"What the fuck..?" Dumar asked, looking about at the empty room.
Grethron had turned and sat, staring at Vilt with a mixture of wonder and excitement on his face.
"It cannot be…" He muttered. "Yet there is no other…" He added, musing to himself. "Vilt, who are you and where did you come from?"
Their argument forgotten, Dumar listened as Vilt related the story he had told Dumar before.
"And you can remember nothing else?" Grethron pressed gently.
"No, highness," Vilt said formally. "May I ask why?"
Grethron sat back in the chair he had chosen, settling himself as he explained.
"A few hundred years ago there was a race of people known colloquially as Screamers. Generally they were bards, poets and troubadours.
"Travelling singers for the most part but they had special abilities as well. Certain Screamers could actually use their voices to affect others' emotions or mood.
"Then there were a select few who could actually manifest their voice into physical force, using it as a weapon."
"You think Vilt's one of them?" Dumar asked.
"I really ought to have realised sooner," Grethron said. "Your singing ability is second to none, moving people to tears. Yet that just now, that was something entirely different. Have you done anything like it before?"
"I do not think so, highness," Vilt said, obviously ill at ease.
"What were you feeling at the time?" Grethron asked.
Vilt looked down, embarrassed at being spoken to by someone he now knew to be royalty.
"Vilt?" The necromancer nudged.
"I-I-I was frightened," Vilt stammered. "You were fighting and…" He glanced to see their reaction but carried on. "So I was scared and frustrated and...angry too, for some reason."
Grethron and Dumar remained silent as the youth spoke, sensing this was difficult for him.
"And when you shouted, did you feel anything then?" Grethron asked when Vilt had finished.
"I felt...it felt as if something left me. A-a pressure I did not know was there until I shouted. It was strange," he finished.
"And this has never happened before?" Grethron persisted.
"No," Vilt said. "What do you think this means?"
"I think it means you are a Screamer," Grethron said simply. "Yet one with the rarest of powers. "Did your parents never tell you any of this?" He asked.
Dumar winced inwardly, knowing his story.
"I do not recall them," Vilt said sadly. "I was orphaned."
Realisation hit Dumar.
"We share a bond, then," he said.
Vilt looked perplexed.
"Neither of us know our parents," Dumar explained.
"I am sorry," Grethron said. "For both of you." He paused and added. "I actually came to tell you there is to be a ball in your honour, Dumar."
"What? Why?" Dumar asked in concern. "I thought we were off to kill your bro soon.."
"My sister-in-law has decided to postpone that in favour of this gathering," Grethron said. "Against my advice," he added sourly.
"No, I'm not doing that," Dumar said as worry gnawed at his insides.
"It is a Royal decree, Dumar, for a citizen to refuse is unthinkable," Grethron said.
"Luckily for me I'm not a citizen then," Dumar stated. "I thought we were supposed to be keeping me a secret," he added.
"Little chance of that now," Grethron said. "Thousands saw you kill the Dal and thousands more now know of it and you," he explained. "Like it or not, you are famous, Dumar."
"And if Malthrom has spies here, he knows as well," Dumar stated. "I like an element of surprise," he added.
"That cannot be helped now," Grethron said. "Have you not noticed the new penchant for green? Fultard told me there is not a scrap of green fabric to be had in the city," the old man smiled.
"Why?" Dumar asked.
"To honour you," Grethron said. "The people here love you, Dumar. You are their hero for killing the Dal, the creature that took their king," he said. "And my brother. It killed fifteen people and injured more than a hundred the other day but people are asking how many more would have died if you had not killed it."
"I didn't do it for honours or balls," Dumar said. "Or the love of some people I don't know."
"No, you did it as it was the right thing to do," Grethron said quietly. "Despite your vow not to kill, you saw good people dying and acted in their defence. That means everything to some people."
Dumar sat back in the chair and wondered.
I can't change the past. I'll never meet my mum. But the people here love me? When did I accept I was really in another world? And when did I start caring about them?
Dumar could not pinpoint the exact moment, realising it had been a slow and gradual process over a few weeks. He shrugged mentally and came back to the present.
"I can't dance," he said.
