by Jude Marquez
"Do you not feel it?" Alik whispered and when he looked up to Eamon instead of the waves that were beating against the side of the boat, he saw that Eamon had his eyes glued on Alik's chest.
"Of course I do. But this is not my first time riding into battle. It passes," Eamon said. "Breathe. Focus on something in your mind."
"Like what?" Alik whispered and he thought that the panic would choke him.
Eamon sighed. "I think of Lissandra painting. The colors. The sound of her brush against the canvas. The slow way a picture blooms beneath her hand."
Alik didn't have any of that. He didn't have anything to think of like that.
Unbidden, he remembered quite suddenly a night in their rooms. It was snowing outside and the castle was quiet. The fire crackled in the corner of their room and Eamon slept deeply beside him. They were warm and it was quiet and there was nothing but a reassuring serenity that everything would turn out just fine.
"What did you think of?" Eamon asked.
Alik opened his mouth to reply but instead he shook his head. "My mother," he lied.
Eamon nodded.
Then he was pulling them close and lashing their boat to the platform and then he stood, stepped onto the wooden structure with a grace and elegance that Alik couldn't help but envy. He held his hand out to Alik and helped him board as well.
Then, they turned to face Prince Raulyn.
Chapter 7
Eamon couldn't help but notice that the Prince was uncommonly beautiful in a way that would be defined as more feminine than anything. He recalled the stories that Lissandra would weave late at night of fairies and dragons and princesses who were better at fighting than any knight.
Raulyn looked like he had stepped out of one of her stories.
His eyes were gray like storm clouds and his cheekbones were high and proud. His eyebrows were dark while his hair, golden and long, braided in a way that was too much in the way of the Ataton style for Eamon to be comfortable with, was long. His mouth wasn't overly generous but was pink like a lady's would have been after they were painted.
His right eyebrow was pierced three times, his nose was pierced with a small ruby and his lip had a golden ring through the bottom left lip.
But he was young. He was painfully young, despite his brash demands and his poise. Eamon could still see the youth in his shoulders and hips, could see that despite the destruction he wrought, that he didn't know how to control it.
As they studied him, he studied both of them in turn. Raulyn's eyes lingered on the tattoos on display and something shifted in his eyes, something dark and twisted.
"King Eamon," he said and his voice was deeper than Eamon expected. He nodded at Eamon before turning to Alik. "King Alik. It's a pleasure to meet the two of you face to face."
"I suppose," Alik said softly.
Raulyn smiled, as though Alik had actually paid him a compliment.
"No, we are not here for pleasantries, are we?" Raulyn said.
"No," Alik replied.
"Does your husband speak?" Raulyn asked and his gaze slid from the tips of Eamon's boots to the crown on his head. "Or does he merely kill at your command? A dog on a leash."
"I would watch your tongue, boy," Alik said softly. "No one controls the king, least of all me. No one can stop him either. Do not tempt him or me."
Raulyn chuckled and nodded. "Of course. The warrior king, bested by my father's soldiers."
"After he was drugged and beaten, I would like to remind you. Would you like to see what he's like without chains and broken bones and drugs running through his veins?" Alik said, "One more insult, child, and I will step aside and let Eamon do as he pleases."
"So you do control him," Raulyn said and smirked.
"I serve to remind him of the people that we seek to save from you, nothing more." Alik said.
"Save from me?" Raulyn scoffed. "I have saved as many people as your husband has killed."
"Give us your demands, boy. We do not have time to waste on you," Eamon growled.
Alik twitched at the sound of his voice. It was more of a growl and even Raulyn's face gave away more than he probably realized.
"I have no demands," Raulyn replied but there was such a sly look on his face that Alik knew that it was a lie.
"Alik," Eamon muttered and Alik nodded and turned back to their boat.
Just as Eamon was about to step into the boat, Raulyn cleared his throat and said loudly, "But I thought you might like to know that your sister says hello."
