by Vela Roth
Kumeta’s mouth tightened. “The Tenebrans know we have remained active within their borders all this time, despite the uncertainty of relations between our peoples. So too have the Cordians known. While the Tenebran mages and warriors have nipped at our heels, the Cordian mages have champed at the bit, eager to face us again in a real war. Only the Tenebrans’ resistance to outsiders has kept their kingdom neutral ground.”
“But the hour has come,” said Basir. “The mages will have their war upon our people. Two choices remain to King Lucis: to be an obstacle or a collaborator. Only one promises him power.”
“He will host the war on his own soil,” Kumeta said. “In return, he will have the power of the Orders holding him on his throne. He has no use for peace with Hesperines.”
Lio shook his head. “Since the battle at the Summit, Lucis’s people have been more afraid of antagonizing us than making peace with us. They cling to superstition and tradition. They would rather see us appeased than riled.”
“When has Lucis ever listened to his people?” Kumeta asked.
“He can hardly round up the entire populace and silence their cries, and the free lords will not do it for him, when they share the common people’s fears. Even Lucis cannot afford to lose the support of the entire nobility. As strong a king as he is, there are certain free lords he needs on his side. They are calling for him to reconvene the Summit.”
Basir shook his head. “Lucis will yield to the mages, not the free lords.”
“How can we be sure?” Lio demanded.
Kumeta looked to Uncle Argyros. “We came to tell you that Cordium is mobilizing.”
Uncle Argyros nodded once. “I am not surprised,” he said after a moment. “And yet the confirmation comes as a shock.”
“Nothing can cushion that blow,” Basir agreed.
This despair…this was not theirs, inflicted upon Lio by the Blood Union. This was entirely his own. It felt vast enough for all of them combined.
“The entire Order of Anthros is stirring out of the temples,” Kumeta told Lio. “The war mages are the force that moves their brethren, and even the scribes are pushing scrolls faster in preparation. I do not have to remind you what history has proved: the other Orders will follow, as their teachings say all the gods bow to Anthros’s Will.”
Goddess help him. Even if all his other efforts to return to Tenebra failed, he had counted on the Summit to get him to Cassia. She accomplished so much, but were her two hands enough to hold the entire Order of Anthros in check? Were the strings she pulled in Tenebra stronger than the reins the war mages held?
If she could not manipulate the king into calling the Summit, what hope did Lio have of ever seeing her again?
The letter. There had to be something in the prince’s letter. Surely Rudhira would come through for Lio.
Basir added, “The free lords do persist in their belief that renewing the Equinox Oath with us is the best course of action. To their credit.”
Kumeta’s lip twisted. “I never thought I would have a good word to say about the free lords of Tenebra, but they are proving astute in this case. Who knew those warmongering fools could see reason?”
Lio knew who truly saw reason. In his mind, he ran down his list once more, recalling each and every lord who had gotten something or given something at Cassia’s instigation.
Basir leaned against the wind, holding Kumeta closer. “The pressure the king’s nobles apply will not be enough, but it is considerable, and more coordinated than any effort they have exerted in a very long time.”
“And yet,” Kumeta added, “they have not resorted to violence as they are wont to do. They stop short of armed rebellion, which would accomplish nothing except destabilizing the kingdom. Whoever is influencing them is aware that revolt would only give Cordium an excuse to ‘aid’ the king and thus hasten the Orders’ intrusion into Tenebra.”
Uncle Argyros’s gaze sharpened. “Do we have any information yet on who among them is responsible for motivating them to stand together?”
Basir scowled. “We are not pleased with that person’s ability to act without our knowledge.”
“But,” Kumeta admitted, “we can give you an exact tally of how many lives their actions have saved.”
Lio must ask her for each and every name, when there was time. One night, he wanted to recite them to Cassia.
