Half-Demon's Fortune

by Lina J. Potter

  Innis pulling out a brightly-colored ball and beckoning me to follow. “Alex, let’s play for a bit! Come on!” Inside the palisade, we are quickly noticed, and a crowd of children joins us, laughing, running around, and playing. The noise is unbelievable, and Innis laughs as well—and I laugh with her.

  Warmth and peace. Is that what happiness feels like?

  Innis comforting Auntie Madie.

  Innis lecturing Tyrimma.

  Innis.

  Pain.

  Thank the Bright Saint I was alone. That was something I had to go through, sooner or later. Nobody saw the King of Radenor and the Regent of Riolon writhing on the ground, biting the folds of his cloak and trying not to sob aloud.

  Really, even getting hit with an exorcism spell was better. Blood dripped from the lip I had bitten through, and the traces of claws were left on the ground, as I had lost a measure of control.

  Still, after two hours, as I left that place, I felt a little bit better. No matter how hard I had tried to lock those thoughts and feelings away, they were a part of me, and in the end, I had to let go.

  Live, Innis.

  Live and be happy.

  ***

  I lost myself in work. Two days after being introduced to the people, I learned that a certain Lintor, Baron of Temilen, was dying to see me. For a few seconds, I contemplated killing him. He knew that I was a necromancer and could become a problem, so that was the simplest solution.

  The man was only saved by the vestiges of humanity left in me. Or was it my demonic part? After all, I could always kill him—but until then, he might be of use. He wasn’t stupid and I would have to watch the people I would appoint anyway. The palace ghosts would handle some of it, true, but...

  And thus, Lintor got an audience. He bowed as he entered.

  “Your Majesty.”

  “I don’t think you were as respectful during our last meeting, Baron.”

  It was a test, one of many...but Lintor looked at me, surprised.

  “A meeting? Your Majesty, I can swear by my family’s coat of arms that I’ve never met you before.”

  “Oh really?” I said, my eyes squinted. “And how many coats of arms can you spare?”

  “Your Majesty, I would never dare to lie to you. I was never allowed in the presence of a royal person...”

  “Yes. And Alex de...”

  “Belient? He’s just an ordinary nobleman from Tevarr,” Lintor got my implication. “Lots of folk like him...”

  “Just like him?”

  “Nobles, I mean. Your Majesty...”

  I raised my hand, and Lintor fell silent, obeying me.

  “I understood you, Baron Temilen. You like your life and your position, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  I nodded toward the chair.

  “I suggest you get comfortable, Baron. You and I are going to have a long conversation.”

  Lintor gave me a knowing nod. Oh, he really was no fool, that one. But maybe that was for the best.

  Of course, I was going to leave ghost spies in the palace, but that was only one network. The second would consist of people, and often, they were more reliable.

  Nobody ever thought that ghosts had their own likes and dislikes. Could you imagine ordering a grandfather to spy on his grandson? What would he tell you? It was better to be on the safe side.

  There would also be a third network, spies, but that was a long-term project. In the meantime, I poured wine into glasses, the picture of a gracious host.

  I even sniffed it, checking for poison. No, it was fine. Poisoning me would wait until the reforms started. The day before, however, I had detected a charm potion in the wine; ladies wasted no time getting to me. After all, my wife was far away, and they were close—and oh so pretty. The king was bound to give in.

  We had a peaceful talk about this and that, about the city guard being underfunded and understaffed, about the mages who were sometimes really needed, but the Church forbade hiring them....

  I assured Lintor that despite the Church’s protests, it wouldn’t go as far as to prevent the guards from using them. The servitors would cry foul and yell about lost souls, but that was it.

  And at last, we arrived at a mutually beneficial agreement. I would reorganize the city guard and create a single system, set up reporting, financing, and other stuff, while Lintor, on top of his main job, would collect information.

  Really, the guard station was just the place where rumors and gossip ended up, and it would be perfect for my goals.

  Lintor kept quiet about Andago, for which I was especially grateful. He was smart enough to realize that I had visited Riola for a reason and probably had guessed the cause of the mysterious deaths in the royal family.

  Was he holding a grudge? I couldn’t tell for certain.

  If he tried to avenge them, I would destroy him. If he worked for me, I would reward him.

  And I would assign a ghost to look after him, maybe even two. There were bound to be a few suitable spirits in the graveyard who would hate both Lintor and each other. I would forbid them from doing any harm, but let them write reports as much as they pleased. Well, fine, tell reports, it’s not like ghosts could write.

  Lintor left me content, but that night, sleep wouldn’t come. I stared at the ceiling and moped.

  Longing, such a nasty feeling.

  ***

  “By the Bright Saint!”

  Auntie Madie stared at the floor of Innis’ room in shock.

  “What’s that, sweetie?”

  Innis followed her gaze and saw claw marks and traces of blood.

  “Alex...”

  “Alex?” But...

  “He was here, I’m sure!”

  Innis opened her arms, as if ready to embrace the world, and started spinning around the room.

  “Auntie Madie, it’s him!”

  “Innis, my girl, but—”

  Innis flung her arms around Madie’s neck.