"My sister?" Eamon said slowly and straightened up. Alik even turned so that he and Eamon were shoulder to shoulder, staring at Raulyn. "Please be more clear."
Alik thought of Lissandra and her frequent letters to Avelina. He wondered if they had been faked somehow, if she could have been kidnapped after leaving them.
"The Princess Avelina. She waits for me in our royal bedchamber," Raulyn replied and his smile grew.
Alik blinked at him and looked up at Eamon. He could feel the same relief in his chest that he read on Eamon's face, followed swiftly by incredulity and the fierce desire to laugh. Alik wanted to turn to the ship behind them and wave to his sister-in-law, safely aboard the ship, surrounded by guards.
"You have. Avelina?" Eamon choked out.
To anyone else it would have sounded like desperation or even horror, but Alik knew that none of that laced his words.
"Which is why I knew you would want to barter. Perhaps to save your sister," Raulyn raised a single shoulder in a casual gesture and winked, "Or perhaps not. The choice is yours. You bow to my wishes and your sister will be returned-"
For all the knowledge that Alik had of Eamon, he often forgot the speed of the man. His sheer size overshadowed nearly everything else and it was easy, purposefully too easy Alik realized, to understand how quickly Eamon could move from one spot to the other.
The platform shifted under the distribution of their weight and Eamon was suddenly on the opposite side, his hand around Raulyn's throat, the tips of the young man's boots barely touching the platform anymore.
"Your sister-" Raulyn tried to choke out before Eamon cut his words short.
"You halfwit. My people will remain loyal to me, now and through their lives and their children's lives. I don't know who you have in your bed, who you have forced yourself on night after night-" Eamon pulled Raulyn up and close to his own face.
"Eamon-" Alik hissed, as the platform rocked and the archers from Vresal took aim at them.
"But my sister is safe, guarded by the fiercest of all warriors," Eamon dropped Raulyn and stepped back.
The archers did not lower their bows.
"Are you so sure?" Raulyn said from his knees and coughed as he rubbed his throat. Then he laughed. "When was the last time you saw her?"
"Do you think he will answer you and tell you where she is? You play a child's game with a man who has fought more wars than years you have been on this earth," Alik snapped, overriding Eamon's instinct to tell Raulyn too much. Their eyes met and Eamon took a step away from Raulyn who remained on his knees. Eamon took pleasure in the fact that there were already bruises blooming on his fair skin.
Alik approached Raulyn and knelt down to his level so that they were eye to eye. "What are your demands?" He asked softly.
"Leave the Isles to us and my men will let your people live," Raulyn croaked. "You can have the southern lands back along with their resources as long as we are left in peace."
It would mean leaving Eamon's home, leaving his birthplace and never returning. It would mean giving up Stormholme, whatever remained of his people there, his reputation would be in tatters-
But it would keep his men alive.
Alik knew that was reason enough for him to consider the offer.
"What will happen to the people? The people of the Isles?" Alik asked.
"They will have their place," Raulyn said and though he was still on his knees, a cold light shone in his eyes and Alik had to fight his instinct
to pull away. Instead, he remained crouched in front of Raulyn.
"You will make them slaves," Alik concluded.
"Nations are made in such ways," Raulyn said and moved so suddenly, Alik cursed himself for not being more ready.
Pain blossomed on his cheek and he fell back, landed on the platform and raised a hand to his cheek. Eamon was already jerking the small dagger from Raulyn's hand and the look on his face chilled Alik even as the pain raced through him like a wildfire.
"Eamon, no!" He cried out.
Alik knew that Eamon could kill the other prince with less than the dagger he now clutched. But Alik was also aware that it would start a war that would be bloodier than it had to be. The people on the Isles would pay the price for Raulyn's death and they would pay it for generations.
Eamon stood over Raulyn who was already bleeding from his nose and mouth. Eamon was breathing hard, his shoulders rising and falling with his breath.