“The more resistance the free lords mount,” Basir said, “the more slowly and carefully the king must build his alliance with the Cordian Orders. The time this has bought us is a boon. When the king brings the lords to heel and he can give Cordium their war at last, we will be prepared. We will have located all the Hesperines errant who did not return to Orthros when the Queens made the Last Call on the Spring Equinox to summon everyone home. Lucis will eventually give the Cordians permission to begin their hunt for Hesperines everywhere in Tenebra, but by that time, there will be no Hesperines for them to find.”
Uncle Argyros’s voice was admirably steady. “How many more of our people remain Abroad who did not heed the Call?”
Basir’s hard expression softened. “Your daughter is not the only one, my friend. We shall see Nike returned to you before the storm breaks.”
“Trust in us—and our prince,” Kumeta said with emphasis. “He will not rest until he brings his Trial sister home.”
Uncle Argyros said nothing about the prince. “I wish I knew the name of the anonymous benefactor who may be my daughter’s savior.”
In moment’s like these, Lio’s secret felt too great to bear any longer. But all he could do was remain silent and promise himself that he would thank Cassia for giving his family hope of Nike’s return.
“We have ruled out Free Lords Hadrian and Titus,” Basir said. “Although they are undoubtedly the most powerful men in Tenebra after the king, their feud makes it impossible for either of them to act as a unifier. The loyalties of the Council are divided between them. Neither could direct their peers as a whole.”
“Yet they both stand together in urging the king to call the Summit,” Kumeta observed.
Lio would never cease to marvel at Cassia. “The two patriarchs of the bitterest feud in Tenebran history have been brought to agree on something.”
“One thing is certain.” Basir’s smile looked more like a threat. “The king ought to be very concerned about this person. Someone who can rally—or perhaps manipulate—the free lords to this extent may well be the greatest enemy he has yet faced. One who uses his own strategies more effectively than he.”
“You mentioned Lord Flavian last time,” Uncle Argyros said. “You still do not suspect he could be the one?”
Lio made himself ease his grip on his scroll case. If he was not careful, he would leave a dent in the metal.
“Lord Flavian is popular,” Basir replied. “He has the qualities men of Tenebra value in one another.”
Kumeta snorted. “Namely a list of female conquests second to none. Granted, he has also shown prowess in battle and as a sportsman, and he is known for delivering on his promises to allies and dependents alike. All this, and he has his father’s good looks and way with words. In fact, his charisma outshines even his father’s. Although he is Lord Titus’s son, his long years of service to the king have placed him above the free lords’ squabbles and led his peers to perceive him as a much more neutral figure. He is respected by both sides of the feud.”
Uncle Argyros pursed his lips. “Does Lord Flavian realize how much is his for the taking?”
“If he does,” Basir answered, “he appears to have no ambition to take advantage of his position, except to further the king’s goals. His loyalty to Lucis is unquestioned. The king orders him to ride, Lord Flavian asks how far. His courtship of the king’s daughter is further evidence of this.”
Lio gritted his teeth. His belly threatened to humiliate him and reject the useless deer blood with which he’d filled his gnawing gut not an hour past. Now he regretted trying to stave his hunger with an extra dr
ink.
It sickened him to imagine the suitor who inflicted himself on Cassia. Lio had scarcely left her side before this bloodless Flavian had closed in on her. For half a year now, she had been forced to bear it, and Lio had been forced to listen to tales of the man’s persistence.
“Lady Cassia is considered illegitimate by human standards,” Uncle Argyros pointed out. “How much would she really strengthen Lord Flavian’s position?”
As if she existed for Flavian’s benefit. As if it were not she who had fought tooth and nail for her own hard-won position these past months. Flavian was everything Cassia abhorred—a man whose attentions she must endure at her father’s command, one who surely wished to use her for his own gain.
Lio’s blood felt hot in his veins. “She won’t wed him.”
Three pairs of elder eyes turned upon him.
Lio struggled to keep his voice even. “It would make Flavian too much of a threat to Lucis. The king won’t go through with it.”
