A King's Caution (The Eternal War Book 2)

by Brennan C. Adams

  “Her offer, sir?” Oswin asked.

  Raimie made a face. “She wants to marry me.”

  Snorting, Oswin devolved into outright laughter when he realized Raimie was serious. “Oh, simply priceless!” he gasped. “Good luck balancing her and Ren, sir.”

  Raimie swatted the spy’s shoulder. “I’ll be off then,” he told the guffawing man. “I expect you’ll be quick to follow me.”

  “Of course, sir!” Oswin gasped.

  Raimie strode for the door, drawing Ele to his legs and feet. He paused before crossing the threshold.

  “Oh! And I suppose you should tell Keltheryl where I’ve gone when you get the chance.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty!”

  Oswin bowed, and when he rose to his full height, Raimie was gone.

  Chapter Twelve

  Caution is an incredible asset in a monarch’s arsenal, but when situations call for decisive action, it should be tossed to the wind lest your people perish due to your cowardice.

  -Sephicus, Philosopher King of Lyzencroft

  The news of Raimie’s victory reached the city scant hours before his arrival. Eledis had never seen a people so enthralled by one man’s return. The throng undulated to the beat of their cheers, screaming a chant to honor the returning conqueror. Surprisingly, Raimie brushed through the celebrating masses and made a beeline for Riadur’s house, leaving the crowd disconcerted in his wake. They quickly realized, however, that they needn’t stop their revels simply because the guest of honor wasn’t in attendance. Music and laughter soon drifted from their midst.

  Eledis thought Raimie meant to report to him, considering the unexpected news he must carry, but the kid bypassed him with only a single, venomous glance. He closed on the room where his father relaxed, firmly shutting the door behind him. After deciding to wait for the kid in the glorious spring weather, Eledis paced the outside square for hours, but Raimie never emerged from Riadur’s house.

  When the sun achieved its peak in the sky, frustration reached a breaking point, and he stormed away from the house before he attempted to break the door down with his fists. Over the years, he’d learned when to step back and breathe before his temper made an inconvenient mess, and this was one of those times.

  His frustrations were completely valid. A foreign army had landed at Nephiron, conquered the city, and moved on to the Birthing Grounds to do Alouin knew what to the people with whom his family had allied. The army must not be hostile, considering Raimie lived, but Eledis had yet to receive any information concerning its origins or leaders.

  Curiosity and dread nagged at him, and he tried to ignore the aberrant emotions while aimlessly wandering Tiro’s streets. The hidden city’s citizens went about their business without a care in the world. Many of them had joined the morning’s revels without a clue as to their cause.

  Eledis envied them. Their simple lives appealed in a way others couldn’t. Not that he’d trade the power and privilege of his position for their simplicity. It wasn’t an option.

  By the time the sun touched the horizon, he'd wound up at the city’s gate. The temptation to activate the mechanism which opened the doors and dart outside was incredibly alluring. Tiro was a nice enough city, but it wasn’t home. He’d stayed here too long.

  He needed a sense of progress, to feel as though his goal drew ever closer, and spending hour after hour researching and composing multiple variations of the same battle plan didn’t relieve that need in the slightest.

  A commotion in the gate house spilled into the street. Two cloth-swaddled people angrily argued with one another, unaware of how far their voices carried.

  “I know they’re grieving, but this requires their attention,” one snapped.

  “I don’t know,” the other said. “Maybe we could consult with Raimie instead. Both Kylorian and Ren seem to trust him.”

  “Perhaps they did before the bastard murdered Hadrion. Besides, this is our city,” the first hissed. “I won’t allow a foreigner to make such a decision for us.”

  “What seems to be the problem?” Eledis asked as he joined them.

  “You see?” the first man asked. “This is what I mean! Another foreigner, most notably him, sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  “I only want to help,” Eledis said.

  “Fat lot of good your help has ever done us! We don’t need it!”

  Eledis would love to argue that point, to present the many accomplishments his people had achieved for the Audish citizenry in only a few months, but he knew better than to try to argue with someone displaying such fanatical tendencies.