"You will pay for that," Eamon said and stepped away from Raulyn. He offered Alik a hand up and tore a strip of cloth from his own shirt and passed it over to Alik.
"I'll send your people your warmest regards," Raulyn said as he wiped his face clear of the blood there.
"Tell them that their King is coming for them. Tell them that I will be there soon," Eamon replied evenly. "Tell them that their princess fares well."
"But not all of the royal family. Not all of you survived that night. Too bad, isn't it?" Raulyn grinned and it was ghastly. His teeth and face were still red.
"Didn't we?" Eamon grinned as well and it was like they were old friends, sharing a funny story. "It doesn't seem like you are an expert on my family, seeing as you have the wrong princess in your bed. So who's to say who survived your father's cowardly attack? Are you sure you hung the right man? Are you sure it was Prince Edmond? What word have you on Princess Lissandra?" Eamon tapped the side of his head with the dagger he had taken off Raulyn and even Alik had to wonder if he had lost touch with reality. "I will see you soon and when I cut your tongue from your mouth and have you quartered by my four best horses, you'll know that I didn't earn my crown with pretty words. I earned it through the blood of men who were better than you."
Chapter 8
"I hope you are pleased with yourself," Lady Sexton snapped. She was currently the only one speaking to Alik and only to scold him. "Your parents and your cousin were always going on and on about your intelligence, your sharp wit and we let you out of our sight for but a few moments-"
"Eamon was there," Alik pointed out and felt his eyes water as the healer began to sew his cheek back together. It wasn't a deep cut, but deep enough to require stitching.
"Oh, get away!" Lady Sexton snapped at the man and pushed him out of the way. She took the needle from his hands and sat down in the stool that he vacated. "For all their training, not a single one of them can mend decently," she muttered and quickly went to work.
Alik closed his eyes. As soon as they had returned, Eamon went directly to the barracks and Aveling and Margrave left for the war room with everyone else trailing behind them. Alik was ushered off to his own room where a healer and a very upset Lady Sexton met him.
"As far as first meetings go, this could have been far worse," Alik said.
"How could this possibly have gone any worse?" Lady Sexton asked.
"Eamon could have killed him," he said.
"I fail to see how that could have been a bad thing," she said and Alik felt queasy as the thread tugged at his cheek. The cut, once cleaned, started at the edge of the left side of his jaw, deepened as it swept upward across his cheek, and trailed off as it disappeared at the tip of his eyebrow.
"Any ruler with any kind of intelligence or people who know of these things would have a plan in place if they are taken or killed. And I believe that the people of the Isles would have suffered for it in ways that we don't know of yet," Alik said.
Lady Sexton remained silent until she was done and sat back. "I suppose you were right," she sighed and sat back. She put one hand to her eyebrow, as though she were in pain. "But it doesn't make anything easier, does it?"
"This is my first war, so I'm not the expert to ask," Alik muttered and folded his hands over his chest.
"And the expert to ask is busy preparing the men," Lady Sexton said. She sighed and stood, straightened her skirts, and turned. "I will convene your council, Your Highness. We have much to discuss."
Alik didn't reply and Lady Sexton left.
“Will there be anything else, Your Highness?” The healer asked.
“No, you may go.”
Alik lay on his back and stared up at the canopy of his bed for a long moment. He couldn’t help but replay the visit with Raulyn over and over in his head. It seemed a strange request, for a stay of arms, right after the king died. To Alik, it seemed like quite possibly the best time to mount an assault, to show the nobility that doubted the young prince, that he could in fact bring down both Alik and Eamon.
Alik sat up and stared at the fireplace across from him.
It didn’t make sense. If Raulyn knew anything about the politics of court, he would be eager to lead his army into battle. Instead he asked for time to mourn and pulled all his spies from their lands.
Alik went to his doors and jerked them open.
“Get me Issat,” he ordered and slammed the doors once again.
