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

by Brennan C. Adams

  Oswin’s jaw tightened, and the dagger disappeared to be replaced with a key.

  “I’m almost certain a traitor lurks within our ranks,” Oswin informed him while he unlocked the shackle. “I’ve received reports… Well, let’s say I’ve good reason for my suspicions. The trouble is, I don’t know for whom this unknown spy works. The only nation we’ve ever given cause for retribution has become our greatest ally. We should be beneath the notice of everyone else, too broken from years of tyranny for any other nation to desire our land.”

  “It’s Doldimar. Has to be,” Raimie stated, rubbing his wrist.

  Stiffening, Oswin fell into the posture of a soldier addressing a superior. “As you say, sir.”

  “What? Not going to tell me to let it go? That two years have passed since the Dark Lord disappeared? That whatever drove him from Uduli must have scared him away for good? Everyone else enjoys mocking my continued belief that Doldimar watches us. Why not you too?” Raimie asked.

  “I’d never think to question your wisdom regarding the Dark Lord, sir,” Oswin answered. “Although, if I were you, I might consider straightening up the evidence of your obsession with his past.”

  “Why is that?” Raimie asked.

  “Kaedesa has returned from Ada’ir, and she’s eager to speak with you. I believe she mentioned something about wedding plans?” Oswin raised an eyebrow.

  Oh, gods.

  “Where is she?” Raimie asked. “I have to… Gods. I need to hide.”

  “You could shade meld elsewhere,” Nylion suggested.

  True but that would be running away. Hiding, he could stomach. Running from the problem, however…

  “How is hiding going to do you any good, sir?” Oswin asked. “She’ll eventually find you.”

  “Where is she?!” Raimie demanded.

  “You see, that’s why I told you to straighten up,” the spy replied with a wicked grin. “She should be nearing the door. Give it a second.” Backing to the stair’s head, Oswin gestured. “May I present Her Royal Majesty, Queen Kaedesa of Ada’ir.”

  The door flung upon, and the woman herself stormed inside.

  “There you are,” she snapped.

  “Hello, Kaedesa, I wasn’t aware you'd graced our shores with your presence,” Raimie managed to reply through a tight throat.

  “Cut the bullshit, Raimie. You know why I’m here. When’s the wedding? Have you set a date?” Auntie Kaedesa demanded.

  “If I recall correctly, you’re the one who was supposed to make the arrangements.”

  “I did, and I have, and I still wait for you,” Auntie Kaedesa snapped. “How long will you keep me in suspense?!”

  “I-I wanted to guarantee you receive everything for which you bargained,” Raimie stammered, taken aback by her intensity. “I’m not yet officially King of Auden despite the long list of people who insist on calling me 'Your Majesty.'”

  “Why is that?” Auntie Kaedesa asked. “Still awaiting the people’s decision between you and that upstart, Kylorian? Really, Raimie, you should have determined by now that you’ve definitively captured your subjects’ loyalty. Stop delaying what comes next! You’ve spent enough time on your silly projects! Using your primeancy to restore roads and villages, your fighting prowess to eliminate bandits, and your diplomatic skills to forge alliances with the Matvai, of all people! Alouin, Raimie! You’re already doing the king’s job. Take up the position in truth!”

  Raimie calmly blinked, waiting for more. “Oh, are you finished?” he asked when nothing else emerged. “I planned to next inform you that we'd set an investiture date. I’d request the wedding wait until after I’m King. That way, when we marry, you’ll truly be Queen of Auden.”

  “And Ada’ir,” she snapped, clearly unhappy about something besides the delay.

  “Are you not pleased?” Raimie asked, cocking his head. “I thought this was what you wanted, Auntie.”

  The nickname slipped through his natural guardedness, so confused and irritated was he, and Kaedesa flinched.

  “Why do you call me that?” she whispered to herself. “Why is it so familiar?” Then her attention was on him once more. “Is something wrong with me?” she asked. “I know I’m at least moderately pretty, and I bring enormous wealth and influence to the table. So why has this marriage been resisted and delayed at every step? Why has it been two years and we’re still in the midst of betrothal? What is wrong with me?”