  “Look,” he said instead, “why doesn’t one of you retrieve your illustrious leaders while the other explains the problem to the stupid foreigner? I’ll stick around until the mystery’s revealed itself, and you won’t want to explain why I’m hovering when Kylorian, Ren, or, Alouin forbid, Riadur shows up.”

  The angry one fumed, but the other laid a hand on his shoulder. “It’s a good idea. I’ll have him gone before you return.”

  “Fine!” the angry man exclaimed, turning on his heels and storming away.

  “Please forgive him, Eledis,” the other murmured. “He’s actually ecstatic to have gained extra help from your people but disappointed your family has so quickly accomplished goals we’ve chased for years.”

  “You know who I am?” Eledis asked.

  “It’s hard not to,” the cloth-swaddled figure chuckled, the noise unnerving without an expression of mirth to accompany it. “I’d say the whole of Auden knows who you are even if your face has aged.”

  “And you don’t hate me?”

  “I never said I didn’t! But I recognize you’re trying to help us. Whatever I feel for you can be cast aside for the moment,” the man informed Eledis. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you what caused such a commotion.”

  They climbed the gatehouse’s staircase, and at the top, Eledis’ guide indicated he should peek his head around the corner.

  Evening’s rusty glow cast the forest outside into a fairytale setting, replete with mournful birdsong and rustling leaves. The sun painted the sky between crags in brilliant purples, oranges, and reds, a final farewell before the ball of fire died for the night.

  On the other side of the wall, three depleted horses trembled, their flanks heaving. Two of their riders nervously shifted atop them. The third, a breathtakingly gorgeous woman, tilted her head back and impatiently stared at Tiro’s nearly invisible doors as if she could open them with the force of her mind.

  “They rode up to the gate not long ago and have waited there, unmoving, ever since.”

  “You should let them in,” Eledis told the man. “Don’t wait for your leaders. Let them in now.”

  “What? Why?!”

  Eledis pointed. “That woman is the Queen of Ada’ir. You may not have heard of it, but across the sea, Ada’ir is the most militarily powerful realm currently in existence. I’m not sure why she’s in Auden, but I do know she’s brought an army with her. You can wait to allow her entrance if you like, but I guarantee if you do, she’ll use her army, once it catches up, to force her way into your hidden city.”

  The man grumbled unpleasant complaints under his breath, but he wandered over to pull a lever. Pulleys and winches activated and turned, and the doors cracked open.

  Eledis raced down the stairs, nearly taking a tumble in his haste to reach the bottom. He burst from the gatehouse right when the three riders trotted into Tiro.

  The Queen’s bodyguards viewed the city with distrust, hands on hilts, but Kaedesa’s eyes gleamed. She took in everything-the doors disguised as a cliff face, the dusty streets, the lanterns hanging from ropes strung between buildings, the vast canopy of lattice and ivy overhead-and laughed with delight.

  She turned her glee on him, and Eledis released a quick prayer to Alouin, but no recognition flicked across her face. Instead, it subtly darkened, distrust creeping into her joy, but the change was so small only one who kn
ew her well would notice it.

  “Your Majesty.” Eledis shallowly bowed.

  Here, he’d no need to display the deference he’d given while in Ada’ir. He was no longer at her mercy. In Auden, they could claim equivalent power and status.

  “Do I know you?” she asked.

  “My name is Eledis,” he replied. “You recently held me captive with the intent of executing my grandson and me.”

  “Oh, yes!” she exclaimed after a short nod from her guard. “You must forgive me. So many matters of state occupy my time that details regularly slip through the cracks, and I hope you’ll also grant me forgiveness for the imprisonment. I’m sure I had a legitimate reason for it at the time.”

  Another nod from the guard.

  Eledis could forgive her. He wanted to forgive her, but having Kaedesa in his debt could prove useful.

  “Why are you here?” he asked.

  “Has Raimie not told you?” she asked with surprise. “I suppose he’ll get to it in his own time. My business is with him, not you, although…”

  She dismounted, and an acute sense of déjà vu swept over Eledis. Without the skirts to hide them, her riding breeches accentuated every curve of her legs and hips as she swung down. Distracted by her unusual yet distinctly familiar choice of clothing, he missed her unbuckling a scabbard from her belt. She tossed it to him, and he reflexively caught it.