“Not an unfounded observation,” Kumeta granted him. “For someone as popular as Lord Flavian to marry one of the king’s family, whatever Lady Cassia’s status, might indeed make him appear a very favorable alternative. No one loves Lucis, and no one respects his thirteen-year-old son. The free lords would see Lord Flavian as one of their own, and any heirs Lady Cassia bore him would have a tenuous hereditary claim on the throne.”
Lio’s gorge rose.
“However,” Basir reiterated, “Lucis appears assured of Lord Flavian’s loyalty. The point is moot.”
Uncle Argyros once more gave Lio a reprieve from his gaze, looking instead at Kumeta. “If Lord Flavian is to be a factor, we must keep him in our sights.”
Kumeta shrugged. “As suspicious as the king is, if he does not regard the young lord as a threat, I am inclined to think Lord Flavian is not the powerful influence mobilizing the free lords. He is still someone to watch, however, as the man who will soon be betrothed to Lady Cassia. He could certainly do better than an illegitimate daughter, but who can really do better than the daughter of the king? Regardless, with Lucis arranging the match, Lord Flavian will go along with it.”
“No,” Lio insisted. “The king has allowed many free lords to court Lady Cassia and denied as many her hand. Flavian must know this is a game Lucis plays. The king merely uses his daughter to tempt his allies as if she were a jewel or a plot of land rather than a person.”
“Now is not the time for your theories, Deukalion.” Basir sounded resigned. “You are correct in your observation of the king’s usual pattern, but this appears it will be the exception.”
Lio braced his legs against a wave of dizziness that made him feel as if he might go spinning off the tower. “He will not marry her to Flavian. It would strengthen a young, popular lord’s position too much.”
“Or make him easier for Lucis to control, as he does his daughter,” Basir countered.
But Lucis did not control his daughter. Not at all.
Lio bit back his protests. He would achieve nothing by questioning Basir and Kumeta’s wisdom except drawing more suspicion on himself. He had few shreds of composure left. Best to make the most of those that remained to him.
He had guarded his and Cassia’s secret so carefully these months. It was the axis around which his world now rotated. He would keep protecting it, for it was the only way he could protect her.
He had kept his promise to exile himself here while she stayed in Tenebra and faced their worst enemy alone. If she begged him to make the same promise now, it would be beyond his power. Now he knew what it cost him. But he had been strong enough to make it then, and he would hold to it now.
He wasn’t sure what he feared more. That a night might come when she was in danger and he would be unable to act. Or that he might be the one who betrayed her.
If he ever gave in and admitted what he knew, it would be the same as violating his promise to stand back and let her fight. Her fight would end the night he revealed her importance to his people. They would pluck her from the king’s grasp without effort. Lio would be with her again, his misery at an end. And all her valiant efforts would be for nothing.
Basir sighed. “It is time we were gone. The prince must have the Queens’ reply.”
Kumeta took his hand. “After that, we are to shadow a party of mages due to arrive in Tenebra from Cordium.”
Uncle Argyros lifted his gaze toward the sky. “How many times has the Prince Errant expressed a desire to do more than shadow them?”
Basir let out one deep, grim laugh. “Thank Hespera he is not the human he pretends to be. If he did not have his Gift and his Queens to temper him, he would hand the mages a war, indeed.”
“Goddess help us all,” Uncle Argyros muttered.
“Pray our prince’s thirst for battle is unjustified in this case.” There was no humor in Kumeta’s tone. “These Cordians are from the Order of Anthros, and we can only hope they are agriculturalists and geomagi as purported. We know they could be war mages hiding their magic from us. After what we experienced when we fought Dalos at the Summit, we must be wary. Others from his order may use the same methods to conceal their true power.”
“Another ruse seems too bold,” Uncle Argyros said. “It would be a risky course of action on the part of the Order of Anthros and King Lucis. The free lords are still up in arms that Dalos pretended to be Tenebran under the false name Amachos and that the king appointed him royal mage. They blame Dalos for the catastrophe at the Summit and feel betrayed that their king colluded with him.”
