Prince's Fire

by Amy Raby

  “I wish I hadn’t stranded him in Riorca.”

  “I love that you stranded him there.” Vitala chuckled. “It serves him right. Anyway, he’s not truly stranded; he’ll commandeer another ship.”

  “It serves him right for what? For not letting me go?”

  “Yes,” said Vitala. “And for trying to shove my mother at me.”

  “Oh.” Celeste felt a pang, deep in her chest. “He meant well, with that.”

  “I’m sure he did. That doesn’t make it right.”

  Celeste swallowed. She didn’t agree, but she didn’t want to cause offense. Vitala had done her an enormous favor in coming on board and authorizing her voyage. “I had lunch with Treva. I thought her rather nice.”

  “Nice,” said Vitala mockingly. “You didn’t grow up with her.”

  “Was she cruel to you?” asked Celeste.

  “She was weak,” said Vitala.

  “Is that so terrible?”

  “Yes,” said Vitala. “A mother has no business having children if she hasn’t the strength to protect them. When I was a little girl, everyone hated me—my father, my brothers and sisters, the neighbors. It wasn’t just name-calling either; some of the kids threw rocks at me. And she never defended me, not once.”

  “I think Treva had a hard life,” said Celeste. “My people did not treat yours very well back then.”

  Vitala sniffed. “They certainly didn’t. For that matter, sometimes they still don’t. But it’s no excuse for Treva.”

  “Perhaps she was weak,” said Celeste, “but she loved you.”

  Vitala shook her head. “It’s not love, letting your daughter be treated in such a manner.”

  “Are you certain?” said Celeste. “Is it a crime to lack the strength to stand up for another?”

  Vitala’s eyes were hard and narrow as she stared out to sea. “Yes.”

  “I pity her,” said Celeste.

  • • •

  When Prince Rayn’s ship sailed into the Bay of Tiasa on a fine cloudless morning, the harbor and its environs exploded into activity. A pyrotechnic stationed atop a palace tower broadcasted the news of his return with an exuberant display of airborne shapes and colors. On the docks, a crowd gathered, watching and pointing at the ship as it anchored. By the time Rayn had disembarked and been rowed to shore, a welcoming party had gathered to receive him.

  As Rayn stepped onto dry land, his mother, Kin-Lera, stepped forward to embrace him. She was the queen of Inya. No—not anymore. Now that her husband had abdicated the throne, her status and rank were uncertain. Rayn’s own status was clearer. As a candidate for the throne, he retained the title of prince as a courtesy until the ratification vote.

  “Rayn,” she murmured. “So much has happened since you left.”

  “So I hear. It’s good to see you, Mother.” He drew back to study her. He hadn’t been gone more than about a month, but it seemed to him that she had a few more gray hairs than when he’d left.

  “You should have come earlier,” she said. “You’ve barely any time before ratification.”

  “I’m aware of that.” Councilor Worryn had engineered it that way, hoping Rayn would miss his ratification ceremony entirely, in which case he would almost certainly lose the vote. “How is Father? Why did he abdicate?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. I can’t bear to be around him, the way he is now.”

  Rayn frowned. His father needed her, yet she lacked either the courage or the compassion to face his illness. For the past few years, she’d confined herself to her rooms, refusing to involve herself in politics. She would not help him fight the Land Council. For that, he needed someone tougher, someone ready and willing to throw herself into the fray. Someone like Celeste.

  Rayn’s fourteen-year-old sister, Rilia, pushed forward and threw her arms around him. “I missed you!”

  “Hey, Gills.” He tousled her hair, and she fake punched him in the arm. She pretended to hate the nickname he’d coined for her years ago for her habit of diving deep into ocean gullies and staying down so long people thought she’d drowned. He knew she secretly liked the name.

  “We had a tremor,” said Rilia.

  “Did we?” His eyes rose to craggy Mount Drav, which towered above the city. It was shrouded in mist and looked quiescent, but that could be an illusion. “How long ago?”

  “Two days,” said Rilia. “I wasn’t scared.”

