It seemed a strange statement. Tae had never denied either of them audience, any time or anywhere, in the past. "Well, I could hardly have declined, could I? I simply entered the room, and there you were."
Talamir bowed several more times. "I'm sorry, Sire. Were we disturbing you, Sire? We can come back later, S-"
Subikahn seized his teacher's arm. "He's kidding, Tally." He turned Tae a pleading look. "Papa, tell him you're kidding."
"I'm kidding," Tae admitted, petting the cat hand over hand, until tiny hairs danced through the sunlight. She had a circular pattern of black stripes against a grizzly silver-gray and only one spot of white, at the very tip of her tail. "What can I do for the two of you?"
Subikahn looked like he might burst. "Talamir says I'll definitely pass my testing. When I return from the Fields of Wrath next time, I'll be a man!"
A wave of excitement passed through Tae, and he could not help grinning. The testing of the Renshai meant little to him, but it would make his son, and Kevral, happy. Nothing else mattered. "That's great news! On your return, we'll have to celebrate." A strange idea came to him suddenly. His advisers had bothered him for years about hosting a dance or massive party, a way to interact with lesser royalty and get to know them better. He was already popular with the peasantry, who saw the king as one of them. He often came across as shockingly down to earth. He kept their taxes low and allowed those with more experience and intelligence to make judgments and preside over his court.
The nobility, however, remained suspicious of the family who appeared to have no history before wresting power from the previous king of Stalmize, even nearly twenty years later. Tae suspected his advisers also hoped he would finally find a queen when he became lost in the romanticism of the event. "Perhaps a ball? We've never had one of those before."
Subikahn's smile seemed to encompass his entire face. "Thanks, Papa. That would be wonderful." He turned an adoring look upon his swordmaster.
Talamir remained stonily silent.
Imorelda butted Tae's hand with her head, and he scratched around her cheeks and ears. He could not imagine a more perfect moment: his only son deliriously happy and his cat purring mightily in his lap.
"Papa, there's more."
Still grinning, Tae inclined his head toward Subikahn to encourage him to continue.
Talamir closed his eyes and lowered his head.
"Papa," Subikahn blurted, his words nearly tumbling over one another. "I'm in love."
Though he did not stop grinning, Tae sucked in the sides of his mouth. Amused by the admission, he continued to stroke the cat. He had waited a long time for his son's first crush, glad the boy trusted him enough to share it. "Really? Who is she?"
"I've fallen for a Renshai, Papa. Just like you."
Just like me. Tae's grin wilted, and he shrugged. "I wouldn't wish my love life on anyone, Subikahn. Especially you." So it happened on Kevral's watch. He wondered why she had not mentioned it, or if she had been too busy training to even notice. Her intense and one-sided devotion to sword work might make her oblivious, even to her son's distraction. He wondered if she truly loved her children as much as her swords, her husband as much as her devotion to the Renshai techniques that made them the best swordsmen in the world.
Tae found himself shivering, filled with a sense of foreboding, and wondered why. It would fall to his long-suffering and able advisers to get the populace to accept a Renshai princess. If Subikahn had waited this long to mention her, he could not miss her too much, which meant their relationship could not have gotten serious yet.
Subikahn's excitement, however, told a different story. It was fresh and strong, beyond the level of a budding crush. In his excitement, he seized his torke's hand.
"So," Tae continued carefully. "When do I get to meet her?"
Subikahn laughed with the wild abandon of someone so madly in love it springs forth from every pore. Though playful at times, the young prince rarely became so giddy he could not contain himself. This time, the words practically spilled from his mouth. "You know my lover, Papa. Very well. It's…" He squeezed his teacher's hand. "It's Talamir."
Few things could have surprised Tae more. He sat in stunned silence, his hand stilling on the cat, his expression exposed. Unbidden thoughts jolted into his mind, among them the dire realization that his son had just blithely confessed to a capital crime.
For several moments, no one moved or spoke. Then, cautiously, Talamir freed his hand from Subikahn's, apparently anticipating a fight. Any difficult situation sent a Renshai to his sword.
