He didn’t understand why he was so upset. Sure, Hadrion had been Ren’s brother, but they’d had very little interaction. He’d seemed more Kheled’s friend during the winter they’d lounged in Tiro.
Almost unconsciously, Raimie’s gaze skittered over his friend, a mistake as it turned out. Keltheryl had assumed the distant, otherworldly look he donned whenever he was in the midst of experiencing trauma. Compared to that or to Kylorian’s devastation, to Ren’s yet to be realized loss, what was his pathetic grief?
Hadrion’s gap-toothed grin floated through his memory, but before he lost to despondency, the door opened once more.
Little didn’t bother commenting on the scene spread before him. He simply crouched and took Raimie’s hand, the single point of contact enough to stop his head from smashing against the wall.
“I bring you good news, Your Majesty. The Birthing Grounds are yours. The day is won.”
Raimie scanned the room full of hanging near-Kiraak, the mash of paste which had been an Enforcer and the corpse which had been a friend. He crookedly smiled before anguish dragged him, kicking and screaming, into the maelstrom of its relentless hold.
Interlude I: Apprehension
6th of Fifth, 3461
I’ve recently learned this is the proper way to open a journal entry. While I must admit I’ll miss the carefree manner in which I’ve written in the past, I also hope by beginning in such a small way, I can start acting as the court expects a fifteen-year-old crown prince should.
I’ll stop the pranks. I’ll stop making eyes at every available noble lady, but if they expect me to stop associating with my brother, they can kiss my…
The name of the brother I’d just discussed in my di- no, my journal made me jerk my quill from the paper.
“He brings nothing but embarrassment on this family!” mother shrieked, and I frowned.
Maybe I should wait for father elsewhere. He’d called me to his study for unknown purpose, and I’d been awaiting his summons, my journal to keep me company, when the disagreement had begun.
Mother and father had recently partaken in frequent rows, but when one started, it never failed. Someone would usher me away before I could discern the source of their disagreement. Today’s must be a plenty powerful stressor. I’d never before heard mother yell so loudly.
Father soothingly murmured to her, but mother refused to be calmed.
“I don’t like the boys associating. I want you to send him away.”
More murmuring along with wheedling penetrated the door’s thick wood.
“That’s not good enough! Have you considered maybe he’s the reason OUR son hasn’t summoned a splinter yet! Alouin knows you don’t deserve yours. Maybe Ele has placed the curse which should go to you on him instead!”
“That’s not how it works, and you know it!” father’s gruff voice rose to match hers.
The sudden quiet conveyed my own shock. Father NEVER raised his voice. I moved closer, curiosity spurring me.
“The nobles are talking,” mother continued. “If he doesn’t show some sign of Alouin’s favor soon, they’ll believe our family lost. The credence will be enough for one of the stronger families to instigate a revolt.”
“I’ve a plan to help our son, woman,” father informed her. “Leave it to me as you always do. Is there some other concern you wish to address at the moment? Because I’ve other problems on my plate besides your petty jealousy.”
Mother must have given a negative because father’s voice droned after only a slight pause.
“Then our audience is at an end. Send the crown prince to me on your way out.”
The doorknob turned, but before the barricade to the room could open, father spoke once more. “Will you ever forgive me?”
“For sleeping with that whore?” mother asked. “I might have in time, but I’ll NEVER forgive you for siring another child with her, thereby placing your family in danger. Your indiscretion has cost you the love and affection I once held.”
I needed to get away from the door. Eavesdropping was not only wrong and rude, but it was unbecoming of the heir to the throne. If I was caught…
“May I go, Your Majesty?” mother asked.
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
The door flung open, and she stormed through it. Her face reddened at the sight of me guiltily hovering.
“Your father will see you now,” she stated before gliding away.
I hadn’t been quick enough. She’d caught me, and now, I’d never live it down.
“Are you coming in, Your Highness?” father asked, and I sighed.
So, those were the roles we were to play today, were they? King and heir to the throne, not father and son?
“I wasn’t sure if you were ready for me, Your Majesty,” I said as I stepped inside.
As always, father’s study intimidated. The sitting area immediately beyond the door was innocuous enough, populated by its pair of comfy armchairs, a side table, and a sideboard topped with crystal decanters. Newfangled oil lamps with their self-contained flames lent the area a cozy atmosphere, strengthened by the shoulder high bookcase opposite the door which was packed with various reference materials.
What waited above the rows of books was what made a part of me quake like a child in the midst of a scolding. A pair of short, curved stairs on either side of the sitting area allowed access to the landing above the bookcase. A railing blocked my view of the desk which occupied that dais, and floor to ceiling, glass windows looked out over the city. Considering how tall the ceiling was, they made quite an ostentatious display of wealth.
The study was located on the side of the palace which extended over the cliff’s edge, and a lengthy drop hungrily awaited anyone foolish enough to test the windows’ strength.
Father perched in an armchair near the door, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I hated that unnerving view, avoiding it as much as possible.
“Your discussion with Her Royal Majesty seemed quite heated,” I continued.
“It was nothing,” father said, waving away my concern. “The Queen remains justifiably irate concerning Nebailie’s presence at court, but that’s not why I’ve called you here.”