  “Of course you weren’t,” said Rayn.

  “Mom was,” said Rilia.

  He nodded absently. Tremors were common in Tiasa, and not a good sign. They often preceded a lava flow. He frowned at the mountain.

  Standing a short ways behind his mother and sister was Kima, his daughter’s wet nurse. She had eleven-month-old Aderyn in her arms. He strode forward to meet them. “How is she?” he asked, taking the baby from her.

  Kima beamed. “Talking up a storm, Your Highness.”

  He bounced Aderyn gently. “Are you a talker, little one?”

  “Da,” she said.

  Still carrying her, he walked to the end of the pier, where the royal carriage waited, guarded by a palace servant. “Ishyo,” he said, greeting the man with a clasp of the wrist.

  Ishyo inclined his head. “Your Highness.” He opened the carriage door.

  Rayn rode to the palace in the company of his family, Kima, and Magister Lornis. The carriage windows were flung open, as they ought to be on such a fine day. While he was not pleased about having been forced out of Kjall without concluding his business there, it was impossible not to enjoy Inya’s pleasures. Celeste would love this weather. There were no cold nights in Inya. Not often, anyway. And it wasn’t unbearably hot. A brisk breeze blew in over the ocean during much of the daylight hours, freshening the air.

  There were so many things he wanted to show Celeste: the ocean so blue that it outshone the sky; the ominous but awe-inspiring Mount Drav, sitting above the city like a god in residence; the smell of flowers on the breeze.

  Ahead was the Tiasan Palace, where he had been born, and where one day, gods willing, he would die. It was a magnificent, open-air structure of quartz and limestone, all columns and arches and bridges and breezeways. In every hidden nook stood a fine tree, or a bush as tall as a man. Flower-laden vines twined up the columns. And there were not nearly so many guards here as there were in Kjall and Riorca. In Kjall, he thought he’d suffocate from them—but the empire had always been a more violent nation than Inya. Here, one could relax and be a man, not some guarded, sequestered thing who needed an escort just to relieve his bladder.

  As they left the carriage, he handed Aderyn back to Kima.

  Lornis hurried to his side as they passed beneath the archway and into the main gallery. “We have much to do,” he said. “You should start by lining up support from the Fireturners. After that, the Merchants’ Guild. Some of the councilors, too—not all of them oppose you.”

  Rayn turned left, toward his quarters. “I think I should freshen up first. And I want to talk to my father.”

  “Of course,” said Lornis. “But then—”

  “Your Highness,” called Ishyo from behind them. “You’re going the wrong way.”

  Rayn turned, annoyed. “My quarters are this way. You think I’ve forgotten where they are?” A shiver of fear ran through him. Maybe he had forgotten. Was his mind going, like his father’s? No, of course not. He was absolutely in the right hallway.

  “Since your father’s abdication, your rooms have been moved.”

  “What?” said Rayn. “Why?”

  Ishyo clasped his hands, looking nervous. “Councilor Worryn said your rooms should be moved to the Hibiscus Tower, since you’re no longer the king’s son.”

  “But I’m up for ratification in ten days!” cried Rayn.

  Ishyo lowered his head. “Yes, sir.”
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  “It’s true, Rayn,” said his mother. “The whole family’s been moved.”

  “Did you not tell them—” He cut himself off. His mother never talked back to the Land Council.

  “I can show you the way,” offered Ishyo. “Fastest route is up to the third floor, across the suspension bridge—”

  “I know where the Hibiscus Tower is.” Rayn took a deep breath. The situation was infuriating—humiliating!—but he couldn’t blame it on poor Ishyo. The man only followed orders. And while he knew where the tower was, he didn’t know which room he’d been assigned. Through gritted teeth, he said, “Show me to my new rooms.”

  Ishyo nodded. “Yes, sir.” He led Rayn to the spiral staircase in the middle of the gallery.