Subikahn finally broke the hush. "I've found true love, Papa. True love! Aren't you… happy for me?" *What's wrong?* Imorelda stopped purring.
For once, Tae ignored her. "But… he's a…"
"… Renshai?" Subikahn finished.
"… man," Tae corrected. "Talamir's a man." He turned his son a confused look. "Right?" He wondered if he had missed something. Renshai women worked so hard, they often developed musculature in ways other females never did. Hard arms and thighs, tight abdominal musculature, were the norm for Renshai. Even Ra-khir had mistaken Kevral for a boy the first several times he met her. Yet, she had eventually developed enough breast and curve to look like a hardened woman rather than a man. And Talamir was clearly no youngster. He appeared to be in his twenties, and Renshai routinely looked younger than their ages.
"Yes, Papa. Tally passed his testing ten years ago. He's definitely a man."
Tae did not know what else to say. He and his son were talking at cross-purposes. They might just as well be using different languages, except the conversation would still make more sense.Tae spoke every known tongue fluently. He did not care when or if Talamir had ever passed beyond Renshai adolescence. He wanted to know why his son was calling a grown man "lover" as if gender meant nothing. He could not understand how two males could confess to a hanging crime with enthusiasm and excitement. Execution. Dread enveloped him. Not Subikahn. Not my only son. Tears pressed Tae's eyes, and he did not trust himself to speak. *What's wrong?* Imorelda asked again; and, again, he ignored her.
Subikahn and Talamir exchanged serious glances. "I told you we needed to keep it secret," the older Renshai whispered. The acoustics of the room carried it to Tae's ears anyway. "I warned you not to say anything."
"He's my father," Subikahn hissed back. "The best man in the world, and he loves me."
The best man in the world. It was exactly what Tae had always wanted to hear his son say, yet it did not warm his heart this day. Something inside him had died, and he worried that he might never know another moment of joy in his existence. He forced himself to speak, saying the only words he dared. "Go to your quarters. I need some time alone to think."
Talamir bowed and left the room faster than decorum dictated. Subikahn opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He started again, stopped, and sighed deeply before shuffling from the room as well.
Assailed by all the emotions shock had kept at bay, Tae buried his face in the cat and let them overtake him.
Grimly, King Tae Kahn walked the night hallways of Stalmize Castle, blind to the minute details he usually registered from habit. As a young man, survival had meant remaining attentive, even in sleep; and the need had stayed with him every moment of every day since. His torch threw wild shapes on the stonework, bringing shadows into vivid relief as he moved. That made him wildly uncomfortable. He would have preferred creeping through the darkness, unseen and unheard; but to do so, he had long ago learned the hard way, risked attack by his own guards. He noticed their every movement as they shifted to allow him free access, recognizing him in the hated, but necessary, torchlight.
Tae reached Subikahn's bedroom door sooner than he wanted. He stood there several moments in indecision. He had not eaten or slept since their conversation that morning. Nothing but his son's confession had found a toehold in his thoughts, and formulating his plan had taken precedence even over bodily functions. He believed in the choice he had made, y
et he still hesitated. No course of action seemed right; yet doing nothing would be the worst decision of all.
Tae studied the door without seeing it, knowing the teak outline as well as the palm of his own hand. He had memorized every line in the grain, every knothole in the pattern, every stain. He had spent the happiest times of his adulthood here, cradling and singing to his infant son, romping with the boy he had become, listening to the details of his adolescence. No friendship had ever been forged more solidly. The world had never known a love so genuine and deep. Yet, soon, for the boy's own good, Tae would have to do the most hateful thing he could ever have imagined.
Tae's hand rose, as if of its own accord, and knocked solidly on the teak door.
For several moments, nothing happened. Tae had just released a pent-up breath when the panel edged open a crack and one sleepy brown eye peered through it. "Papa?" Subikahn said through a yawn. His black hair lay in a tangle around his face, and he wore only his blue satin sleeping pants. His chest looked sinewy, muscled but lightly built, like his father. "What time is it?"
