Chapter 21 - Family
21
Family
Nathaniel’s grey eyes swept the room once again. White smiles were flashing like fireworks. Wine poured itself generously down already wet throats. Laughter and shouts filled the air, along with the perfumes of rich women and the warm spices the lower ones rubbed onto their wrists. Feet spun and slammed on the polished black floor. The large room was a blur of velvety white feathers. There was very little to see. The cloudy eyes returned to the glass of red wine in front of him, then drifted gently closed beneath pale lashes. The only thing saving him from an evening of detachment was the beautiful sound of a strange instrument just to his right. An old, leathery Fae man drew a bow across it with the hand of an artist. The resulting soft, sweet sounds twisted and swirled themselves through the air, ensnaring Nathaniel’s chest and seemingly pulling tight. He wondered if it was his imagination, or if a slight film of tears was forming under his eyelids. It was beautiful. It must be Fae magic. No one could play like that but one of them.
A sharp curse-word sounded on his left. Nathaniel’s eyes snapped open just in time to see a shining pink blur pass in front of his face, followed by the sound of shattered glass. The music stopped.
“Play something faster, you old devil!” Micah’s young, clear voice cut through the air like a whip. “I’m falling asleep over here! No one can dance to that rubbish you’re squeaking out!” Nathaniel turned to look at the young man, obviously the one who had thrown the wine glass. The two sets of grey eyes matched each other quite closely.
“That was uncalled for, you dimwitted pig.” Nathaniel spoke so softly it hardly sounded like an insult. “If you can’t control yourself, I highly suggest that you leave. Please, spare us your stupidity.”
There was a short, awkward silence between the two brothers. The incident had gone highly unnoticed among the club’s patrons, but a few people closer to the table were staring. Micah and Nathaniel looked very much alike, though Micah was undoubtedly a few years younger. They both had pale blond hair; Nathaniel’s was neatly pulled back into a long plait that flowed like a river between the two enormous white wings on his back. Micah’s hair was cropped short, though long enough to allow a few strands of white to dangle above his eyebrows. The faces with their ashy eyes were very similar, save for a pointedness to Micah’s chin and a sharp tension that pulled at his face from right between his light eyebrows. He glared defiantly at his elder brother, but did not speak further.
A third young man pushed his chair back from the table loudly. The locked grey stares broke apart to glance up at a pair of slightly darker, more youthful eyes. David looked less like his older brothers than they did each other. He was shorter, though he looked as though he might be young enough to grow another inch or two. His eyes, perhaps for their deeper shade, seemed slightly more intense. His hair, the same pure blond, was cut evenly just above his shoulders. He did not speak.
Already on his feet, the boy glared at both elder brothers and turned sharply away from the table, grabbing a linen napkin in his strong fist as he went. David’s thick-soled boots made hardly a sound in the crowded hall as he walked solemnly to the bewildered-looking Fae man and handed him the cloth. The wrinkled face blinked blearily up at him and started to sputter thanks. David did not respond. He turned sharply once again and vanished into the thick crowd.
Nathaniel stood heavily. His large white wings cleared a space behind him. He was quite taller than David, and wore a charcoal-colored suit that was both simple and elegant. Every inch of him was polished and well-groomed. The heels of his glossy shoes clicked against the hard floor as he stepped around the table, his soft eyes scanning the room with purpose. They fell on a young man who was attending to guests a few tables away. Nathaniel lifted his hand just above shoulder height. It was a graceful movement, soft like his speech; hardly noticeable.
The young man’s eyes flicked upward and caught the motion from across the room. He flashed a breathtakingly apologetic smile at the Angelis customers as he placed the last glass of wine on the table, then turned and walked toward Nathaniel, letting the etched silver serving tray fall against his hip.
Nathaniel let his own masculine hand fall to his side as he watched the boy’s approach. The creature had an absurd animal-like grace to his step and poise. He seemed to cower a little when he ducked past the taller Angelis people and kept his gleaming dragonfly wings close to his back to avoid unwanted contact. The pleasant smile that hovered on his cinnamon lips did not fade, however faint it appeared. He reached Nathaniel and bowed his head slightly.
“Can I be of assistance?” The boy’s eyes gleamed in the light of thousands of candelabras. Now that he was close, Nathaniel could see the pretty brown freckles that dusted his cheeks and nose and spanned his shoulders like stars in the sky.
"You lovely thing," Nathaniel couldn't help muttering as he looked down at the tan, boyish face. He lifted a hand and ran his palm over the Fae boy's smooth cheek. The boy did not move away from the touch, though his cheeks flushed slightly redder, matching the hue of his tousled hair. "Of course you can. I believe this gentleman over here," he swept the hand from the speckled cheekbone and toward the wine-covered old minstrel, "dropped his glass, the poor fellow. Could you tidy that up for us, dear?" Reaching into his pocket, Nathaniel pulled out two silver coins and pressed them into the boy's soft hand. He couldn't help but notice several white lines on the palm before the dark fingers quickly closed around the coins.
"Yes, sir," the boy nodded, flashing a white smile before darting off once again, tucking the coins into a small suede pouch at his waist. Nathaniel watched him go, staring unabashedly at the scantily-clad figure for a moment more. He inhaled sharply and turned away. Micah was still sulking at the table. Nathaniel felt a pang of guilt for his brother's actions, then shook it away with a heft of his wings. There was nothing to be done for it now.
