“Tell me, Maxime, is it how it ends? Is it only blood they want?”
Louis fell silent and shrank. “I know. Indifference for the nation and love for oneself is the source of all evil. I failed on that.” Hesitantly, he raised his eyes again. “But…he is kind…like you.” Louis’s heart gorged. “I will always…” He choked with pain and touched his chest. “You’re here.” He tilted his head and looked sidewise at the sky. “You would have approved of him… But I will keep on fighting for you. For them. For our dreams.”
“Here you are.”
Louis turned around. With a limp, Folc approached him. At his side walked Selen, his arms cradling the child.
“The great hall buzzes with irritation. The palace household, the clerks, the guild representatives, they expect orders and seek for 8audience.”
Louis groaned. “Let them macerate.”
He looked at the little boy who played with a crocus. All the children turned orphans by the disease had been placed under the Crown’s protection and care as a tutelage until they came of age. The blond boy had served as an example and had been allowed to stay in the palace until he would be sent to one of the schools. Louis had refrained from giving his opinion on the details, leaving Selen to pick the peculiar name of Neleus. The child noticed his presence and smiled, carving two dimples in his round cheeks. From his small fingers, he handed Louis the flower.
“Liss.”
Still uncomfortable by Neleus’s presence, Louis reached for the flower. “It’s Louis. You don’t say the S,” he said so softly that he barely recognized his voice.
Selen dropped a kiss on the tip of Neleus’s nose and gave him to Folc. “Tell them we’re on our way.”
Folc nodded and returned to the palace, muttering incoherent babble interrupted by pitched, giggling screams.
“I may save him, but he won’t be the same,” Selen whispered. Louis gave him a puzzled look. “Brother Benedict.”
Louis took his place back on the stone. “And for nothing,” he sighed. Selen sat at his side. “How can they keep a close eye on my actions if they revere me?”
“Revere you? I would say the cure barely tipped the scales in our favor to keep the throne.” Selen turned his face to him. “It wasn’t up to them to deliver the sentences.”
“If the men can’t be just, it means they are still not equal,” Louis mused, his gaze lost on the crocus in his hand. “They were not free like the Greek, like the Children, like your people. They were oppressed, abused. All this is new for them. Their souls are unpolished, violent. They should be transported by the ideas we bring. These ideas should fill their hearts with pride. If the fire weakens and goes out, it will be forever.”
“We bring. They lost their freedom a long time ago. Their hearts are weak.”
“Yet, though they can’t grasp its virtue, they still love the word. Freedom. They wish for it. They will aim for it. I will bring it to them.”
“Like a Prometheus?” Selen’s fingers reached for his hand. “It will hurt you. It will hurt us.”
Louis stared at Selen’s serene, green eyes and found a comforting understanding. He chewed on his lip. “I know…but we will have lived. And yet, I fear it may be too late. One can only be virtuous once.”
Selen put his hand on his shoulder. “The year-king Dionysus brings us spring. Earth dies. Earth is reborn.” Louis laid the flower on the stone. “We will rise again.”
THANK YOU
Thank you for reading my second novel, Tears of Winter. I hope you enjoyed it. I would gladly appreciate your comments. The next volume, Light from Aphelion 3, is in preparation. If you are curious to know more about the following events in Trevalden, feel free to join the official Facebook page or my Tumblr blog!
Light from Aphelion 2 - Tears of Winter Page 49