  “Nothing!” Raimie shouted before she could dissolve into hysterics. “You’re absolutely gorgeous, desirable in every way. I’m lucky to have you.”

  “Then why-?”

  Raimie couldn’t look at her as he lied. “I’m simply not ready to be tied down.”

  With the sudden cessation of their quarrel, their gasps loudly echoed against the study’s tall ceiling.

  “Liar.” The door slammed behind Kaedesa.

  “I didn’t know we had an investiture planned, sir,” Oswin eventually remarked, obviously holding laughter back with difficulty.

  “I don’t. Eledis does. And she’s right,” Raimie murmured. “The people have chosen, but I’ve delayed acknowledging it because… well, because I’m terrified.”

  He met the spymaster’s gaze.

  “Understandable, sir,” Oswin said.

  The spy’s tone pricked Raimie’s pride. He bit back a host of scathing remarks.

  “I suppose I should find Eledis and ask him to finish his preparations,” he admitted instead. “Do you plan to follow me? Even in the palace?”

  “Don’t worry, sir, I’ll be discreet,” Oswin assured him.

  “In that case, I won’t leave you in my dust.”

  “Much appreciated, sir.”

  Raimie strode the now familiar, eerie palace halls toward Eledis’ quarters, and true to his word, Oswin nonchalantly trailed him at a distance, disappearing amongst the slow-moving flow of people when they reached a more populated floor.

  He’d officially agreed to become King of Auden. How had that happened? When he’d accepted the role years ago, before the chaotic months of battle and death, he’d kept hidden in the back of his mind the certainty that eventually someone would take it from him. His belief had never been fulfilled, despite his hopes with Kylorian. Even now, he expected someone to step forward, announcing a greater claim to the throne, but no such disturbance disrupted his path. Instead, every step closer to Eledis became another shovelful of dirt which buried him beneath the prestigious position he’d never sought.

  A hand on his elbow guided him into a side passage, and Raimie cast an annoyed look at Oswin.

  “I know I said I’d be discreet, but you should see this,” the spymaster explained.

  They slipped through an exterior door, immediately setting foot in the gardens. Although ‘gardens’ wasn’t necessarily the best word for the palace’s piece of paradise. Kheled’s jungle had been partially tamed since the victorious (awful) day of Uduli’s liberation. The only concession to the gardens’ visitors was a slight trimming of grass and low-hanging branches, an allowance which permitted a pleasant stroll, but other than that, the jungle remained untouched.

  Oftentimes, Udulians visited the gardens to commune with nature or to enjoy the hush which the tall trees provided by blocking out city noise. As a general rule, Raimie avoided them-too many bad memories-but today, he was grateful Oswin had prompted the detour.

  Within the jungle’s fringes, a woman lay on a blanket with her eyes closed and her black hair strewn behind her. As usual, she prompted desire and comfort within him, but this time, a deep, roaring anger buzzed as well. He hadn’t seen Ren since the night he’d returned to Tiro from the Birthing Grounds.

  “Thank you,” Raimie murmured to Oswin.

  He didn’t question how the spymaster had known Ren was here, only counted himself lucky to have the man on his side.

  “You’re welcome,” Oswin replied. “Happy birthday.”

  Every muscle in Raimie’s body clenched, and he stiffly f
aced the spy. A teasing grin covered Oswin’s face, and Raimie’s hands curled into fists.

  “We’ve talked about this,” he said. “Birthdays aren’t special for me. They’re just another day.”

  “I know, but this gift was too good to neglect giving you.”

  “You say that every time!” Raimie exclaimed.

  “Maybe I want to see how long it takes before you lose your temper and punch me.”

  “Don’t tempt me,” Raimie warned.

  “Isn’t that the whole point, sir?”

  Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply, repeatedly clenching and opening his hands.

  “Stay here,” he commanded the spy and was surprised when the man obeyed.

  Ren was upright as he approached, warily watching his every move. Raimie stopped outside her blanket’s perimeter.

  “Ren,” he said with a nod.

