Chapter 5: Blackest Envy

Three years later

Theo had complained and whined and begged not to be sent out with Uncle Cadan and Uncle Declan, who had been given a short leave from the Templar Order. He'd stomped and stormed and pouted and thrown a temper tantrum that made his mother blush and his father scream at him. "You are thirteen! You are still my child, and if you continue to behave like this I will tell your uncles not to bother bringing you home!"

The more he protested being sent on a hunting excursion, the more his father and Brother Madron couldn't wait to get rid of him. And he was supposed to serve the Chantry anyway, so why did his father keep putting it off? That was almost worse than the empty threats.

In truth Theo was thrilled to finally be getting away for a bit, without having to find the time and opportunity to sneak away. Master Blain was crafty, and Theo learned more than just bow making and target practice with him. And he was also learning from Afton, the fletcher, how to make arrows. He did the best he could with the equipment on the manor grounds, but the more he worked with his own bow and arrows, the more the household weaponry felt clumsy and inadequate.

He waited until he and his uncles had ridden a few miles outside of the Trevelyans' grounds before he stopped pouting and spurred his horse to a lively trot to ride alongside his uncles rather than trailing behind. They were headed north, through a pass in the Vimmark Mountains to camp and hunt. The air was fresh and the sky was clear, and if Theo ignored the templar crest on his uncles' livery, he could pretend he was free.

"You're a strange one," Declan said when they set camp for the night. "You threw a bigger fit than most possessed mages I've seen, but now you actually seem pleased to be here."

Theo settled down on the ground and leaned against a log. He pulled out his pocket knife and began stripping the bark from a small stack of twigs. "If I told Father I wanted to go, he would have found a reason for me to stay behind," he said with a shrug. "Or Brother Madron would have found more work for me to do just to keep me back."

Cadan laughed from across the fire. "Most brothers don't know what the outdoors is… They know fresh air and sunlight about as intimately as they know a woman." Declan laughed at that, and Theo just blushed and kept stripping twigs. Gavriel told him that some of the servant girls in the manor, and even some of the town girls they saw at Chantry services looked at him. From the way Gave talked it seemed like it should mean something to a thirteen-year-old boy.

"You know not all templars are warriors," Cadan said once he'd finished stoking the fire. "And not all of us serve inside a Circle."

Theo sighed. "Mum doesn't want me becoming a templar," he said. He inspected the twig in his hand, looking for any crookedness. "Did Father have you take me out to try and recruit me?"

Declan and Cadan looked at one another. "It can't hurt to have options."

It was Theo's turn to laugh. "My whole life's being planned for me. What does it matter?" But it did matter… even the fact that his mother insisted he would not be a templar. It was bad enough that it was pretty much non-negotiable that his only purpose in this world was to go serve the Chantry, but to have both of his parents trying to dictate in what regard…

"What are you doing?" Declan asked instead, nodding to the pile of stripped twigs.

"Making arrows."

"Where'd you learn that? I can't imagine Brother Madron would have that filed under teachable skills," Cadan said with a laugh.

Theo shrugged. "Just picked it up watching. People say and do a lot of things when they don't know you're there." It was one perk to being invisible. And yet he was still visible enough that they knew he was there, and he knew they'd eventually send him away. He sighed and examined the stick in his hand. There would be no salvaging that one. He tossed it into the fire and watched the flames consume it.

They ate a simple dinner under the stars. Cadan and Declan told stories about Theo's father and his other uncle, Brandon, and what it was like growing up as the two youngest. He smiled and laughed, but knew they were just trying to make him feel better about his inevitable future. And something else nagged at him. He hadn't seen much of Gavriel lately. His parents were harried; some weeks his mother didn't go to Chantry services, nor did Gave. When Theo experimented and said it wasn't fair that Gave got to stay home, his mother actually started crying and his father scowled.

By now Gwyn was married and Thisbe had been matched to a young man from Wycome and had gone to take her lessons there prior to the marriage. Matty had long been out of the manor, and Theo had never met Maranda; he sometimes wondered if she even existed. But it was only Theo and Gave at home now, and he found it strange that, at eighteen, Gave had yet to be matched off as well. And it probably had something to do with their parents' strange attitudes.

The next day Theo risked taking out his own bow when they prepared to go out on the hunt. "Master Blain has been showing me a few things here and there," he said with a shrug when Uncle Cadan asked where he'd gotten such a bow.

"You're telling me you made that?" Cadan asked, and Theo nodded. He loosed a few arrows at a hay bale target they'd set up to practice on before actually going out. "Does your father know?"

Theo shrugged. "He's been preoccupied," he said. He didn't want his father to take the bow, or stop archery lessons. But at the same time, if his schoolwork couldn't impress the man, maybe his craftsmanship could.

"He's got a lot on his mind lately," Declan said and earned a glare from Cadan. Declan sighed. "Maker's hairy balls, Cay. How much more can be kept from the kid?"

Theo didn't even protest being called a kid. He didn't feel like he was really getting any older, or being treated anymore grown up. His mother still fussed over him; his father still ignored him, unless Theo gave him a reason to reprimand him. Sometimes he did, if just to remind the Bann of Ostwick that he still had a third son.

Cadan gathered their arrows. "Your brother's sick," he said at last. "Very sick. They're not sure he'll survive."

"They've called in healers from the Circle," Declan added.

"Is my sister one of them?" Theo asked. He'd never met Maranda, and the way his family spoke of her, it was as if she'd died.

"I'm not sure what school she excels in," Declan told him. "But your family thought it best that you be away from home. In the event of the worst."

