The Ancient Ones (The Legacy Trilogy Book 3) by Michael Foster

staring at me. It is strange you know. It’s not normal at all to behave the way you do. Has anyone told you that? I’m sure they have.’
    The magician ignored his complaints. ‘I am told of a disturbance last night.’
    ‘Truthseekers,’ Leopold said, swinging his feet out from under the bed-covers and straight into his waiting shoes.
    Lord Samuel took his time to digest Leopold’s reply, watching as the young Emperor pulled his clothes from the bedside table. His bag had finally been retrieved from the boat, and Leopold had a fresh change of familiar clothes to wear.
    ‘I heard there was trouble in my absence,’ the magician stated, looking to the window. ‘The guards tell me you left your room.’
    ‘I did,’ Leopold replied, and pulled his trousers over his underwear. He avoided the magician’s waiting gaze, those eyes unblinking, unnerving. ‘I didn’t know I was a prisoner.’
    ‘You are no prisoner, foolish boy. We are protecting you.’
    ‘I see our agreement has not lasted long.’ Leopold threw a hastily constructed look of annoyance the magician’s way. ‘You agreed not to call me that.’
    ‘There is more at stake here than your pride, Leopold. You would do well to remember that.’
    ‘You have no need to worry. The Truthseekers did not find me.’
    Lord Samuel grunted. ‘You are safe from them as long as you stay with me, but there are others who may wish to hurt you, fool boy. You are the Emperor of Turia now, and despite the world being in turmoil, I guarantee many would not want a return of the old Empire, and many would wish to seize your power. From now until the time you die, worry about your life. It is no longer yours to waste as you wish. It is a precious thing, with many fates riding upon it. You have to fight to keep it, so I suggest you put the odds in your favour and believe what I tell you, and do what I tell you to do!’
    The magician waited for a response that did not come. Leopold buttoned his shirt, his heart beating furiously, as he fought to maintain the illusion of calm. He knew his efforts were futile, and he felt that the magician could see his fearful heart pounding in his chest, as easily as if it were laid upon the table, fluttering naked on that polished timber.
    Without further word, Lord Samuel turned and quietly left the room.
     
    ****
     
    A pair of maids came to Leopold’s chamber to provide breakfast and another bath. They scrubbed him as his mother had not done in eight years or more—not since he came home covered in tar leaked from a barrel washed on the shore—and he had to sit and bear it, for they ignored his protests. They apologised that they had not taken better care of him the previous evening. The discovery of the murdered body had them locked away for most of the night.
    The matronly women fawned over him and asked countless questions, about everything he had been doing all these years, and they gasped as they heard of his simple life. Bafflement marred their faces whenever he mentioned his father.
    ‘We served your father for twenty years apiece,’ one of the women told him, ‘and we were there when he died. He was killed on the steps of the palace, while you were still inside your mother’s womb. We saw it from the palace windows.’
    Leopold shook his head. ‘I’ve been with my father all this time,’ he affirmed.
    He caught the first old maid passing a raised eyebrow to the second. ‘Well, he was a kind gent for looking after you. In these dark days, such gallantry is hard to come by.’
    Leopold was set to argue with them further, and realised it would be futile. He would ask Lord Samuel the moment he saw him. He had no patience for all this confusion. Murderous magician or not, he would find out what was going on.
    He let the women continue their work of bathing and dressing him in outlandish clothes. Protesting made no difference, and they washed him from head to toe, ignoring his pleas to see to some parts himself. When they