“You want to discuss my lack of a splinter,” I guessed.
“Indeed. As you know, every monarch in Auden’s long history has been cursed with the presence of an Ele splinter. Our tolerated shame is made bearable by the populace’s refusal to call us ‘primeancers’, as is their right. They don’t to our face, at least,” father muttered to himself with a sour smile. “Rather, the priests insist on calling it ‘Alouin’s blessing’ instead. The distinction, along with the power granted by Ele, is why the Audish monarch is acknowledged as Alouin’s representative throughout the world. It’s also why I’m constantly forced to participate in inane religious rituals instead of useful statecraft.
“The Queen and I, as well as several prominent noble houses, are concerned that, at fifteen, the current heir to the throne has yet to exhibit any powers or tendencies associated with acquiring a splinter.”
“I don’t know what to tell His Majesty,” I grumbled. “I’ve done everything that’s asked of me in order to attract one. I apologize that my compliance has yet to draw Ele’s attention.”
“You mistake me!” father exclaimed. “I didn’t summon you to berate you for what others may perceive as failure. I intend to present a solution to the predicament.”
His confidence seized my attention. Father might understand the frustrations of Kinlith and others tasked with grooming me for the crown, but he couldn’t know mine. I kept the disappointment and self-loathing private, not even recording it in my journal.
No matter how much I strove to better myself, my efforts didn’t seem to matter. My destined splinter refused to come. If father could fix my dilemma, I’d be more grateful than he could know.
He gestured for me to join him, and I took a seat in the second armchair.
“You know Auden has been blessed
with many minor tears from which our economy grows and our society advances,” father stated.
“Of course,” I replied. “Kinlith has thoroughly schooled me in economics.”
To my utter and complete delight. The subject was the only one to ever thoroughly capture my attention during lessons.
“Something recently came through a tear. I believe it may bridge the gap between now and the time when your Ele splinter appears before you.”
Reaching over the armchair’s side, father retrieved a box hidden in shadows.
“What is it?” I asked.
Lifting the lid, he offered the box’s contents to me. “See for yourself.”
A pile of fine, gauzy fabric filled the box to the brim. Almost ethereal in nature, it appeared as if the slightest touch would dissolve the cloth into thin air. Upon hesitantly lifting it, I almost immediately dropped my hold. The glow of white light which the material produced lingered for a few moments before fading.
Fascinated, I poked it, and illumination rippled from my finger. I folded it around my forearm, and everywhere it touched flesh, the same phenomenon occurred. It was cold against my skin, metallic like my chainmail but also breezy. Best of all, it completely blended against my skin wherever the glow rose.
“I look like I hold Ele,” I whispered.
“That’s the idea.” Father smiled at my reaction. “We’ll have it tailored into suitable attire. Once finished, you can reveal it at a prominent public gathering, perhaps when the Eselan diplomat returns in a few weeks. Such a display should quash the rumors for a time.”
I carefully folded the precious fabric back into its box, vision blurring. Such relief as I’d never known flooded through me. The pressure of other’s expectations would soon lessen. Maybe I could now focus on other, more vital concerns.
Rising to my feet, I bowed, offering the box to my father.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I said. “I have no words to convey my appreciation.”
“No need for gratitude.” Father grimaced as he took the box. “Kinlith has kept me appraised of your progress with your studies. You’ve worked hard, and it’s prepared you for the role you’ll inherit some day. I won’t have the best candidate for the throne passed over because of a silly superstition, especially when Nebailie, the next in line, continues to shirk his duties. I’ll need to discipline him again soon.”
I bristled. “May I speak plainly?”
“Of course, son,” father said, allowing the transition of roles to parent and child.
“Neb only skips his lessons because Kinlith treats him with nothing but scorn, much like the rest of court,” I told him. “My brother’s smart, fast on his feet, and has fantastic reflexes. You should see the ways he avoids a fight. They’re quite ingenious at times. If you want him to succeed, something needs to change. His growth is stunted by the amount of hostility he daily battles here.”
Father hummed with surprise. “Is this true?” he asked. “Kinlith hasn’t adequately tutored your brother?”
I nodded emphatically. Our tutor claimed many admirable qualities, but his treatment of Nebailie was not one of them.
“Perhaps your mother’s right,” father mused. “Maybe the time has come for Nebailie to find his place outside of court.”
The idea chilled me. When my brother left, I’d lose my only true friend, but I couldn’t deny him a chance to leave a place where whispers and titters followed wherever he went.
“May I ask an awkward question, father?”
I honestly wasn’t sure if I could. We rarely spent time together since his schedule was clogged by the tasks necessary for running a nation. Mother had been the one to raise me.
“You can ask me anything, son!” father exclaimed. “You know that!”
It was as if he’d read my thoughts.
“Why does everyone treat Neb like he’s trash?” I asked, my mood darkening at the memories of snubs and insults. “I swear, if I see another group of nobles whispering about him behind their hands, I’ll- I’ll-”
“You’ll pretend not to see it,” father informed me. “You’ve inherited the burden of the throne which will prove more than enough for you to carry. Nebailie’s burden is that of my failing, and nothing I do will ever make it up to him.”