He heard the guards shuffling and then they were gone again.
When Issat came in, Alik was pacing in front of the fireplace.
“Alik?” She asked slowly.
“I need your thoughts,” he said.
“Your face?”
He waved the question away but when she caught sight of the stitches she winced.
“You have been told that all the spies were pulled back to the Storm Isles, is that correct?” He asked.
“Yes. None remain. Or none of the ones that we knew of, anyway.” Issat took a seat in a chair and leaned forward to brace her forearms on her knees. Her thick braid fell off her shoulder as she watched him.
“Do we know of all of them?” Alik asked.
“Impossible to say. If they were any good at their job, then no. I imagine not.”
“Would you be able to find out, if there were any?”
“It might be possible. How soon would you need this information?”
“Yesterday.”
Issat studied him. “Would you like to explain to me what is on your mind?”
“Could you keep it from Eamon if I told you? Could you lie to Avelina?” Alik asked.
Issat looked down at her hands.
“Then I will not tell you,” Alik said gently and stopped in front of her. He kissed her hands and looked up at her. “I do have one thing I need you to do for me and I need you to keep it to yourself for as long as possible.”
“What is it?” She asked but Alik saw that she already knew what he would ask her to do, what he would order her to do if she refused.
“I need you to ready my room,” Alik said and stood.
She looked up at him and opened her mouth to protest. Alik turned from her and went to the doors. He paused with his hands on the handle and looked to her.
“Once you have the person and they are secured in my room, please come get me. I am at your disposal,” he whispered and left her alone in the room.
Alone, Issat stared at the fire and she had to remind herself that she was honor bound to her kings and to her country and she had sworn an oath so many years ago to do as Alik asked.
Even if it was a stain on both of their souls.
Chapter 9
The war room was dominated by the large oak table in the middle of the room, with a chair for each council member. When Alik arrived, all but Issat and Lady Sexton had arrived. Eamon and Alik’s chairs were slightly elevated above the others and there was no moving them so they were forced, for the first time since the boat ride back, to sit next to each other.
Eamon was stiff when Alik sat but Alik had
his mind on other things. He didn’t think to address Eamon or his discomfort and then Lady Sexton arrived and took her seat.
Alik waved the door shut and Avelina glanced at the empty seat next to her.
“Lady Issat was called away on something. She will be caught up later,” Alik explained.
Margrave frowned and looked up at Alik but before he could question Alik, Eamon cleared his throat and leaned forward.
The meeting began.
Alik listened but offered very little in the way of advice. This was not where his experience was and he was hesitant to offer an opinion that would cost them lives.
“Will you grant them their stay?” Lady Sexton asked. She had remained relatively quiet as well, watching as pieces were moved across the map that was spread out on the table.
Eamon sat back and studied the map for a moment. “It is possible,” he finally said with a sigh.
“Why?” Avelina asked and there was a bite to her voice that Alik hadn’t heard before. When he turned to her, he saw that her face was closed off and every single bit of elegance had vanished. “They didn’t give Edmond the decency of a burial, I don’t see why we should honor their traditions.”
“I believe that we will have to, merely to gather our forces. I don’t do it out of deference or respect. He asks for three days and it will take five to ready everything at the latest. Even the shortest time we have available to us will still put us past his request,” Eamon said. He didn’t seem bothered by her anger in the slightest. In fact, when Alik looked closer, he realized that Eamon was exhausted.
Alik started to say something but Eamon cut him off with a harsh look.
“We will gather our forces as soon as we can. As soon as we are able to transport five thousand, with weapons, we will go,” Eamon went on.
“And the other five?” Lord Neale asked.
“They will follow as soon as possible. I will take the first wave and Milet will go with me. Sir Athalos, Sir Reeve, and Sir Clifton will form a triumvirate and they will take the second wave,” Eamon said. He leaned back and propped his head up on his fist and studied the map. “They will need to split up-”