Theo nodded and packed his arrows into his quiver before shouldering his bow. A strange cold settled in his gut. Not fear for his brother. Guilt. Matty was the heir to Ostwick, and Gavriel was the 'spare'. And if Gavriel died, Theo would be the spare. They couldn't send him away anymore if they actually needed him.

His uncles took his general silence through the rest of the trip as a cue that he was worried for his older brother. And he was, he truly was. He would swear to the Maker that he didn't want Gave to die; Gave was probably the only one of his siblings who'd ever acted like one.

But if Gavriel did die…

A few days later they began the trek back to Ostwick with the spoils of their trip. Theo sunk into himself, dreading the return home. No matter what awaited him when he got home, it wasn't good. He spent the nights tossing in his bedroll under the stars, wrestling with his guilt and jealousy and trying to pray, but the words of the Chant felt hollow and meaningless. Everything Brother Madron had been teaching him had become little more than routine, something he had to endure. The fervent faith of his father, and the rest of his family, had been watered down to almost nothing.

And he was only thirteen.

He was probably doomed. Only indentured service to the Chantry could save his soul now, but… he wasn't even sure if that was a price he wanted to pay.

Uncle Cadan and Uncle Declan tried to keep things lively, but as they crossed into Ostwick and drew nearer to the Trevelyan estate, they were silent. Theo kept his horse reined in at a walk and looked about him. It was an overcast day and the air smelled of the ocean: it was likely a storm was rolling in. The yards were quiet and the stable hands solemn when they came out to attend to Theo and his uncles.

They walked up the path toward the manor house, which suddenly looked imposing against the gray sky. He scanned the turrets nervously. The banners snapping in the wind were grey and light blue—not black. Theo breathed a sigh of relief even as his stomach clenched up with a feeling he could not place. His steps became faster, and then he was running for the doors even as his uncles called after him.

He made for Gavriel's room, ignoring the surprised protests of the servants as he tracked mud through the halls. He was still in his dirty traveling clothes and the dust of the roads clung to his hands and hair. His pulse thudded in his ears and it was hard to get a good breath.

Gavriel's door was ajar. Theo peeked inside. His mother sat at the bedside, face pale and haggard. It was not something he was used to seeing, and it made the ache inside him grow. But nothing hurt more than seeing his father kneeling at the foot of Gave's bed, deep in prayer, with tears running down his face.

"Master Theo, you shouldn't be here," a servant said, trying to shoo him from the door.

"That's my brother in there," he snapped. He felt bad, sort of. The servant was only doing his job. But seeing his parents so drained and worried pained him. And he wondered if they'd feel the same if it was him lying there.

Bann Trevelyan opened the door and glared at them. Theo was thirteen and growing: his limbs were gangly and he was getting taller, but his father still managed to glower down at him with disapproval in his dark eyes. "You're home."

Theo just blinked and held his breath, waiting for the inevitable tirade. But his father just sighed before pushing past him and storming down the hall. Theo was left to wonder if it was relief or disappointment in his father's voice. He peeked into the room; his mother looked up and tried to smile. When he hesitated, she waved him in.

"Father's probably going to let Uncle Declan have it," he said in greeting. He stared at the floor, wondering what he was doing here. There wasn't anything he could do, and now that he was home, he wondered why he'd been so anxious to return.

Then his mother was hugging him close to her in spite of his dusty clothes and muddy shoes. She smoothed back his hair and took a step back to look at him: really look at him, not just glance at him. He was as tall as she was, and she still looked at him with tears in her eyes, as if he were still a little boy. After the way his father had brushed him off it made a lump come to his throat. "Welcome home, sweetheart," she said at last. "Don't worry; your uncles can handle your father."

"I'm not worried about them," he said and forced a smile he could not feel. He made himself look at his older brother. Gavriel was sleeping. His skin was ashen, his lips bloodless. His breathing was shallow, but he was indeed breathing. One arm lay atop the pile of blankets, bandaged from where blood had been let. The air in the room was warm, kind of stuffy and smelling of herbs. "Is it contagious?" he asked when he could think of nothing else.

His mother shook her head. "All healers have assured us it's not catching. He just seemed to be wasting away," she said. She sniffed and blinked away her tears. "But they seem to have stalled the illness and are hopeful that he'll recover."

"Can I talk to him?" Theo asked nervously. "Can he hear me?"

"He's resting, but it's good to let him know you're here," she said with a loving, haggard look that said she'd been by Gavriel's side for a long while. Theo realized she had lines around her eyes and her hair was graying at the temples. A few flyaway hairs had escaped from her bun. She looked careworn. Hopeful, but sad.

She left him alone with his brother, and Theo took a seat at the bedside. Gave opened his eyes and flashed Theo a hint of a smile. "She gone?" Theo nodded. "I was getting tired of faking being asleep," Gave said. He had trouble keeping his eyes open.

"Everything's a joke to you," Theo accused, but he was smiling, grateful that Gavriel still seemed to be himself in spite of his illness.

"Gotta laugh. Otherwise I'd cry," Gavriel said. "Tell me about your trip."

Dusk fell and Theo kept talking. Gavriel had a way of listening to him, and it just felt good to be listened to—even after his brother drifted off to sleep. A servant rapped lightly on the door and motioned for Theo to leave as another round of healers came in. Theo stood and rested his hand on Gavriel's arm. "I'm glad you didn't die," he whispered.

And he was; but there was still the small, bitter part of him that wondered what would have happened if his brother had died, and his family had actually needed him.