“She did not believe him. She told him that the child of ‘this unsuitable young man’ would sit on the throne. Well, you are the Master of the Domain, sire.”
Titus gripped his hands together. “Do you believe Prince Gaius?”
“I don’t know that I do. He certainly took pleasure in telling the ugly truth, but he was not above a convenient lie or two. After all, if he had been behind it, what was the point in confessing at that late stage?”
Titus nodded slowly. “Do I . . . do I look like him at all, my father?”
“You have something of his aspect, sire; but in the main, you bear a far greater resemblance to Her Highness.”
“Did my mother keep any images of him?” Would he at last have a glimpse of his father? Would he recognize something of himself in the smile that his mother had loved so much?
“If she did, I did not find any among her belongings after her passing.”
Disappointment cut sharp and deep—it was not to be, then. Titus should be accustomed to yet one more of his heart’s desires not being granted, but the feeling of emptiness inside Titus only intensified.
He pushed aside the sensation of loss. “You said he was expected to return before the start of spring term. Was he a student?”
“Yes, sire. At the Royal Hesperia Institute.” The Royal Hesperia Institute, situated at the other end of University Avenue from the Conservatory, had been built by the Sihar so that their children too could receive an advanced education. “He was a student of botany.”
Realization dawned. “The vine that my mother loved to sit under? Did he give it to her?”
“Yes, sire.”
How often had he seen his mother, caressing the stem or a leaf from the vine? And when was her room without a garland of the small golden flowers, draped over a mirror or a bedpost?
Titus swallowed the lump in his throat. “Am I named after him?”
“Yes, sire, you are. His name was Titus Constantinos. His father—”
“Was Eugenides Constantinos, who ran the Emporium of Fine Learning and Curiosities on University Avenue.” Now it all made sense. “What happened to him?”
What happened to my grandfather?
“Titus was his only child, and I’m afraid the loss was too much. He sold his shop and moved back to Upper Marin March. He died a few years later.”
And Mrs. Hinderstone had bought the place and opened her sweets shop, where Fairfax loved to go for pinemelon ice, not knowing that she was sitting in the very same spot where her fate was first written. And where his parents had met and fallen in love.
“Thank you, Dalbert,” he said. “Let me not keep you with any more questions.”
Much still needed to be done before they left the mountains.
Dalbert rose to his feet. “If I may, sire, I would like to accompany you.”
It was tempting, terribly tempting, to say yes. “I would give my wand arm to have you. But war and destruction are coming to these shores, and you will be desperately needed here. You know who can be trusted. Help them to protect my people.”
Dalbert inclined his head. “I understand, sire.”
Titus rose and touched his forehead to Dalbert’s. “Thank you, Master Dalbert. Thank you for everything all these years.”
Dalbert, with a sheen of tears in his eyes, bowed and left.
Titus wiped the heels of his hands across his eyes as he watched the departure of the man who was the closest thing he had to a father figure.
There was nowhere to go now but Atlantis.
CHAPTER 13
PALACE AVENUE, THE BIGGEST THOROUGHFARE in Delamer, passed before all five mage-made peninsulas that constituted the Right Hand of Titus. It was not the liveliest place at night, as most of the grand edifices on either side housed the various agencies and departments that ran the business of the realm—the House of Elberon had always understood that the trick to surviving a few incompetent rulers was a strong bureaucracy capable of seeing to the day-to-day operations of the Domain even if an idiot sat on the throne.
But usually one could expect to see some flow of traffic and pedestrians, attending a concert in the public parks or going down to the beach for a moonlight stroll. Tonight the avenue was utterly empty and the reasons, scores of them, hovered motionlessly overhead, each metallic bird shining a harsh light upon the capital city, which together mashed into an overbright ceiling that shut out the stars.