  Rayn traipsed up the stairs, down a long hallway, and out onto the suspension bridge that led to the tower. It was pretty out here. A stream wound through the palace grounds, and he was above it now, inhaling the sweet scent of frangipani flowers blended with mangoes from a tree that overhung the stream. The pleasant nature of his surroundings didn’t change the fact that he’d been placed in no-man’s-land with the minor nobles and visiting dignitaries. Councilor Worryn was sending him a message: In the corridors of power, you are not welcome.

  “Well,” said Lornis, stiff with affront, “I suppose Worryn thinks you should be grateful to have a room at all.”

  “And a beating heart,” said Rayn. He had a feeling Councilor Worryn had never meant for him to come home from Riorca at all.

  22

  After settling into his new quarters, Rayn headed for his father’s room. Already he was annoyed at these new lodgings. The Hibiscus Tower didn’t have enough arches and windows, and the air didn’t circulate well. If he was ratified as king, perhaps he could fix that—open up a few key passageways to let the air flow. Furthermore, his rooms were on the south side of the grounds and overlooked the island interior instead of the harbor. The view was pleasant, but in his old room on the north side he’d enjoyed being able to watch the ships come and go. It was a simple way of keeping up with the goings-on of his people, since most local trade passed through the Tiasan harbor.

  Rayn’s father had been moved to the Hibiscus Tower as well. One of his caretakers stood outside the door to his new room.

  “Konani,” said Rayn, greeting the man by name, “how is he?”

  Konani grimaced. “Not well.”

  Rayn lowered his voice. “Were you here when he decided to abdicate the throne?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Why do you think he did it?”

  “Well,” said Konani, also in a low voice, “I think it was about time, sir. He ought to have done it years ago. He had some discussions with Councilor Worryn, and then he signed the papers.”

  “I find it curious that the decision was made while I was out of the country.”

  “Ah.” Konani looked uncomfortable. “That is curious.”

  “I want to see him,” said Rayn.

  “He’s not in a good mood,” said Konani.

  “Nonetheless.” Rayn gestured for him to step away.

  “Yes, Your Highness.” Konani complied.

  Rayn went inside.

  Zalyo Daryson, former king of Inya, sat by the window, looking out. Rayn, who’d been spindly as a child, now resembled his father in ways that both pleased and worried him. The two men were about the same height and had the same large build and blond hair. Zalyo’s hair was fading now, but in an attractive way, almost to a platinum color. Rayn might age similarly, he knew, but that was what frightened him. He did not want to follow his father into madness.

  Zalyo spoke without turning around. “Konani, this window isn’t right.”

  “Excuse me, Father,” said Rayn. “It’s Rayn, not Konani.”

  Zalyo spun around and looked at him. He blinked twice and furrowed his brow as if deep in thought. “Rayn?”

  “Yes, Father. It’s me.”

  Zalyo’s breath quickened, and he raised a shaky hand. “You’ve come to take my window.”

  “No, Father. I’ve returned from a diplomatic visit to Kjall. I’ve come to talk to you.”

  “You want my window,” said Zalyo. “But you won’t have it. Konani! Help!”

  Konani entered the room and held out his arms placatingly. “Rayn is not taking anything, sir. He’s your son, come to speak to you.”

  “It’s the wrong window,” said Zalyo. “It’s supposed to look out on the harbor, so I can watch for the attack ships.”

  “There are no attack ships,” said Rayn gently.

  “There are. You don’t want me to see them,” said Zalyo. “That’s why you changed my window.” He turned to Konani and pointed at Rayn. “It’s his fault. He took my window.”

  Konani’s brow wrinkled. “No, sir. The prince wasn’t here when it happened. Councilor Worryn is the one who moved you to this room.”

  “But he ordered it. The councilor told me.” Zalyo turned to Rayn. “You want to steal my throne. I had to sign those papers to stop you. If I didn’t, you’d have let the attack ships come, same as they did in Mosar. I was watching for them. I was watching for the ships, but now the window is wrong and I can’t see. How will I know if they’re coming?”

  Rayn shifted on his feet. He couldn’t react to his father with emotion—he’d made that mistake in the past, and it had only worsened the situation. But it was hard to suppress the rage and grief that welled up within him. Councilor Worryn was poisoning his father’s mind, addling him further, turning him against his own family members so that he feared to trust the very people who protected and cared for him.