"You're softening with every year, Nathaniel." Nathaniel did not need to look to recognize the woman that had appeared at his side. He could smell the heavy scent of roses, and the disdainful tone left no question in his mind.
"Angel or Fae, there's no reason to treat a dying old man like that, Lucia." His eyes narrowed as he looked up at the high ceiling. It was painstakingly painted with images of angels with gold leaf in their hair. Undoubtedly it was done by Faerie hands.
"The boy, Nathaniel," Lucia spat. Her high voice dripped with disgust. "The little drudge with the red hair."
Nathaniel shrugged and smiled. "He is attractive, is he not? Why shouldn't I admire?"
"I know what you look like when you admire. You admire me." For the first time since her arrival, Nathaniel turned to look at the slender woman beside him. Her full lips were painted and glossed. She was wearing an elegant cape made entirely of peacock feathers over her wings. Her shining chocolate hair cascaded in soft curls around her face and neck. The rest was piled loosely on top of her head, a nest of shimmering loops. He smiled.
"You see? There it is. Admiration." Lucia smirked, her heavily-lidded turquoise eyes condescending. "But there is no longing there."
Nathaniel laughed, a quick bark of a sound. "Longing? You don't even know what longing is, my sweet." Lucia scowled. "You've never longed for anyone in your life. How can you pretend you know what it feels like, what it means to want to love someone?" The smile no longer reached his eyes.
"If you're looking for something to play with, by all means, take him." Lucia gestured to the dragonfly boy, who was crouched on the ground just out of earshot, picking up fragments of glass with delicate fingers. "Take him home and do whatever you want with him. Or her," she said, pointing to another servant dressed sparsely in shining gold ribbon. "Or any little Faerie wench in the Aviary you take a liking to. But do not seek to love them, Nathaniel." Her big, blue-green eyes were full of an emotion that might have been pity. "Find love from one of your own."
The smile had faded from Nathaniel's well-featured face. He watched the candlelight dance on the servant boy's spine as he mopped up spilled wine with a white cloth. He wished to say that he was disgusted with his kind. He wanted to ask her bitingly to sever his wings so that he might be mistaken for a Man rather than Angelis. His eyes burned, but he did not say a word. Even if he were to speak, it would not be purely truth.
"You see that door over there?" Lucia asked. Pulled out of his thoughts, Nathaniel looked grudgingly. Like many of the doors in the hall, it was rich mahogany inlaid with silky mother-of-pearl. In the center of this one, amidst a twisting design of leaves and berries, was a heavy brass knocker in the shape of a burning star. It was firmly closed.
"I see it," Nathaniel answered.
"Your mother and father walked through that door many times," Lucia related. "Your mother and father were there the day that door was closed to nearly everyone, yet they still entered." Turning to Nathaniel, the woman took both his hands in hers. "You and your brothers are destined to join the League. It's in your blood. There is no higher calling, Nathaniel!" Lucia's voice seemed urgent. Nathaniel did not interrupt. "I thought for sure you'd receive an invitation on your twenty-fifth. When you didn't..."
"I haven't shown open interest in the League. Why should I receive--"
"Listen to me, Nathaniel!" Lucia grasped his hands tighter. "If you keep slipping up, you'll not only spoil your chances, but you'll ruin it for Micah and David too."
Nathaniel looked into Lucia's face. It was beautiful when she was pleading like this. Unfortunately, it was a rare occurrence. "My dear lady," Nathaniel said, "if and when I choose to enter the League, I will and I will do so of my own accord."
"And your brothers?"
"David will be given the chance when he is ready. As for Micah, I can only hope he never walks through your precious door."
Scorn fell over Lucia's face once more, making it look sour once again. She snatched her hands away and stared hard at the Angelis man. Then, looking haughtier than ever, she spun on her heel and walked away, the blanket of peacock feathers swishing from shoulder to ankle. Nathaniel watched her thoughtfully as she pushed her way through the crowd, elbowing several young attendants rather sharply out of her way. He peered through the clusters of people from across the room as she approached the door, raised a shapely hand to the brass knocker, and disappeared through it in a cloud of blue, black and green.
"You're so selfish," hissed another voice at his side.
Nathaniel rolled his eyes. "Isn't there any peace in this infernal place?"
Micah rounded on him. "If you want peace, perhaps you should leave this place! Or better yet, leave Cion! Then I wouldn't have to keep cleaning up your messes!"
"Messes?" Nathaniel raised a pale eyebrow.
"Everywhere I go, everything I do in this damned city is affected by the way you act, brother!" It was obvious Micah was fighting to keep his voice down. "You're gaining a reputation that David and I don't deserve!"
"I am only one man," Nathaniel replied, the slight smile returning to his pale lips. "Certainly one man can't be of too much consequence in a city of thousands."
"You're important enough," Micah breathed grudgingly. He looked directly into his brother's face. "I will join the League, and I will not allow you to stop me."
Nathaniel smiled again. Happy lines appeared at the corners of his eyes. "Do whatever you like. I certainly don't mind." He turned to walk away and ran full-on into a pretty Fae girl in a ponytail, knocking several platters of food out of her grasp. He pulled her close to him and kissed her surprised, open mouth. He made sure everyone could see.