“It would make more sense for the mages to be what Tenebrans expect,” Kumeta agreed, “emissaries come to bless the harvest during the sacred Autumn Equinox rites taking place at Solorum in the morning. The Cordians seem bent on smoothing ruffled feathers among their brethren in the Tenebran temples to make way for ‘cooperation.’”
Uncle Argyros nodded. “Such a sacred day in such a significant location as Tenebra’s capital is an opportunity for the Cordians to achieve both religious and political ends. The Autumn Greeting is the most important courtship ritual of the year, when many alliances are formed.”
“The whole kingdom is astir with the news,” she said. “Lord Flavian wishes to play the role of Anthros in the sacred festival dance, and he intends to ask Lady Cassia to be his Kyria.”
A roar filled Lio’s ears.
“Well,” said Uncle Argyros. “Lord Flavian to ask the king’s daughter for her promise dance. That is news.”
Through the throbbing pulse in Lio’s head, Kumeta’s words continued, blow after blow. “For Lucis to allow Lord Flavian to dance the Autumn Greeting with Lady Cassia would be a sure sign the king and Lord Titus will begin negotiating the terms of their children’s betrothal.”
Basir dealt the next strike. “We can expect the betrothal to be final by winter and legally binding, then the wedding to follow in spring.”
Lio could not speak, but his uncle voiced what ran through his mind. “Princess Solia danced the Autumn Greeting with one of her suitors, but did not marry him.”
“Hers was a sad fate,” Kumeta said. “We can hope marriage is indeed what awaits Lady Cassia after this dance.”
“How certain are you the king will allow her to accept Lord Flavian’s invitation?” Uncle Argyros asked.
Basir issued his verdict. “They are the two things that never cease in Tenebra. Weddings and war. Lucis shall order both this Autumn.”
Off Course
When Basir and Kumeta were gone, Uncle Argyros turned to Lio. “Is their firsthand account enough to convince you? There will be no Summit.”
No Summit. Only the dance.
Would the Autumn Greeting sentence Cassia to marriage or death?
It was all Lio could do to stay on his feet atop the tower and not leave his uncle’s presence at a run. “After I read Rudhira’s letter, I think I will join Mak and Lyros at the gymnasium. Then I ought to check on Zoe…”
“Good.” For the first time tha
t night, Uncle Argyros did not sound worried. In fact, he smiled, his relief and affection obvious on his face. “I know you will wish to put Zoe at ease. Waking up in a different place than the one where you went to sleep can be unsettling at that age. It is admittedly a boon to elders that polar twilight makes sucklings Slumber through most of Migration, but I am quite ready for their hours of wakefulness, aren’t you? Kadi and Javed are perfectly capable of parenting Bosko and Athena without help from hovering grandparents, but Lyta and I intend to enjoy every opportunity to hover all the same.”
Lio descended the tower with a single Hesperine step. He stumbled at his destination, but found he had landed where he had intended. Not the busy agora at the foot of the tower, but the Queens’ Orchard. His eyes adapted to the darkness under the trees and revealed he was alone. He sensed no other Hesperine auras. For miles around him, ancient, untamed forest shielded him from all witnesses. He yanked the letter out of his scroll case and unrolled it.
Lio,
My pride is wounded. You saved me for your last resort.
Your mother, father, uncle, aunt and your Queens already said no. Don’t think you’ll get anywhere with me. I would sooner spend the Dawn Slumber in Cordium than ask my mothers to reverse a decision. If you think you know better than they do about anything, go ask Javed to examine your head.
Your skills would be invaluable to me, and I will gladly have you at my side, son of Apollon—in a few hundred years. Even then I will make sure I am not within your father’s reach when you break it to him that you are following in his footsteps and going errant with me.
You’re my youngest sister’s age, Lio. You think I could stand myself if I brought you out here now?
Your training with Mak and Lyros is not a waste. Keep at it. Stay strong, and stay close to your Trial brothers. I hope none of you will need your skills as soon as I think. In any case, learning the battle arts will create opportunities for you, benefits that will come to you in the future. Remember that your father, Nike, Methu and I were already old when we left Orthros together.
