by Sever Bronny
The crowd murmured as the steward turned to Eric. “Any last words?”
Eric lifted his trembling chin to stare over the crowd. Royal banners snapped in the sharp wind. “Semperis vorto honos,” he proclaimed, and stepped off the walkway of his own volition.
Later, in Arinthia
Augum would never forget walking through the gate with a weeping Leera and Haylee as Eric swung overhead. He would forever remember the wail of the lonely wind, the way the snow crunched underfoot, the indifferent looks the overseers gave him, and the frightened expressions of gaunt Solian guards.
He, Leera and Haylee walked in solemn silence all the way back to the Steps of the Crescent Moon at the academy, then teleported to Arinthia. Augum appeared with Leera by the fountain in front of Castle Von Edgeworth, feeling revoltingly wretched. Leera collapsed in the snow with an anguished cry. Augum stood stupidly, exhausted and emotionally spent. Snow blew around in a blisteringly cold breeze, fogging their breath.
The silhouetted heads of servants appeared in the candlelit windows of his stolen ancestral castle. Four overseers dressed in heavy winter coats watched him from their post guarding the entrance to Castle Von Edgeworth. Even thinking the name made his blood boil.
He placed one arm under the crook of Leera’s knees and the other around her back and gently scooped her up, then plowed through the snow in a daze as Leera wept in his arms.
Katrina had cornered King Rupert, outmaneuvering him by using his own castle and family as leverage. The king couldn’t have pardoned Eric and cast him out, as such an act would have been wholly antithetical to The Path. And the king’s hold on the throne was already tenuous; he must have believed he would have lost it had he tried to save the prince. Even Eric’s own mother understood this—that’s why she hadn’t lifted a finger to save her own son. But whereas she refused to act so as to maintain a hold on power, the king did what he did to give Augum a chance to save the kingdom.
Augum had to believe that. He had to believe the king had sacrificed his own son not for being a wayward, but for what he saw as the best hope to wrest the kingdom back from the invaders, a hope that now depended on Augum’s shield. In his promise as an Arcaner. In his belief in himself. After all, Augum and the girls had saved the kingdom before …
Yet guilt that he hadn’t fought harder for Eric’s life ate away at Augum. But in his heart of hearts, he also knew that had he done anything rash, Leera would have paid the awful price.
The king’s demand boiled in Augum’s mind. I order you to prove your loyalty to this kingdom. And that now depended on bringing the Dreadnought armor into the academy … and finding a way to resurrect dragons.
“That you, Augum?” a boyish voice called.
Augum turned to see Devon, a fifteen-year-old Ordinary the trio had befriended in the war and who now worked for the night watch, totter over. He had a chubby face, chin-length copper hair and wore an ill-fitting winter coat over top his Arinthia guard livery.
Devon glanced at Leera, weeping in Augum’s arms. “Is … is everything all right?”
“Now’s a bad time, Devon. Stay away from me. I get people killed. Do you understand? I get people killed.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just that the countess commanded me to pass on an invitation to join them for the castle renaming ceremony.”
“I’d rather be impaled by a spear.”
“I know, but she said if I didn’t tell you, I’d ‘know what true suffering feels like.’ And … and that’s not all the news. Disciple Gritchards says women are not allowed out of the house without a male chaperone. He says the rule is already in place in the cities—is that true?”
The last thing Augum felt like was conversing and so he only nodded.
“Oh. So it means … it means Jez and Bridget and Leera and all the other women must at all times be escorted by a man. I can help, if you like. I can be a chaperone. But I can’t believe it’s happening, you know? When Gritchards said he was going to implement a new rule, I was like, ‘Oh, gods, now what? What do we do now?’ And then I was like, ‘But what will all the girls do? How’s that fair?’ But then I thought—”
“Devon …”
“Yes?”
“I can’t right now.” Augum was falling apart, and Devon seeing him that way made the shame all the worse. “I can’t—” he repeated, and stormed past a slack-jawed Devon, holding a crying Leera closer to his chest, almost wishing he had Katrina’s strength, her coldness. Then he could think clearly and decisively. Instead, his damned emotions got in the way, his glaring weaknesses laid bare for all to see.
