Cecil had found a nook on the far side of the library, hoping that anyone who knew him wouldn’t see him, or at least know where he was supposed to be. It was a single room study carrel that held one chair, and one table big enough to have two open books at a time. But since his research was generally limited to one book at a time, he had no problems with it.

  He looked through the ghost book first, skipping to the color coded map in the back. And there it was!

  Evidently one of the previous kings had married one of the girls of a dragon clan to help boost the magic in their blood, and gain assistance if war happened. She hated the castle and the marriage and had insisted that she live separately with her pet dragons. But she just withered away, till a miscarriage killed her. Her small dragons turned blue from the years of tears she had cried, and went wild and started to live in the garden. Their call sounds like a woman crying because they still mourn her death and won’t be tamed by another. Afterwards, the king married two more women, who both died in childbirth. The king grew old and died childless. Another had to be chosen as his heir.

  Now the place was considered haunted. And if you disturbed her peace, you would be cursed with barraness. Cecil closed the book and chuckled. No wonder no one went there. The nobles existed to continue and better their bloodlines. Just like those horse breeders. Concerned with talent, wealth, and health.

  Which meant that it was the perfect place to continue hanging out. It also explained the sand hollows possibly. But he’d never seen one of the blue dragons nesting on the ground. If she had brought them as pets, then they had been tamed at some point. The question was, had someone been able to tame them since?

  The next morning Fanny left in a hurry, his clothes laid out for the day. She was acting strangely, but he couldn’t complain. Especially since it allowed him more freedom to pursue his new project.

  Today was the last meeting, and Cecil went to satisfy the wishes of Talmage. The meeting had gone even worse than the last one he’d attended three days ago. They could barely agree on anything. So the result was a study in half measures.

  There was a full embargo on trade to Inatol. There were some considerations on how to deal with Inatol, because all factions agreed that having a neighboring country in the state of revolution did not bode well for the security of the kingdom. There were some considerations about sending Eriss or Arron to smooth things over. One to Istania to hopefully gain some political capital, and feel out the political environment towards their country. It was a risky move, but it was agreed that having two spare heirs at home meant that the risk was only to losing good talent. Especially if an experienced diplomat went with them.

  Cecil had sunk down in his chair when that point had been made. Arron and Eriss were almost a decade older than him. Of course they would be stronger. They would always be stronger than the spare.

  Unless he stood out.

  But no matter what he felt about it, not anyone else for that matter, the subject of war was suspended until further action was required.

  And the whole issue was dropped.

  On the surface at least.

  There were probably people who would still be lobbying support for whatever side that they were on.

  Once the meeting adjourned, Cecil felt the weight of everything crush him to exhaustion. So, while he still had a day to blow off, he walked through the garden, flipped a rude gesture Tavv had taught him towards the statue, safe behind a bush where the thing couldn’t see, then dodged through the maze of topiary, crawled through the hole in the wall and slipped through on his hands and knees. Then he stood and dusted himself off inside the wall of the haunted house of barrenness.

  Today was a good day for an uninterrupted nap in the sun.

  “Why’d you crawl through? Seems undignified don’t it?”

  Cecil whipped around and looked up. There at the top of the wall sat Oakley, chewing on a piece of grass and swinging one leg off the wall while he lay on his back.

  “I might rip my clothes if I climb over.” he called back, arms crossed.

  What did Oakley know anyways? He muttered.

  The older boy turned slightly and looked at Cecil. “Can’t climb eh?”

  His face flushed, “No, I just choose not to.”

  He needed another plan. If he didn’t want to be a laughing stock, he needed somewhere he could learn in secret and-

  “I’ll teach you if you give me all the snacks in your bag. And if you want more lessons, same deal.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Cecil glanced down at his book bag, full of his favorite spiced cookies.

  “That is, if you’r not a wuss.”

  “I’m no wuss!”

  “Then throw up you’r cookies.”

  Cecil walked over reluctantly then carefully threw the cookies up. Oakley caught it deftly, spit out his grass, and took out a cookie. He smelled it suspiciously.

  “What kinda cookie is this?”

  “The bag is labeled” he said in a huff.

  Cecil watched him turn the bag over, glance at the words, then shrug.

  “Fancy cookies oughta taste good no matter the flavor.” And started eating one.

  That was an odd exchange.

  It was almost as if… “Can you read?”

  “Course.” The answer was muffled by cookies.

  “Then what flavor are they?”

  A pause.

  “The good kind.”

  Cecil grinned, “Are you too wuss to read a book.”