  “Raimie,” she replied. “What was that about?” She gestured to Oswin.

  “Oh. It was nothing. He wished me a happy birthday,” Raimie answered.

  “It’s your birthday?!” There. A minuscule glimpse of her bubbly side poked through.

  “Apparently.”

  “Why do you sound so sour about it?” Ren asked.

  “I don’t like birthdays is all. May I sit?” Raimie pointed to the blanket beside her.

  “Be my guest.”

  He settled, trying not to overanalyze their first interaction’s awkwardness.

  “It’s been a while,” she said.

  “Yes, it has. A couple years or so, I believe. How have you been?”

  “Oh, you know. I’ve mostly followed Kylorian around Auden. Making sure he doesn’t get himself killed like Hadrion.” Her voice tightened at the mention of her younger brother.

  “I’m sorry,” Raimie muttered.

  “Why do you do that?” she asked. “Take the blame for tragedies which aren’t your fault, I mean.”

  What could Raimie say? That he believed he must partially take the blame for Hadrion’s death? If he confessed such remorse, Ren would want to know why he thought he was at fault, and he’d have to lie to her. The truth was forbidden her, its contents involving secrets she could never learn. No one could know of Nylion. The last time they’d declared his presence to the world, those closest to them had snuffed Nylion from Raimie’s life. So, better to brush the subject away, even if doing so was sure to banish her skittish willingness to speak with him.

  “You should tell her,” Nylion said from where he sat cross-legged in the grass. “Do not give me that incredulous look! You told Kheled against my wishes, and none of my fears concerning your choice came to pass. Perhaps we can trust Ren as well. I believe she is ready to know of me. Tell her. She should have the truth. What is the worst that could happen? She rejects us again?”

  If you’re sure…

  Rolling his eyes, Nylion moved to sit beside Raimie. His other half placed a hand on his knee, and a glow of reassurance and gentle prodding filled him to the brim. It was almost enough to negate his trepidation.

  “Hadrion’s death was my fault,” Raimie informed a now quizzical Ren. “Nyl got distracted by Daevetch’s emotional carryover, and I couldn’t reassert control in time. Maybe if I had, the Enforcer would never have trapped Hadrion.”

  Ren stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “I’m confused,” she confessed. “Who’s Nyl?”

  Flopping onto his back, Raimie let the calming movement of branches in the wind distract him from an apprehension which was rapidly gaining in strength.

  “That requires a very long explanation, and I don’t know if you’re ready for it,” he sighed.

  Ren lay on her stomach, head supported by elbow propped hands. “Try me.”

  So, he did. He told her about his childhood, about the ever-present Nylion and their brief years happily spent together. Haltingly, he described their bond, their oneness of personality and mind, and how it had been everything to them. He explained how his other half became the big brother he’d never had, his protector and the one who was there with advice whenever life seemed impossible. He shared with her the ceremony performed on his birthday which had both killed his mother and torn them apart, as well as occluding his memories. The long process to find Nylion again. His joy at being made whole once more. His fury at those who’d broken them apart in the first place.

  The tale quickly came to a close, and Raimie focused on exactly how much he didn’t care what she thought. Ren had been the one to stunt the growth of anything good which might have flourished between them, and therefore, her opinion didn’t matter, but his insistence that he didn’t eagerly await her reaction was a lie he told himself to soothe the hurt.

  Plenty of other women had crossed Raimie’s path in the years since the time of them. Peasant girls who’d quite literally thrown themselves at him after he’d saved their village from bandits, town mayors who’d attempted to use their bodies to curry favor, the occasional palace maid who’d worked up the courage to slip into his study while he slept. Despite his best intentions, some of these casual relationships had blossomed into brief, sweet flings, although he was always cautious to end them before irreversible mistakes were made. He was promised to another, after all.

  He told himself his betrothal was the reason no woman held his interest for more than a month, but the truth was, none of those relationships had felt quite right. All of them lacked some spark, some hunger, some sense of belonging. Problem was, he knew exactly who he wanted, and because she could never be his, he’d desperately gone searching elsewhere. Gods, the description made him sound like a heartbroken, teenage girl, but it was what he’d done and how he’d felt. He couldn’t deny it. Ren’s opinion of him carried enormous weight.