  “Raimie wanted you to have it,” Kaedesa said as she turned to her saddlebags.

  She rummaged in their depths in order to retrieve a thin journal. After making several marks in it, she returned it to its place.

  Meanwhile, Eledis unsheathed the sword, and immediately, all was right with the world. He wheeled the blade through the air, flicking the point this way and that. Other swords might come close to perfection, but this… this was a flawless balance of power and weight. No other sword ever felt as comfortable as wielding Shadowsteal.

  “Thank you for returning it,” Eledis said, his gratitude deepening his bow further than he’d intended.

  “I’m only complying with your grandson’s request,” Kaedesa replied. “I offered it to him first, but he refused.”

  “Why would you do that?!” Eledis nearly cried out. “It’s-” He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

  “It’s his sword,” Kaedesa shrugged as she faced him, “and honestly, I’m not comfortable giving it to you. Something about you…” She shuddered. “Now, where is your grandson? I need to remind him of the offer on the table.”

  Offer? Did she mean to help them? Her unanticipated assistance would make for an interesting turn of events.

  “I assume he’s with his father although he may have moved to consoling Ren. I hear she’s recently suffered a loss,” Eledis paused. Dare he ask? “May I inquire as to what you’ve proposed?”

  Kaedesa handed her horse’s reigns to a guard while the other joined her on the ground. “A marriage alliance,” she told Eledis, and he turned cold. “I thought we could combine…”

  Her mouth continued to move, but he couldn’t hear her. Without realizing what he was doing, he crossed to her and snatched her shoulders, fingernails digging into flesh.

  “You can’t, ‘Saya!” he growled. “I tolerated the marriage to the king of Ada’ir, but this is… It’s WRONG!”

  Hands dragged him from her, and he let them. They shoved him to his knees, arms bent painfully against his back.

  Confusion muddled Kaedesa’s face, and something desperately fought to break free. Clarity resolved for the briefest of moments, and two pits of green ice pierced Eledis’ soul.

  “You don’t get to tell me what to do with my life, Eledis. You lost that right a long time ago. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you’ve forgotten my recent mandate, so let me remind you once more.

  “If you ever loved me, stay out of my business and my life. I can’t have you near me. Do you understand?”

  “’Saya, I-” Eledis wheedled.

  “Do you understand?” she interrupted.

  Resistance built in his chest, and he found it hard to breathe, but he managed to cough an affirmative. The veil of confusion lowered, and Kaedesa inquisitively tilted her head at him.

  “You said Raimie’s most likely with his father. Where can I find that man?”

  After wearily giving her directions, Eledis watched her skip down Tiro’s streets, head swiveling side to side to take in the sights.

  “It’s been a long ride,” the lone, abandoned guard said from atop his mount. “I must find somewhere to stable the horses, but after I’ve completed that task, may I join you for a drink? I’m sure you know the finest ale houses in the city.”

  “What makes you think I want a drink?” Eledis asked.

  The guard chuckled, eyeing him knowingly. “Anyone would need to get plastered after such a lecture, especially from her. Will you wait?”

  Eledis nodded, but when the guard disappeared from view, he considered simply returning to his makeshift office. Plenty of logistical problems slipped through the cracks of Raimie’s daily efforts, eventually to cross his desk. He should head there and get to work, but his feet wouldn’t move, and when the guard came sauntering back, Eledis found the other man had been right. He did need a drink.

  * * *

  “Laest one fur evening, uld maen,” Sigemond declared in his peculiarly accented voice.

  Thumping a full tankard before Eledis, he returned to his other customers.

  “I’m… not old!” Eledis shouted. “Sho rude!”

  The guard who’d originally accompanied him to the tavern had long departed, giving some bullshit excuse about duty to Kaedesa. After his abandonment, Eledis had left as well, intending not to make a fool of himself, but then, he’d encountered Raimie in the training yard, and… Suffice it to say their chance meeting hadn’t gone well. With an aching back and a limp, he’d haltingly returned to the comfort of the tavern and its wares.