  “Auntie, he’s HERE! And I’m going to find him! Ah, too bad we’re not in Andago!”

  In Andago, she could question Tidann, who wouldn’t be able to weasel out of it.

  The next day, Innis went to visit the only person who could help her—Baron Lintor Temilen.

  ***

  I was set to return home in four days. We received some worrying news from Radenor: some suspected me of murdering Dariola—and even my own child.

  Martha told me that Rickie was a hearty eater, almost never cried, and was growing like a weed. That was nice to know, but still—how would I show him to people? An illusion spell?

  I did have some amulets, true, but even they had their limits. Mages, witches, warlocks—all of them had a hard time influencing a lot of people at the same time. If a crowd ganged up on them, they could be run down and overwhelmed. Actually, that crowd wouldn’t even need to be especially large. It’s just that their magic wasn’t effective against a mob.

  I could also switch my son for some other child. I wouldn’t need to place him on the throne, so I tasked Martha with finding a suitable boy, maybe even an orphan. They could even adopt him so he would grow with Rickie in Torrin. Until Rickie turned three, I would show that boy to the people, and then, we would have to see. It would be better by far for an orphan to grow up in Torrin as a friend of the future king, wouldn’t it?

  All in all, I had gotten lucky. I had a wonderful childhood: mountains, the sea, loving parents—even more than many children got, even if they weren’t my blood relatives—necromancy, books, training...

  What would my child get? The palace? Honeyed speeches of court toadies? Schemes and intrigues behind every corner? Go to Argadon! The child should be raised in peace, love, and quiet—even a demonic child! Therefore, Torrin was the only way. As for the court pigs, let them hiss. It wasn’t my problem if they didn’t like something.

  It would be safer, too. Little Rick was my only child. I had no desire to make another one, even if I eventually allowed someone into m
y bed.

  I wanted children with Innis; black-haired and dark-eyed like herself, proud of their heritage—and I wanted to be proud of them. And inexplicably, I felt that Innis would have accepted my son. Was I idealizing her because I loved her? I didn’t know. Maybe. It didn’t matter anyway. I would never see her again, and that meant that I could dream: about her eyes, her lips, her body...

  Stop!

  As a young and healthy male, thoughts of that kind triggered a certain...reaction. I snapped out of it and rolled onto my stomach to get rid of it.

  Just four days. After that, it would be Radenor, work, and no Innis. After all, a king was married to his kingdom and I had always known that.

  ***

  “Innis! I’m truly happy to see you!”

  Lintor really was happy. Innis rewarded him with a smile.

  “I’m happy to see you as well. That said, I have to admit that there is a reason for my visit.”

  “Something wrong, Countess?”

  “I’m not a countess yet, which is actually the problem, Milord.”

  “Really?”

  “His Majesty hasn’t recognized me as an adult, and my plea hasn’t received a reply. That’s why I had to come to the capital.”

  “His Majesty...”

  Innis give Lintor a puzzled look.

  “Innis, do you know that...”

  “That we’re currently under Radenor’s rule?”

  “Yes.”

  “I heard it on the way to the capital. If I understood it correctly, His Majesty is dead, His Highness is missing, and Princess Dariola is married, which means that her children have a right to the throne.”

  “As does Prince Dimalt.”

  Innis snorted.

  People didn’t speak openly about madness in the royal family, but it was a well-known fact. Lintor nodded in agreement.

  “His Majesty Alexander Leonard Radenor threatened to declare war against us unless Princess Dariola’s child is acknowledged as the king, so...”

  Innis understood it. Riolon wouldn’t survive a war, if for no other reason than lack of a good military leader or a single commander, not a bunch of court swindlers who all hog the blankets. After all, too many cooks spoil the broth. In this case, the cooks also stole from the treasury.

  And then, Radenor is a mage. Who knew what they were capable of?

  Innis voiced her thoughts and got a weird look from Lintor.

  “A mage...probably yes. Innis, do you just need to be recognized as Countess Andago?”

  “I would like that, yes. Or at least for the title to be passed to my son, with me as his regent until he turns twenty.”

  A sly look appeared on Lintor’s face.

  “Excuse the old man...but if you’re talking about children, is there already a candidate for the role of their father?”

  “Old man? Please,” Innis said with a sigh. “No, I don’t want children yet, but sooner or later, I’ll have to.”

  “What about your cousin, Innis?”

  “Alex?”

  “I thought he loved you.”

  “I used to think the same.”

  “Then I don’t get it. How could he leave such a girl alone?”

  If Innis didn’t feel so miserable, she would have kept silence, but...

  “He had no choice. That’s what he said. However... Lintor, have you seen him?”

  “Me!”

  “I’m sure he’s in the city, I just don’t know where!”

  “Err...”

  “You’re the commander of the city guard. He must have visited you!”

  “No, he hasn’t visited me, I’m sure of it. Innis, but why did he have to go?”

  That made Innis pause. Still, she kept on.

  “He said he had no choice.”

  “Is he married?”

  “N-no. He said he wasn’t.”

  Lintor considered that and nodded.

  “Innis, I’ve been invited to see the king tomorrow. Could you maybe accompany me and personally petition him?”