"It's late," Tae admitted. "I need to talk to you. Please come."
Subikahn yawned again. "Just a moment." The door swung shut.
Tae heard muffled voices through the wood. Subikahn had always shared his room with his Renshai torke, even as a toddler. For the first time, Tae found himself despising the arrangement. Was this the first time a Renshai took advantage of my son? The idea enraged him. He had obliviously allowed adults to share a room with his boy; that made it partially his fault. That Kevral and the other Renshai trusted those teachers should not have been enough. Teeth gritted, Tae waited until the door finally swung open. A now-robed Subikahn scooted out and pushed it closed before Tae managed to catch a glimpse of Talamir.
Subikahn shook his head, worsening the tangle that comprised his hair. "Where are we going?"
"The library." Tae wanted to take the young prince as far from his bedroom and the court as possible. He did not want any sound to betray the other part of his plan. "We're going to the library." He headed off in the proper direction.
Subikahn followed, clutching his robe. "To talk."
"To talk," Tae confirmed.
"In the middle of the night."
"Apparently."
That shut down the conversation. Subikahn continued to trail Tae's brisk pace without speaking, and they both moved with a delicate, silent step down the hallways, up the tower steps, and to the heavy oak door to the library. There, they paused, while Tae tripped the latch.
"Is this about Talamir?" Subikahn said as they entered.
The library appeared different in the darkness. The window seat lay empty, striped by the light of moon and stars.The shelving looked like animals hulking in the shadows. As much from habit as concern, Tae scanned the area to ascertain that they were alone, using the torch to banish shadows from every corner and cubby. He saw nothing out of place, every book as he had left it, every shelf as it should appear. Finally, he extinguished the torch, laid it aside, and claimed the window seat. He motioned Subikahn to the chair from the reading nook.
The boy accepted the seat, spinning it around to face his father. "You know I love you, Papa. I didn't mean to upset you." He sat, ramrod stiff and clearly nervous.
"I know." Tae stared through the window. He could see the empty courtyard clearly in the light of the half-moon. He was obsessively cautious by nature and would not allow anyone to overhear this conversation.
"You like Talamir. Don't you?" Subikahn's face looked childlike in the moonlight.
Tae sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Not at the moment, no."
"Papa, it's not his fault-"
"Subikahn-"
"I'm as much to blame-"
"Subikahn! Listen to me."
The young prince fell silent.
"We're not here to talk about Talamir. We're here to talk about you."
Subikahn nodded, lips tightly pursed.
Tae glanced at his own scarred and callused hands, knowing he had to broach subjects with which he never wanted to burden his son. "Subikahn, I grew up much differently than you did."
Subikahn bobbed his head again. That much, he knew.
"My father…"
"Granpapa Weile."
"Yes." Tae wished his son would stop interrupting. He had never enforced manners or formality, despite his advisers' suggestions. "Granpapa Weile… didn't have time for play. He only asserted how I had to stay tough, stay alert, stay quick to stay alive."
Subikahn tossed a glance around the room. "I know what you're trying to say, Papa. That it's a great privilege to grow up as a prince. And a great responsibility."
Tae went quiet a moment. Those words had not come from him. As king, he mostly delegated. He did not have the patience for long-winded noblemen, and he found their problems too petty to consider. He served mostly as a figurehead, and his advisers and elite warriors equated the positive things in the kingdom with him and the negative with other people or factors.
"That's true, Subikahn." Tae gave the boy an intent look, hoping to silence him. "But it's not what I planned to say."
"Are you going to tell me about… the scars?" Subikahn had pestered his father mercilessly for stories about the myriad and often fatal-looking wounds that covered Tae's scrawny body.