He wondered if his beloved thought it was his fault that Eric was dead. He wondered if she blamed him like he blamed himself.
He burst through Haylee’s door. The sound of weeping came from upstairs. Charles, who had been sitting glumly at the table, rose upon Augum’s entrance. Two lone candles lit his drawn face.
“Forgive me, my lord,” he whispered. “Lady Tennyson just informed me of the fate of Prince Eric.” He looked at Leera but refused to look at Augum’s face. “Some tea. I’ll … I’ll brew some tea. Miss Tennyson is upstairs and most distraught. Billy is tending to her.”
Billy? Who in Sithesia is Billy? Augum wanted to ask, only to realize she was Haylee’s young Ordinary servant. Gods, he was so out of it.
He nodded dazedly and laid Leera down on the gilded settee. She turned over and buried her face into its plush upholstery.
“Sometimes, Charles, I don’t know what the hell I’m even doing,” he said, plopping down beside Leera, feeling like an old man. “I don’t even know if this kingdom wants to be saved.” He snorted. “Dragons. Nobody believes in dragons. And why would they? Why would they believe in such a stupid thing? Why would I believe in such a ridiculous children’s fancy?”
Charles filled an iron pot with water from a pitcher and placed it into the coals of the fire, which he prodded. The coals sparked and glowed brighter with each stir. “My lord, people might not believe in dragons, but they believe in Lady Burns and in Lady Jones.”
The wind rattled the windows and the candles wavered.
“And they believe in you, my lord. You wielded a scion and spoke with Dreadnoughts. You defended Castle Arinthian from the undead hordes. And you vanquished the Lord of the Legion. Forgive me, my lord, but not everything needs to be explained to everyone. Not everyone needs to know why you believe what you believe. You have dared to believe things others thought impossible. You have dared to make the impossible possible. No man alive has lived as you have, my lord. It is your actions that have made you a legend in the eyes of this kingdom, and they are why I shall serve you until my dying breath.”
Augum wanted to say something cynical. But he’d had enough of cynicism and sarcasm. He’d had enough of himself. And he was tired of making the wrong decisions, tired of taking unnecessary risks.
“You are a wise soul, Charles,” he whispered, and lay his head on Leera’s shoulder. Sir Pawsalot, who had been watching them from across the room, languidly strolled over, hopped onto the arm of the settee and then walked to the edge of its thick backrest, where he arranged himself into a cozy loaf just above Leera. She reached up and gently pulled him down. He protested with a quiet lip-smacked meow, only to curl up against her, purring quietly as she stroked him, her weeping easing.
Time passed and the wind outside quieted down. Charles brewed Solian pine tea and brought Augum and Leera two steaming cups, placing them on a nearby table. Then he stirred the hearth and kept silent. Augum was grateful. The gentle crackle of the fire was soothing. He wasn’t hungry but knew he should eat. Yet it had been such a long, trying day. A very long day. And thinking about it, his eyes felt heavy.
He was barely conscious of Charles placing a blanket over him and Leera as he drifted into a deep slumber.
* * *
A groggy Augum woke up to darkness. The only light came from the fire, now low in the hearth. Outside, the wind whistled as the house creaked and
groaned from its caress. Two cups of tea sat cold and untouched.
He untwined himself from Leera’s sleeping form and sat up. He pulled the blanket back over her and kissed her cheek, curling her limp hair behind her ear. Sir Pawsalot snoozed peacefully in her embrace.
But he and Leera weren’t alone. A dark silhouette sat at the table by the fire, holding a glass of wine.
Augum shuffled over and plopped into a chair on the opposite end. “What time is it?” he croaked, rubbing his face and eyes.
“Past the eighth evening bell,” Jez whispered, staring at glowing coals enveloped in gentle flames. A half-empty bottle of wine stood on the table.
“Everyone asleep?”
Jez nodded.
“Sorry I missed training.”
“And homework. And supper.”
As if on cue, Augum’s stomach groaned. “I know. I’m starved.”
“What did Mrs. Stone teach you about success?”
Augum swallowed. Jez was irritated. Great. “That it involves hard work.”