  “You’re a true friend, Lintor.”

  Soon, she left, and Lintor produced a bottle of strong wine from his desk, drank a glass in one shot, and stared at the wall.

  He really hoped that he wouldn’t get killed...twenty times or so.

  ***

  “Innis, you’re going to the palace! To see the king himself!”

  The show lasted for two hours and Innis obediently suffered through it.

  Her hair was set in an elegant updo and she was wearing a splendid dress made of dark blue silk with a light scarf on her shoulders.

  She adamantly refused to wear make-up, however. She was no strumpet! She might be visiting the palace, but nobody said she had to be painted like a church wall!

  Lintor arrived right on time.

  “Innis, you look magnificent!”

  Innis curtsied coyly.

  She did look great, though. The deep vibrant color of her clothes accentuated her white skin, her sapphire earrings—a family heirloom—shined with bluish sparks, and the only ring on her hand indicated her position, as it was her family’s coat of arms, made to fit Ritanna Andago’s hand. Her daughter’s fingers were just as thin.

  The only good thing her father had done in his life was not give her his looks; Innis had managed to avoid fat fingers and short legs.

  Yes, Sidon Andago...

  With an effort of will, she pushed that thought away. He was in an asylum now, and that’s where he would stay forever.

  She felt no pity for him. He had done enough bad things in his life. Innis might not have been the one to judge him, but she also wasn’t the one to pay for the harm he had inflicted. If he hadn’t killed her uncle, if he had noticed that her mother had been hexed, if...

  Enough.

  Innis raised her head.

  “Let’s go, Lintor.”

  “May I offer you my arm, Countess?”

  Innis took his arm into hers.

  “Lintor, do tell me what’s what, please. I’ve never been in the palace, and I’ve certainly never had an audience with the king himself.”

  “Oh, you’re going to like it. I think.”

  “I doubt it. How does it work?”

  “I can bring any person with me. His Majesty is in the small hall right now, accepting petitions from his subjects.”

  “Petitions?”

  “Umm...the people are trying to prove they’ll be of use...”

  Innis nodded. She got it. Nobody wanted to lose a cushy station, a position at court...

  His Majesty probably wouldn’t live in Riola, maybe only visit sometimes, so they were hoping for their pampered bliss to continue.

  Lost in thought, Innis didn’t even notice Lintor moving his lips.

  He was praying for luck.

  ***

  I was sitting and listening to parasites, snivelers, and toadies.

  Palaces were their usual feeding ground. What they needed was a visit from the King of Rats. I contemplated summoning him, but no. I didn’t really have a choice.

  Every ten days, it was the same, both there and at home: two days for the court, if anybody wanted the king’s justice; two days for petitions; two days for fun; two days for paperwork, that is, state affairs; two for the troops.

  At least, that’s how it was officially. Rudolph, for example, just partied all the time, while my late father-in-law in Riolon had a more serious approach. Therefore, until my departure, I had to show everyone that things would continue as they were.

  They would present their petitions to the person I would appoint and ask them for a fair trial. At home, I bore that burden myself. What else could I do? I was the king. I was responsible for the people, and everyone in the kingdom needed to be sure that they could appeal to the king for help with their problems.

  Yes, I could be nice. I also could punish—but I punished fairly, by virtue of the law, as it was a force even above me. With power came responsibility.

  The doors opened once
again.

  People, faces, papers...and it would last until the day I died.

  “Baron Temilen!” the servant declared. “And his companion.”

  And that was all I could see because the woman next to the baron was Innis.

  That dark-haired, gorgeous girl in a dark blue dress, sad and wistful—there was no mistaking. It was Innis...she was looking right at me.

  One step forward.

  A shocked expression on her pretty face.

  Second step.

  Recognition.

  Third step.

  Confusion.

  Fourth step.

  Realization.

  And pain blossomed on her beautiful face, twisting it.

  Lintor, you bastard, I’ll tear you apart!

  I looked over the hall.

  Should I hide? Flee? Disappear? I’d trade a kingdom for a trapdoor I could fall into!

  It was too late for that. Far too late.

  Innis straightened her back, as if hit with a whip, looked right into my eyes, defiant...and curtsied.

  “Your Majesty...”

  So much passion in her dark eyes. Pain, anger, hurt, scorn... I gasped as if somebody had kicked me in the stomach.

  I couldn’t even fall on my knees before her. I had a duty to my country.

  Who was the one to give the kings that obligation? Who? And what have I done to deserve that?

  But I knew the answer.

  Rudolph, his children and his wife, Lavinia, those whose bodies I had stepped over on my path to the throne...

  Her slender hand slightly shaking, she handed me a scroll, the same silent question in her eyes. I accepted her petition without a word, too scared I would fail to keep my voice in check.

  Lintor stayed next to her, pale as death itself. He must have known. He must have guessed.

  I unfolded the scroll and tried to read it.

  Innis Andago is asking to become recognized as a countess due to her being the last in line.

  I reached out and the secretary put a quill in my hand. Everybody was quiet, realizing that something strange was happening. But what exactly?

  I added my signature.

  “I accept your motion, Countess Andago.”

  My voice almost didn’t tremble.