Tae caught himself self-consciously plucking at his garments to cover any bared flesh. Usually, he did not think about his many disfigurements. Scarcely anyone knew the cause of most of them, and he alone knew where every one had come from. He had laughed off or dodged his son's questions in the past. A child did not need to know the terrifying details. At only ten years old, Tae had found himself at the mercy of his father's enemies, forced to watch his mother raped and murdered before suffering sixteen stab wounds and being left for dead himself. It was not the last time enemies of Weile Kahn would leave their mark upon him, and he had honestly earned many of the other scars without his father's assistance.
"Not yet," Tae said, disappointing Subikahn once again. "My father and I have not always gotten along." It was gross understatement. Weile was a born leader with a knack for gaining followers and a grandness to his every action, while Tae preferred to live his life in the silent shadows. The worst and best things in his life always bore a direct connection to Weile Kahn. "And I swore that, when I had a son, things would be different. I would treat him with honor and respect. I would assure that he always knew his father loved him and would do anything for him. I never wanted him to feel alone."
"And I know that, Papa. I truly do." Subikahn seemed sincerely eager to quell his father's doubts. "No child has ever had a happier upbringing. Even Saviar is jealous."
Tae smiled, but the circumstances made it forced and crooked. "I'm glad to hear that. But, in the process of making you happy, I made a serious blunder."
Now, Subikahn finally fell into a hush, clearly focused on his father's next words.
"I coddled you too much, Subikahn. I was so intent on keeping your childhood happy that I shielded you from the necessary experiences that keep a young man from becoming a mark."
"A… mark?" Subikahn clearly did not understand, which was exactly Tae's point.
Tae leaned forward, his heart pounding. He still had a chance to retract his plan, to send his son back to bed confused but whole. Then, an image of his son's lifeless body swinging from the gallows filled his mind's eye, and he forced himself to continue, "It's the horrific things in life that make a man careful, wiser."
Subikahn laughed.
It was the last reaction Tae expected. He stopped speaking. And stared.
Subikahn explained. "Are you worried I'm too innocent to defend myself?"
Apparently, Subikahn had grasped the point. "Well…"
"Papa… I'm Renshai." Subikahn opened his robe to reveal a sword at his left hip, and little else. He had not bothered to put on clothes, but he would never go anywhere without his weapon. "And you've taught me plenty abou
t climbing and hiding and dodging. Hel's ice, some of what you've told me overlaps eerily with the Renshai training. And don't get me started on languages…"
In that light, Tae's concerns did seem a bit silly. Subikahn was not exactly the classic prince, lounging around the castle getting dressed and flattered by servants and eating too many peeled grapes. While Subikahn did not have his father's uncanny skill with languages, he did read and speak Eastern, Common, Western, Northern, and Renshai. Though Tae appreciated the ability to communicate with anyone anytime, his skill had often seemed as much a curse. Weile Kahn had exploited his son's talent at a very young age, using him to spy on strangers and enemies. No one ever suspected a child could understand so much.
"Those things will help you," Tae admitted. "But you can't become street-smart without challenging the street. And you can't become world-smart without facing the world."
Subikahn's brow furrowed. "So you want me to… travel?"
Tae remembered his own odyssey, fleeing the Eastlands with his father's most lethal enemies on his heels. He had had little combat training and nothing but the clothes on his back. Rarely eating, never sleeping, he had tried desperately to keep just a step ahead of death, his only goal one more moment of survival.
"But I've already gone to Erythane and back many many times."
Tae sighed. The situation had utterly changed since his father had banished him, at fourteen, with the words, "Come back when you're twenty. If you're still alive, all this will become yours." Weile had waved a hand toward Stalmize. At the time, Tae had believed his father meant his current business: organizing and leading bands of murderers, thugs, and thieves. Never had Tae imagined Weile would take over the kingdom itself and pass it along to his only child. As promised, at age twenty.
In less than two years, Subikahn would reach that same crucial age with little to show for it other than the Renshai training.
Tae cleared his throat, making the pronouncement he had dreaded. "Subikahn, for your own good, I am hereby banishing you from the Eastlands until you reach the age of twenty."
"What?" Subikahn's features lapsed into confusion. He seemed uncertain whether to be shocked or amused.
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