“Exactly.” But her words slurred, and she was swaying.
Augum winced. “Jez … are you drunk?”
Jez finished her glass of wine with a swig. “Of course I am.” She glared at Augum. “I attended their stupid naming ceremony. Castle Von Edgeworth. That’s got to sting, eh?”
Augum lowered his eyes.
“Got to hand it to them, food wasn’t bad. Better than the Legion’s, that much I’ll tell you.” She snorted. “And wow, they had a lot of high-degree warlocks about. The Von Edgeworths have quite the pull.” Then she watched him for a while before leaning forward. “Do you think I enjoy playing babysitter, Stone? Do you think I like being the spinster nanny minding a bunch of self-centered sixteen-year-olds? Hmm?” She flopped a hand about in the air. “There’re all sorts of grand adventures to be had. Bearded men to woo. Raucous taverns to frequent. No, instead I’m stuck here, struggling to fulfill a promise I made to your holier-than-thou great-grandmother.”
A pang ached in Augum’s chest. “You don’t mean that,” he whispered.
Jez narrowed her eyes at him in the darkness, hissing, “Oh, do you feel sorry for yourself? Is that what you’re doing there, Stone? Are you wallowing in self-pity? In a puddle of woe? You have no idea what it’s like to be alone anymore, do you? Do you even have the vaguest idea what it’s like to sit stagnant in a degree? I want my 18th, but it seems I’ve hit my ceiling. Do you know what that feels like? To study your damnedest, only to fail to grasp the full meaning of a spell? And I don’t even have the time to study my craft anymore because of …” She angrily flicked her hand at him. “Bah.”
Augum didn’t know what to say and so he sat there, numb.
“Don’t worry, I won’t abandon you sorry lot,” Jez spat, pouring another glass of wine. “I’ll fulfill my promise to your great-grandmother whether I—” She was about to take a sip, but froze. She examined the glass as if trying to comprehend how it got there, before setting it back down and sighing, then returned to staring at the fire.
Augum, starving but not wanting to make a fuss, got up and retrieved the scroll Haylee had prepared for him.
“Finally doing some homework, are we?”
“It’s not homework.”
“No? What is it, another glowing appraisal of your talents in the Youth Herald? Are you not tired of girls chasing you, Stone? Hmm? You need an extra dose of fawning?”
Augum plopped back down in his seat and glared at her as he unfurled the scroll.
“Kid’s got some fight in him yet,” Jez muttered. “But I suppose you aren’t a kid anymore, are you?”
Augum ignored her as he began reading. Unfortunately, the special Memorial Ceremony spell casting was complicated and required “deep emotional understanding,” whatever that meant. Further, it quickly became apparent that there was no way in Sithesia he could understand the scroll through the fog of anger and humiliation and anguish—not without Haylee’s help.
“The silent treatment, is it? Come on, read me a snippet. Go on, I want to hear what elaborate praise you’ve earned this time. What does that frivolous little teenage rag of a herald say about you these days? Hmm?”
“You want me to read a portion of this to you?”
“Egad, he speaks! Yes, Stone, I want to hear how spectacular you are. I want to hear the gushing praise, the fawning tributes, the pathetic teenage poetry.” She downed her glass of wine, sloppily refilled it, and folded her arms. “Go on then.”
“If you insist.”
“I do insist.” She watched from the darkness.
Augum tried to keep the scroll still in his angrily shaking hands while he read. “ ‘Augum, this part’s really important. When you at last face your former father in the flames of the memorial fire, you must start with the exact ancient poetic phrasing I stated above. But that’s only half of it. You will then have to explain in your own words why you renounced him, and then explain why you are choosing to accept him as your father once more. Now here’s the tricky part, Aug. You must mean it. The sacred fires will know. And I know that sounds hokey and all, but it’s a crucial component to the spell.’ ”
Jez unfolded her arms. “That’s not the Youth Herald.”
Augum put the scroll down and stared at her. “You think?”
“What is that, Stone?”
Augum continued to stare at her. “You really want to know?”
“Yes, I do.” And she sounded like she meant it. There was no edge to her voice, only curiosity—and perhaps regret. She pushed the glass of wine away. “I honestly do.”
