The Butterfly Effect

“Why do I have to go?”

It was a question he used to ask several times a year, whenever Dimas or Imre would announce their plans… usually only a day or two before sending him off.

“We need to do something here,” was always the gist of their answer, “and Zofie agreed to watch over you.” Eventually they were able to add “She’ll be able to teach you magic.” to sway him into compliance.

“If I have to go, then why does Tavin get to stay?”

“He’ll be with the Stones.”

He knew they were lying—Tavin said himself that he still stayed at the castle most of the time. They dodged the question when Natheniel tried to point it out to them.

After a while, he stopped asking because he knew he wouldn’t be given any better of an answer. Hearing the news this time didn’t phase him; it was what else they said that got a reaction out of him.

“Why’s Tavin going?”

“We’re all going,” Imre had explained. He glanced at Dimas before saying anything else. “We have some things we need to discuss with Zofie and it’ll be easier if we do it in person.”

“Besides, Tavin hasn’t met Philyra yet,” Dimas added. “It’ll give you all some time to talk.”

It was always a long ride, between the week spent traveling and his only entertainment being schoolwork or staring out the window. Having Tavin with him the whole time made it worse—his presence alone suggested the need for some kind of defiance, his smart attitude and ways of taking up the spotlight (never mind the fact it was never intended) grating.

Natheniel regretted ever wishing Tavin would come with them. He quickly decided he’d rather his brother stay in Seothia, completely undisturbed, while he was bored along the whole trip to Qizar.

At least they were almost there now.

“Harps, pianos, violins… I don’t think there’s anything she can’t play,” Dimas mused, filling in the silence as they grew closer to the Qizarn capital. Natheniel wasn’t particularly listening, petting Ihu with one hand and holding his feather necklace in the other. “A sweet kid, though. I don’t think Zofie lets her out of her sight.”

“Kind of amusing, isn’t it? The musical talent of the children of Fleyw Bresh skipped right over you two.” Imre smiled a little.

Dimas kissed his cheek. “Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t marry me for my ability to play the piano.”

“It’s not like she’s doing anything with it,” Natheniel pointed out absently, choosing to ignore the last remark. “Only a couple of people can hear it if they aren’t in the castle. No one knows who it is, and she’s definitely not going to tell anyone.”

“Not everyone wants the attention of a thousand people at once.” Tavin didn’t look at him, instead staring out the window and watching the world move past them. “Aunt Zofie is smart for hiding her from that attention. She’s too young to properly handle it.”

“She plays the part, though,” Natheniel mumbled. “She knows she’s better than everyone else—she doesn’t need a bunch of people fawning over her when her mother showers her with attention.” He fully believed his words to be true: he never considered the circumstances for such actions, or what had happened before any of them were born, or even the role the princess played now. To him, it shouldn’t matter.

He was saved from the inevitable hour-long explanation from Dimas—or at least for the time being—when the carriage stopped. He knew the journey well enough to know that this was their final stop; the looming shadow showed that the castle was right in front of them. Without looking, he could tell that the two subjects of conversation were waiting by the door to greet them like they almost always were.

Out of respect for the adults, Natheniel didn’t get out until both Imre and Dimas did. He got out before Tavin even got up, though still politely stayed behind their fathers. Everyone but Natheniel offered a bow.

Zofie glared at him but it had long lost its effectiveness against him. She then looked at the guard by her side. “Thero, can you and Philyra show the boys around? I’ll be in the garden if you need anything.”

“Of course.” With his promise, the three rulers walked inside.

Philyra looked between her cousins but made it obvious which one she had no interest in seeing. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Tavin,” she said breezily.

Tavin returned her gesture with a smile. “Agreed.”

Then there was Natheniel, who proved to show no sense of reading the room at all. Or rather, he chose not to. So in a tone so nonchalant all three of them stared at him, he asked, “So when do you think Zofie’s gonna be done? I’d rather be learning magic than hanging out with you two.”

With Tavin’s sighed response of, “The world doesn’t revolve around you, dreamer.” and Philyra’s blunt-and-obvious answer, “Mother has a lot more important things to do than spend her time with you.” they might as well have said the same thing. No wonder they ended up getting along.

If it had been just the brothers, Natheniel would have said “You’re just jealous because you can’t use magic,” but this wasn’t just his step-brother. There was also Philyra, princess of Qizar and a child of Fleyw Bresh—they all had natural magic. So instead, he just looked at them, as if they were the ones at fault and not him.

Philyra gestured to the castle behind her. “Should we get going?” Hearing Ihu’s little chirp and seeing the bird settling on Natheniel’s shoulder, she added, “Please keep your bird to yourself. I will get Uncle Thero to show it to where it's supposed to live: outside.” With that, she turned around and led the way inside.

“Do I have to come?” Natheniel moaned as soon as they got started.

“Her Majesty said to bring you with us,” Thero replied impartially. “I’m just following her orders.”

“Why do we need a dumb tour anyway? This isn’t like Seothia. It’s pretty straightforward.”

“Prince Tavin hasn’t been here before.”

“So? Let him figure it out on his own.”

Tavin’s nudge meant nothing to Natheniel. Philyra simply chose to ignore them all.

He went to his room as soon as they passed it. He’d heard Philyra take Tavin to the music room but Natheniel didn’t care. He considered having her attention being more like a curse than any sort of blessing.

Dinner came and went, then the activity he’d actually been waiting for came a couple minutes after he’d gone back to his room. It was only a brief knock on the door, followed by Thero’s gruff voice saying, “Change your clothes, grab your brush, and meet Her Majesty in the garden.”

He did as instructed immediately, along with getting a bit of paper and ink; he’d need them and the brush to practice drawing runes. If he had it now, he wouldn’t need to wait for a guard to get it. That meant they had more time to work.

Zofie never looked interested to be there—the whole thing was something she only did because Dimas asked her to. She wasn’t even any more impressed to see that he brought more than what he’d been asked, instead just giving him a curt nod and gesturing to the open area in front of her.

To show his respect for his teacher as she had drilled in his head a few years prior, he put his hands together and bowed, solemnly uttering the greeting in the Old Tongue, “Teach me well, Madam Zofie.”

“So long as you listen,” Zofie responded, much more fluent despite the unfamiliar language. She paused, and continued normally, “You’re trying really hard to impress me, aren’t you?”

“If I don’t impress you, then you’re not gonna let me do anything fun,” he pointed out honestly. He didn’t see a purpose in trying to hide the truth. At least she could give him credit for his motivation to learn it.

“Were it up to me, you’d be in school right about now like any other Seothian,” she sighed. “You know I didn’t doubt Dimas when he told me you asked Tavin for the answers to everything.” It wasn’t a comment he paid attention to, only really listening for her next instructions. “Go and stand somewhere where you won’t break anything. Recite what I taught you before.”

He nodded and backed away a little, far enough that he would’ve considered safe. “Tha vro to skotádi sto fos.” There was, if only a little, a reaction to his words. A black dot appeared in front of him and then disappeared again.

“And you’re still feeling fine?” She said it out of Dimas and Imre’s well-being, not his; she only cared for him because they did.

“Same as usual,” he confirmed.

Dimas made sure Natheniel understood why she asked. The kind of magic she taught him was powerful and dangerous; Zofie would be dead by it if she hadn’t lost her magic.

“There’s really no denying it, is there?” she mumbled. “You don’t experience it. You really must be one of them…”