"No one cares," Grethron told him. "You could lay on the floor and flop like a landed fish and they would fawn over you."
"I'm going to hate this," he said, watching Vilt laugh.
"So. I have some research to do," Grethron said, standing. "Ah, Dumar," he clapped his hand to his forehead. "The princess wishes to see you."
"Me?" Dumar asked, his stomach clenching.
"She said you would know where to find her," the necromancer added with a shrug.
Grethron turned to leave as Dumar began stowing his things in the backpack he always carried.
"What are you up to?" Dumar asked Vilt.
"I'm not off to meet a princess," the youth said with a smirk.
"You," Dumar pointed at him. "Don't need to worry about women. I've seen how they look at you, all heaving chests and doe eyes when you sing.
"There's no reason you couldn't have a different one in your bed every night if you wanted. Some of the men too, he added.
"Dough eyes?" Vilt asked in confusion. "Like bread?"
"No," Dumar said with a chuckle. "It's the female of an animal back on Earth, big, brown, trusting eyes filled with love and devotion."
"No one looks at me that way," Vilt said. "Do they?"
"Look about at your audience," Dumar said. "They are just about on the verge of grabbing you there and then.
Vilt blushed and turned his head.
"Right, well I suppose I shouldn't keep a princess waiting, eh?" Dumar asked as he left the suite, heading for the abandoned garden.
Servants deferred to him as he walked, bowing heads and stepping aside as they had not done before, some of the women and even a few men, blushing as he passed.
Guards snapped to attention and saluted as he passed, none of them following him any longer.
He also noted the prevalence of green in the clothing of the higher subjects. Visitors and merchants that had business in the palace had either had green clothes made or added touches of green to their existing outfits.
Dumar smiled at the odd ways they had here but had to admit it was flattering.
He turned down a dusty hallway, the air filled with particles alongside a lighter scent he did not recognise and opened the door to the abandoned garden.
Sun bathed him as he stepped out, the warmth pleasant on his skin.
The garden itself remained untouched, the bushes and shrubbery unkempt and overgrown, weeds clogging beds and pots.
Yet Dumar liked the fact it had been abandoned, other gardens he had been walked round by various people had been rigidly trimmed, regimented and kept immaculately. This area had been left to grow as nature intended and was all the more pleasant for it.
He headed for the bench where Alystra had been before and found her there, one hand gripping the carved stone bench on either side of her as she rocked gently back and forth.
Her shock of copper hair had been brushed until it shone, oiled and curled gently, to hang about her ears. Her pale skin was flushed pleasantly by the heat and Dumar noticed she wore a simple dress rather than the leathers she had worn before.
Cream with green foliage, yellow and pink flowers and cut to mid calf, it hugged her body tightly, making something ache and clench inside Dumar when he saw her.
"Highness," he said.
"Dumar!" Alystra cried looking up in surprise.
"Sorry, weren't you expecting me?"
"Yes, it is just...your approach was silent," Alystra said. "You startled me."
"Oh, sorry," Dumar said, sitting a few inches from her. "Force of habit. You wanted to see me?" He asked after a few seconds' silence.
"Yes," Alystra said.
"And?" Dumar asked after a few more seconds.
Alystra turned, a flash of shock, desire and need exploding inside Dumar as he stared into her eyes. Green-blue as the sea on a sunny day, her eyes captivated him and held his attention.
She's been looking at me for weeks, what's different this time? Dumar wondered as he looked at her.
"I...am unsure where to begin," the princess said nervously. "When the Dal…" she trailed off, swallowing. "When it took my father, something broke within me. My feelings, my emotions were taken or locked away," Dumar nodded and she continued.
"Now you have slain the beast, it seems my feelings have returned and I am struggling to make sense of them. I know what I am feeling as I am able to feel them from others but I do not know why I am feeling them. It is perplexing and frustrating."
"Okay…" Dumar drew the word out. "And you wanted to tell me this because I'm such a good listener? Or because I wear my heart on my sleeve?" He asked with a smile.
"This is probably something you should talk to with your mum. I'm not anyone to ask about emotions or feelings."
"I spoke to mother," Alystra said. "She advised me to seek you out as it is my feelings towards you I am confused over."