“All right.” And he explained all about their trip to the arcaneologist, how it had cost him the entire castle bank loan to purchase the Oath Displacement scroll, and how the spell had worked but not really because he needed to accept his former father as his father again. And then, without prompting, he told her about what happened that day and how The Path was a total fraud and that the Canterrans were digging around the kingdom looking for something and how proud he was of Bridget and that he worried they’d return to the academy in the morning only to discover her gone and everyone under arrest and then he blubbered on about how he had recklessly led the charge to the Black Castle to convince the king to work with him and that instead Katrina had outed Eric as wayward and now Eric swung under the front gate alone and cold and dead the rope creaking in the damn wind—
“Stop.” Jez had a hand over her mouth, tears rolling down her cheeks and over her fingers. “Gods, stop.”
Augum stared at the scroll, voice glum. “I had been planning to learn this over supper with everyone, then I was going to ask you to cast the Memorial Ceremony spell. Thing is, one of the requirements is we have to perform the ceremony in a key location, one that is—” He unfurled the scroll. “ ‘—the most meaningful location with regards to the problem. The location that gets to the crux of the matter.’ ” He let the scroll curl back up. “But I can’t think of one because I can’t focus through the stupid—” He shut his mouth. He had said too much, exposed himself too bare.
Jez’s hand was still over her mouth. Suddenly she got up, strode over and drew him up into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry, Augum. I’m so sorry. I’m the worst person in Sithesia. I’m horrible.” She pulled back. “Damn it, you’re getting tall. A real man.” She sniffed hard and drew him into another hug. This time he reciprocated, squeezing her.
“And I’m tired of being reckless,” he whispered into her shoulder. “Tired of getting people killed.”
“I know you are, Stone, I know you are. You’ll learn the difference between a calculated risk and a reckless one. You will.” She let go and ruffled his hair. “But you’ll always be my little monkey. All of you. You know I love you all, right?”
He nodded, unable to look her in the eye.
“Aww, look at those handsome cheeks flush. Don’t be embarrassed. Dealing with feelings is something you’ll have to get used to as you grow older as a man—and I know
you’re a man, I do, just a foolish young man—otherwise you’ll end up sitting around a table at night drinking wine alone in the dark.” She shook his shoulders. “Don’t be like me, Stone. You got it? Don’t be a mean drunk. Don’t wallow in—” She pressed her eyes shut. “Gods I wallow in self-pity, don’t I?”
Augum tried not to smile. “Sometimes, I guess.”
“Ugh, I’m pathetic, aren’t I?” She jerked away from him. “Don’t answer that.” She wandered back to her chair and sat down, but didn’t touch her wine glass. Instead, she pushed it and the bottle farther away and indicated at his chair. “Go on and sit back down. Let’s have a heart-to-heart.”
Augum awkwardly sat down.
“Let’s talk about your feelings, Augum.”
Augum started to get up.
“Oh no you don’t—you sit right back down, mister.”
Augum sat back down. His hands fidgeted under the table.
Her chair squeaked as she leaned back. “What subjects are you studying these days in school?”
“You … you really don’t know?”
“Of course I do!” She waved her hand. “Just … refresh my memory.”
Augum automatically rattled them off. “History, Heraldry, Arithmetic, Written Word, Theory of Elemental Spellcraft, Theory of Standard Spellcraft, Arcane Element of Lightning, Sword and Sorcery, Survival, Military Strategy, Runes, and Arcane Army Combat.”
“That’s a war course load. But I guess that makes sense, doesn’t it, considering what you went through.”
“Guess so.”
“And which ones does that handsome bear of a man teach?”
Augum’s face twisted in revulsion, but he answered nonetheless. “Sword and Sorcery, Military Strategy, and Arcane Army Combat.”
She nodded along. “Think I should ask him out on a date?”
“What? No!”
She sighed longingly. “Guess you’d prefer me forever alone, wouldn’t you? An empty-hearted spinster forever at your beck and call.”
Augum echoed the sigh, feeling wretched. “I’d much prefer you didn’t date any of my teachers.” He let a moment pass. “But I guess I … can’t force you or anything.”