  Folding around his mug, Eledis slurped at the foam ballooning at its lip. What made the barkeep think he could be cut off? He was royalty! By rights, he should imbibe all the ale! If he were king-!

  Well, if he were king, circumstances would be much different. Eledis could feel himself growing maudlin, and he tossed back his drink.

  “Play a cheerier tune, damn it!” he shouted at the bard in the corner, contentedly strumming his lute.

  “His playing’s fine! Go home if you don’t like it, old man!” an unseen patron shouted back.

  Eledis shot to his feet, clinging to the tabletop while the tavern spun. “I am NOT old!” he shouted. “Who said that? Come! Shay it to my face!”

  Smiling indulgently, the tavern’s patrons returned to their drinks. Even Sigemond smirked while he wiped his damn glasses clean with his damn dirty rag.

  “Attend me, you worthless peasants!”

  The room erupted with laughter.

  “I could have your heads!” Eledis roared, drawing Shadowsteal.

  Immediately, the tavern stilled, patron’s quiet titters as loud as panicked screams. Everyone knew drawing a weapon in a tavern was the most anathema of taboos. Put a sharp edge in the hands of a drunk, and someone was liable to get hurt or dead.

  The door banged open. “There you are!”

  Whirling, Eledis stumbled, bringing Shadowsteal to bear on the intruder.

  “I apologize for my friend, Sigemond!” Marcuset commented as he strode toward Eledis, eyes locked with his. “He’s never been the most amenable drunk.” Stopping outside Eledis’ reach, he crossed his arms. “Put it away,” he demanded.

  So, the commander wanted to play that game, did he?! Well, royalty could play at staring just as well as the soldier! He could meet those judging, pitying, concerned…

  Sheathing Shadowsteal, Eledis hung his head. Marcuset stepped forward, grabbed his arm, and dragged him toward the door.

  “Some coin for your trouble.” His friend’s voice mingled with the jingle of chits sliding against one another.
“Please don’t let the King hear of this.”

  Sigemond heaved a huge sigh, and coin scraped against wood. “He’s nu lunger welcome in bar,” the barkeep warned.

  “Fair enough.”

  Eledis stumbled down the porch stair, and Marcuset slung his arm over his shoulders, miraculously keeping him from planting his face in stone. They shuffled down deserted streets until they found an empty doorway in which to slump.

  “How dare he forbid me from his eshtablishment!” Eledis mumbled. “Such a transhgression demands fitting punishment! I should return and give him a piece of my mind!”

  “Don’t bother. I doubt he cares what you have to say,” Marcuset panted. “Besides, I’ve already devised an appropriate punishment.”

  A liquor bottle of excellent quality appeared in Marcuset’s hand, but Eledis was too drunk to appreciate its value.

  “This ish why people don’t like Eshela,” Eledis slurred. “Magic ish simply cheating, would make thieving like that sho much easier, and you’re full of it tonight.”

  “How else do you mean?” Marcuset asked as he uncorked the bottle and took a swig. He offered it to Eledis.

  “I mean, you’re shupposed to be at the Birthing Grounds which is at least a hundred miles away.” Eledis tilted the bottle back, and fire scoured his mouth. He smiled. Now he could appreciate the liquor’s quality.

  “Before deserting us, Kaedesa lent us horses in case of emergency. I figured the two of you meeting qualified as an emergency, so I followed as soon as I could. It seems I wasn’t fast enough.”

  “Then, who’sh in charge at the Birthing Grounds?” Eledis asked.

  “Oswin,” Marcuset drawled as if the answer was obvious.

  “Oh. Good choice!” Taking another swig, Eledis handed the bottle back.

  Marcuset sipped at amber liquid, glittering eyes assessing his friend. “A question’s been eating at me for a while, Eledis,” he began.

  “What’sh that?”

  “I know you’ve plans in Auden,” Marcuset stated, “but I’m unsure if any of them end with Raimie alive.”