  Her face was scrunched, and Raimie couldn’t tell what that meant. Was it a display of disbelief? Fear?

  “You’re telling me another person is trapped inside the man I know as Raimie?” she asked.

  That seemed a bit oversimplified, but, “Yes.”

  “Can I meet him?” she asked, eyes lighting up.

  Not what he’d expected. “You don’t think me insane?” Raimie asked, cringing as the words emerged from his mouth.

  Ren laughed. She laughed. “Oh, Raimie,” she gasped. “I’ve thought you crazy from the time you decided to face Teron instead of running. Now, I’ve final proof my suspicions were valid. Guess what?”

  “…What?”

  She leaned closer to him, mischievously grinning. “I don’t care,” she whispered before straightening, laughter consuming her again at Raimie’s look. “Alouin, you people from Ada’ir don’t understand, and you never will. The Audish live with insanity on a daily basis, although I suppose it’s considerably lessened since Doldimar disappeared. So you say there’s another person in you head. You know what, Raimie? It. Doesn’t. Matter. What does is your actions. How you, even with this ‘Nyl’ in your head, live your life. That is all. that. matters. So, again I ask. Can I meet him?”

  “Uh…” Raimie looked toward Nylion, unsure what to do. As usual, Ren was breaking his expectations.

  “Why not?” Nylion shrugged.

  “…sure,” Raimie agreed.

  As always, when Nylion took control, the entire world seemed to jolt, and once more, he was stuck within their body, watching through their eyes. The experience would have been utterly terrifying if he didn’t completely trust his other half.

  How do you want me to act with her? The question resounded in their head.

  This was why his trust existed. Nylion would never intentionally cause a disruption in Raimie’s life, even though he was the one trapped inside their head.

  Do as you wish, Nyl. I doubt you can damage whatever may have existed between Ren and me any more than it already is, Raimie answered.

  For some reason, the answer panicked Nylion. Shifting their body, he awkwardly sat up.

  “Hello,” he nervously said, extending their hand to her.

  She also sat up and extend
ed a hand, although it didn’t touch his. “Hello!” she greeted.

  What is she-?

  They don’t shake hands in Auden, remember? Raimie answered. Ren’s trying to greet you in a manner which makes you comfortable, but she doesn’t understand this particular custom of Ada’ir’s. Don’t worry. I did the same thing to Hadrion when we first met.

  Ah. So-?

  Lower the hand and wait to see what she says next.

  Nylion followed his suggestion, although Raimie could feel his unease with the silence.

  “You’re Nylion?” Ren asked, peering uncertainly into their eyes.

  “You may call me Nyl,” Raimie’s other half confirmed.

  “Nice to meet you, Nyl.” Ren smiled, eyes twinkling. “Oh! I meant to ask Raimie. Is that Nyl as in-?”

  “Nothing,” Nylion confirmed. “The nickname is a private joke between us since that is what I am, nothing more than a voice in our head.”

  Nyl! How can you say that? Raimie gasped while Ren laughed.

  “Sorry,” she said when their arms protectively crossed over their chest. “I find the idea you’re nothing a little funny, considering you speak with me right now.”

  Nylion shifted, hugging their arms tighter. “Forgive my lack of social graces, Ren. I am afraid I do not receive many chances for pleasant conversation besides those I share with Raimie,” he said in an attempt to change the subject.

  No wonder he was so nervous! Raimie had never considered what being trapped in their head might mean for his other half. Did Nylion get lonely up here? How horrid must those nine years by himself have been, absent their bond!

  Why do you think I so badly hunger for vengeance? Nylion asked of Raimie.

  Of Ren, he said, “I hope you can excuse any social gaffs I may display.”

  “You’ve done nothing of the sort!” Again, Ren laughed. “So far, you’ve been quite pleasant.”

  “Then, forgive me once more, but I must ask you a discomfiting question.” Nylion shifted their eyes downward. “I hope you do not mind.”