  He swallowed the lump in his throat, took a deep breath to calm himself, and said, “You’re confused, Father. I’m your son, and I’m not trying to steal anything. Those papers you signed were something else.”

  “He said you would deny it.” Zalyo wagged his finger at Rayn. “He told me you would. Didn’t he?” He turned to Konani.

  “Rayn had nothing to do with any of this,” said Konani.

  “You weren’t in the room,” said Zalyo.

  Konani and his mother were right: his father was worse. Maybe it was just the natural progression of his madness, but the change in room might have contributed to his paranoia. Rayn was plenty annoyed at having been moved from his quarters. How did it feel for Zalyo, who’d lived in his old rooms for much longer, and who didn’t have a lot of mental reserves to call upon? “You want your window back, the one that overlooks the harbor?”

  “I have to watch for the ships,” said Zalyo.

  “I’ll talk to Councilor Worryn and see what I can do,” said Rayn. “I haven’t much influence now, but if I’m ratified—”

  “You see?” hissed Zalyo. “He wants to steal my throne. I told you.”

  “No, Father.” He glanced helplessly at Konani, who shrugged, looking sad.

  “Get out,” said Zalyo. “Get out!”

  Rayn left the room, trembling all over.

  • • •

  By the time Rayn had crossed the suspension bridge again and reached the bottom of the spiral staircase, his hands had stopped shaking. He was still furious, and the back of his neck was hot, but he had sufficient control for a confrontation. Councilor Worryn would be, no doubt, on the first-floor hallway of the main gallery, in some of the very rooms from which he’d ousted Rayn and his family.

  As Rayn approached the hallway, a pair of guards stepped forward and blocked his way.

  Rayn rose to his full height. “You know who I am.”

  “Your rooms have been relocated,” said one of the guards, “by council’s orders. The council has ruling authority until a new king is ratified.”

  “I’m here to talk to Councilor Worryn,” said Rayn.

  “He’s not available.”

  Rayn peered down the hallway. He wa
s certain the councilor was there somewhere. What a coward. “My father, the king, is agitated—”

  “Your father is no longer the king,” said the guard.

  Rayn sighed heavily. “My father, the former king, is agitated because he’s been displaced from his chambers and can no longer see the harbor from his window.”

  “Those chambers are reserved for the king.”

  “And there is no king at the moment,” said Rayn. “My father just wants to look out his window. If he could just be placed there until ratification, or perhaps in another room that overlooks the harbor—”

  “You must take that up with the councilor,” said the guard. “When he’s available.”

  “And when will he be available?”

  “I don’t have that information, sir.”

  Rayn clenched his fists. “There’s something else I need to discuss with him, and it’s urgent. I’m told we had a tremor in Tiasa two days ago, and that often precedes a lava flow. There are settlers in the Four Pines valley who need to be evacuated. He needs to issue an emergency order—”

  “You’ll have to speak to him about it,” said the guard.

  “Yes, exactly!” said Rayn. “So let me through.”

  “Councilor Worryn isn’t available at this time,” said the guard.

  • • •

  More than ever, Rayn wished for Celeste. Justien too. Those two strategists would know how to handle a councilor who abused his father, insulted his family, and didn’t have the cods to speak to Rayn in person. He did, at least, have Lornis.

  He found Lornis’s door, also in the Hibiscus Tower, and knocked.

  No one answered.

  “Come on, Lornis, I know you’re in there.” Lornis left his door open when he was out, so there was no question that the man was at home. Rayn pounded on the door.

  The door squeaked open. A man who was not Lornis peered out at Rayn.

  “Oh, Magister Donyl.” Rayn held out his hand. “Are you well?”

  Donyl clasped his wrist. “I am, thank you, Your Highness. Your adviser’s indisposed. He’ll be here in a moment.”

  “Right.” He should have anticipated this. Magister Donyl was Lornis’s longtime lover—of course Lornis would want to see him after such a long absence.