and his mother, Queen Tiffin, when the boy was still an infant. Jaina guessed she had died not long after that portrait had been painted, slain by a rock thrown during a Defias riot. It was this incident that she had referred to earlier with Varian, in an attempt to get him to understand the position Thrall was in. Tiffin’s son had never known her.

There was a simple nightstand with a pitcher of water and a basin next to the bed on one side. An unlit brazier stood a few feet away, to take the chill off the room in winter. A door opened presumably to another room where Anduin’s clothing and other regalia were stored, as Jaina saw nothing here, not even a wardrobe. In the center of the room there was a single chair next to a small table upon which sat books, parchment, ink, and a quill. Politely Anduin eased the chair out for her, reaching to take off her cloak and hang it up, then stood next to the chair, his arms folded. He was obviously still upset from his earlier conversation with his father.

“You’re drenched,” he said flatly. “Let me order you some hot tea.”

“Thank you. That would be most welcome.” She gave him a smile.

He returned it, but it was forced and did not reach his eyes. He tugged on a braided rope beside the door.

“I swear, you’ll be as big as your father the next time I see you,” Jaina teased, hoping to ease him out of his mood. She settled into the chair.

He grimaced slightly. “Which version of my father?” His voice was evenly pitched, carefully modulated as befit a prince, but the words had a bite to them that Jaina, who knew him so well, winced at.

“Your father is chagrined that you witnessed that,” she said gently.

“I’m certain he is,” Anduin said in that same voice. “But there are many things I have witnessed at my age.”

He stood straight and tall, his hands clasped behind his back. Was he betrothed yet? She realized she didn’t know. She hoped not. Anduin was right. He had seen a great deal in his short life, and she had rather hoped that he would yet have some time to be a boy, at least.

“Oh, for pity’s sake,” she said, waving a slightly annoyed hand at him. “You’re unsettling me, standing there like you have a polearm for a spine. Go hop on the bed and talk with me. You know I’m not much for ceremony.”

Like ice cracking under the first warm rays of a spring sun, a slight smile curved Anduin’s lips. She winked at him. The smile became a full-fledged grin, a slightly sheepish one, but a grin nonetheless.

There was a soft knock on the door. A gray-haired servant stood in the doorway.

“What can I do for you, Your Highness?”

“Some peacebloom tea. Two cups. Oh …” He turned to Jaina. “Are you cold? I can have Wyll light the brazier for us.”

Jaina quirked an eyebrow, lifted a hand, and fluttered it in the direction of the brazier.