The one on the right spoke first. “I apologize for our behavior, miss. My brother and I were just having a friendly debate regarding the possession of that figurine. Would you mind giving it back, please?” He grinned in a way that alarmed her, mostly because he appeared sincere. The other twin scowled, whether at her or his brother, she wasn’t sure.
Sister Vanesse called out a few words in Elsiran and that’s when Zeli realized that the boy had been speaking in Lagrimari. When they turned to answer the Sister, Zeli peered at their profiles more closely. The only way an Elsiran could speak Lagrimari was if… Well, she’d never heard of anyone except the king being able to do so. But Sister Vanesse was the queen’s aunt and the resemblance between her and the twins made Zeli stumble backward a step.
These were the queen’s brothers.
Mortified, Zeli dropped her head and held out her hand, palm open with the figurine presented. She kept her gaze on the ground as shame coated her skin. She would have never whistled at them like that if she’d known that these were the princes.
She was such an idiot. How could she not have known? She’d never seen them before, but had heard they were twins—there was no excuse. All her dreams of rising through the ranks flashed before her eyes, and she wondered what her punishment would be. Sister Vanesse was well-respected within the Sisterhood and had witnessed the whole thing. Certainly word would get back to the High Priestess about Zeli’s indiscretion.
“Excuse me, Your Graces, I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice thick.
“Oh, now, none of that,” the one on the right said as she stared at his boots—which were scuffed and worn. “Maybe you should keep it, after all. Obviously we can’t be entrusted with it.” His hand enfolded her own, closing her fingers over the trinket.
She looked up, breath stuttering, to find him grinning in that welcoming way he had. Why did she find it so unsettling? The other one was still scowling, but shrugged when she looked his way.
“I’m Varten ol-Sarifor,” said the cheery twin, “and this is my brother, Roshon.”
Zeli looked down again to where their hands still touched. “Tarazeli ul-Matigor. Um, Zeli, Your Grace.”
The scowling one, Roshon, groaned. “Please don’t call us that. Drives me crazy. And sounds strange in Lagrimari.”
She looked up to find him rolling his eyes. He was sort of rude and brusque, but that made more sense to her than Varten’s kindness. She finally pulled out of his grip, her hand giving off sparks from the connection. The little statuette was warm now, as if it had absorbed the heat from his body.
“Will you keep it safe for us?” Varten asked.
“What is it?” she whispered.
“It was our mother’s. Aunt Vanesse was telling us how Mama used to collect these things—it was some sort of fad when she was a teenager. Most of her collection was destroyed.” His face gave the first hint of anger at this. “But our aunt managed to save this one. She said it reminded her of us.” A grin slid across his face. “She failed to understand that you can’t give a pair of twinsoneof anything.” He chuckled, and to her amazement Roshon snorted in amusement as well.
Roshon said something rapidly to his aunt, who shook her head fondly. Sister Vanesse hugged both boys then gripped Zeli’s hand and smiled warmly at her.
Zeli blinked. “I-I won’t get in trouble for being rude to the princes, will I?”
Varten frowned and translated her question. To which Vanesse frowned—they really looked so much alike—and shook her head.
“No,” Varten responded. “If anything, we’ll get in trouble when Papa finds out we were fighting in the middle of the hallway.”
Vanesse squeezed Zeli’s hand again and then was off with a good-bye for them all. Once she was gone, Varten turned to her; she instinctively stepped back at the mischievous expression on his face. Now therealhim would come out, all of that blithe sunniness no doubt hid a character intent on punishing her for interfering.
She swallowed then nearly choked when he leaned down and hooked an arm around her shoulder, steering her toward a side hallway. “Zeli ul-Matigor, House of Bobcats? Nice.”
She shrugged against the weight of his arm. “I don’t know much about the old houses.”
“Neither do I, but it must mean you’ve got some fight in you. We should work out visiting hours for the figurine. Who do you think should get time with it first?”
Her lips curved into a smile in spite of herself. “Haven’t you two ever shared anything before?”
Varten tapped his chin and pretended to think it over. His brother loped alongside them and lifted a shoulder. “Only everything we’ve ever had,” Roshon muttered. He looked down at the chrome plated wristwatch on his wrist. Fancy. “I’ve got to go meet Ani now. Let me know what you decide.” With a small salute, he nodded in her direction and then took off at a jog back to the main corridor.
Something sad flashed on Varten’s face but it was gone almost too fast for her to be sure. His grin turned up a notch. “Now I’m not saying I expect any special treatment, but I would like to plead my case to claim the first time slot.”
But Zeli was too curious to let the subject change. “Who’s Ani?” she asked, watching him carefully.
The muscles in his face froze. “My brother’s fiancée. Lovely young lady. Saved our lives once.”
“Aren’t you all a bit young to get married?”
He straightened, letting his arm fall away as that position required him to bend over to her diminutive height. Mock affront laced his voice. “We’re eighteen today as a matter of fact.”