  “No. I just don’t want to.”

  “Tell you what. If you teach me to climb better, I’ll teach you how to read better. Deal?”

  Oakley glanced down sullenly “Will you still bring snacks?”

  He shrugged. “Sure. why not.”

  “Then deal.”

  Cecil dangled from the old stone wall, arms burning, feet scrambling for purchase against the surface. Above him, Oakley perched like a smug cat, one leg swinging lazily over the edge.“Well, go on then,” Oakley called down, in between cookies. “Ain’t no point in hangin’ there like a half-plucked chicken.”

  “I’m-” Cecil gasped, adjusting his grip, “-working on it.”

  Oakley finished a cookie, stood, and scrambled down the wall.

  “You’re relying too much on your arms. Use your legs more. Like going up a tree, push, don’t just pull.”

  Cecil glared up at him. “I don’t climb trees.”

  Oakley’s eyes widened in exaggerated shock. “Well, ain’t that the saddest thing I ever heard.”

  He tugged Cecil down before he could argue and nudged him toward a half-fallen section of the wall with plenty of vines. “Here. Start small,” he looked back at the section Cecil had been trying to climb, “Well, smaller.”

  Cecil huffed “That was uncalled for.”

  “Shush. I’m the teacher. I say what's called for.”

  Cecil grumbled, but did as told. The ground was littered with all sorts of stones that had fallen, and he tried to think of them as stairs. He pushed off the ground, then pulled himself up onto a protruding stone. He wobbled, thinking hard over every movement.

  “Don’t look at your feet,” Oakley said. “Feel for it. Your hands and feet’ll learn what to do if you let ‘em.”

  Cecil scowled at the seeming non-sequitur, but as he climbed higher, he found Oakley was right. His body adjusted, his legs steadied, and his fingers found grips he hadn’t noticed before. He was still slower than Oakley, but when he finally reached the top, he turned to find Oakley grinning up at him.

  “See? Told ya.”

  Cecil sat on the wall, breathing hard but beaming with triumph. Then Oakley vaulted up in several smooth motions and grabbed the bag of cookies.

  “You’ll be good at this soon enough,” Oakley said, hands behind his head. “Might even give me a run for my money.”

  Cecil smirked. “I plan to… Can I have a cookie since we agreed on another payment?”

  “No. This was payment for now. That will be payment for later.”

  Cecil shrugged. It was no great loss. He could always get more. The inconvenience was in not having them now. But that meant he could just start on his reading now.

  They sat content in the sun, focused on their task, as they sat above the wild tangle of the abandoned garden. Somewhere, a flying lizard trilled a lazy cry in the warm afternoon.

  His thoughts coalesced into a solution to some of his problems.

  “Hey Oakley?”

  “Yah?

  “You like sharp things?”

  Morning came again, and with it, a return to schedule.

  Cecil knocked lightly on the door, waiting for the faint, “enter” before walking inside. Madam Wyntrop sat demure at the table, watching him approach.

  “Posture dear Cecil, posture. It is the very foundation upon which people base their opinions on. And yours is currently quite low.”

  He straightened his spine and sighed internally. Between her and Talmage, his back muscles never got any rest. And both of them had an obsession for gossip! He sat and arranged the napkin on his lap. If they both liked gossip, did the two ever have tea together to exchange rumors?

  He paused. Maybe there was a way to test it.

  Madam Wyntrop picked up the teapot and filled his cup. “What news have you heard my dear? And help yourself to the scones.”

  He reached out and put one on his saucer, “Don’t mind if I do. And I have heard something recently. Some are saying that Mily Judicore is with child. And since she is engaged, there are bets as to whether it is Jame’s, or some other man’s child.”

  This was the gossip he had given Talmage earlier that week.

  Her eyes watched him over the rim of her cup, blue eyes glinting like the silver set sapphires on her fingers.

  “Hmm, one does hear of things like that. Fortunately for the girl, the rumor was started by the woman Jame was originally going to marry. It was completely unfounded.”

  She took a sip of tea. So, she had heard the rumor, but knew more of it than what he had told Talmage. Either she had already known it, or when Talmage told her in the last four days, she went to find more accurate information.

  Cecil added more sugar to his cup and stirred it in with a silver spoon. While not important, he was curious to see if the two gossipped together. All it would take was tailing one of them until they met up. And since he didn’t want to risk getting conscripted for chores, he would follow the widow Wyntrop. Old ladies couldn’t go very far or fast anyways. Either way, it would have to wait until he had the time for it.