“Failing?” I asked. “What failing? You’re the King of Auden, the representative of Alouin.” You’re my father. “You can do no wrong.”
Father’s raucous fit of laughter doubled him over, and as it endured without an end in sight, I became concerned for his health.
“Thank you, son,” he gasped, wiping away tears. “I needed that.”
“You’re welcome?” I replied. “What was so funny?”
“What you said. I’m not perfect. Not in the least. I fail in multiple facets of life every day,” father grew sober, “but what you inquire after is quite possibly my biggest mistake. You see, I wasn’t faithful to your mother.”
He watched as realization swept over me, as mother’s recent behavior and the conversation I’d overheard fell into place. The nobles’ rude behavior, snide comments, and hurtful jokes clicked.
“I had my reasons for the transgression, and some of them were very good,” father continued, “but they don’t excuse-”
“Nebailie’s my half-brother?” I dazedly asked.
“Yes,” father answered after a pause.
“Who’s his mother?”
“A noble lady sent far away for the Queen’s sake.”
Nebailie. A stain on our family, a reminder of father’s misdeeds, a source of stress for mother. Maybe the nobles were right to treat him with such disdain.
No.
Nebailie. My. Little. Brother.
“It doesn’t matter,” I shrugged. “Thank you for sharing the truth with me, Your Majesty, and for the gift. Do you require anything more from me?”
Father seemed disappointed for some reason. What had he expected of me? Absolution? He wouldn’t find it here. He was, in essence, the source of my mother and brother’s suffering, and I’d never forgive him for that.
“You’re free to return to your studies,” father answered with a wave.
Hastily collecting my journal, I left without a word. I had so many new secrets to record.
Chapter Eleven
25th of First, 3467
I met my betrothed today. She accompanied the Eselan ambassador, an arrival which has been delayed by almost six years. Apparently, the Esela have experienced an internal conflict in that time which has only recently abated.
The woman I’m to marry is not of the Esela race, thank Alouin. Her name is Illasaya. She’s the first-born daughter of the King of Lyzencroft, the second, smaller nation to share a border with the territories the Esela claim as haven. Father hopes by intermingling the two nation’s royal bloodlines, Auden can exploit Lyzencroft’s bustling trade partnership with the enigmatic second race to populate our world.
But enough of the arrangement’s boring details. I’m sure you want to know my first impressions of her.
She’s quite beautiful. I can see why rumors abound concerning the men who’ve fallen for her, but she’s a bit of an odd duck as well.
When the ambassador’s party arrived at the palace, I mistook her for one of the guards. She rode her horse like a man, in breeches and everything. She even had a sword strapped to her belt! When making my greetings, I entirely ignored her which made our introduction rather awkward.
And she certainly speaks her mind! The first words from her mouth were disparaging comments about her new home’s state. She followed that up with several compliments directed at me, but the first exchange of words sapped any glow I might have typically felt from her appreciation.
Perhaps that was her intent. Maybe she’s just as wary of this marriage as I.
I intensely miss Neb in these moments. He’d help me determine whether this princess is intriguing or intolerable, but he’s on the other side of the kingdom hunting bandits.
I h
ope his stint in the military has helped him realize his self-worth. Some distance from those who disdain him should at least give him a chance.
I so very rarely hear from my brother. In my last letter, I begged him to come home during his next leave. I know he hates the palace, and for good reason, but I need him now more than ever. My duties as crown prince have overtaken every spare moment of my life. I need someone with whom I can share my frustrations besides a blank page which can’t talk back.
I should receive a reply soon. Then, I’ll know if the next months will bring a release of tension or if I must endure it longer. Hopefully, it will be the former rather than the latter.
Securing the Birthing Grounds and turning Kiraak to human were a welcome distraction for Raimie. Every slow, tenuous drag of Corruption from a man or woman’s body, every little task which required his input, delayed the time when he’d need to deal with Kylorian and the small knot of grief and guilt which beat against his mind’s defenses.
The current Kiraak he attempted to cleanse howled, and Raimie flinched. He must have missed a site where Corruption bit into the man’s body.
“Shit!” Raimie screamed as the man slumped into unconsciousness.
He lobbed the Daevetch ball he’d collected at the wall, and the strength of fury behind the strike blew a hole in it, surprising the soldiers scurrying by outside.
“Perhaps you should rest, sir,” Oswin suggested. “You’ve been at this a while.”
“How long?” Raimie asked.
He’d lost track of time in his flight from the pain which awaited.
“Almost an entire day,” Oswin answered.
“Really?” It hadn’t felt that long. He’d have guessed only a few hours had come and gone. “Remind me, Oswin, how many Kiraak wait to be converted?”
“You’ve worked through a large chunk of them already, sir. Several hundred remain, but…” Oswin sighed. “Forgive my presumption, Your Majesty, but you’re only one man. You’re beginning to make mistakes. If you keep going at this rate, you’ll hurt one of those you attempt to save. You need sleep.”
A King's Caution (The Eternal War Book 2) Page 19
