by J. C. Owens
It took them a mere half hour to complete the list of the first twenty-four to be disqualified.
The sheer foolishness of this ancient custom grated on Zaran’s nerves, but he cast it aside, as he always tried to do whenever emotion rose to the surface. Emotion led to all manner of mistakes, for a wide variety of reasons. Anrodnes’s history was littered with the examples of what emotion was capable of doing to a strong, otherwise logical man.
His older brother, Taldan, so perfect an example of what a leader should be, had taught him well, and he longed to emulate him enough to gain their father’s approval.
Their father, the emperor, hidden behind the metal mask that denoted his divinity, showed nothing. It could not be discerned what he was thinking, feeling. By strict tradition, the emperor was kept separate from much of the imperial court, but perhaps now that he was stepping aside for Taldan to take his place, things would change.
Or perhaps that was another foolish dream. Soon Taldan would wear their father’s mask. Would it make him as distant and cold?
Zaran’s grandfather had been the one to see that raw emotions could not be allowed to interfere with the glory that was the Anrodnes Empire. He himself had used a lack of emotion to his advantage, had doubled the size of the empire and brought rebellious provinces to heel with cold, brutal efficiency.
He had taught their father, Emperor Demarin, harsh lessons, lessons that had been given in full to both Taldan and Zaran, but now, a grown man, Zaran tried to be grateful for those lessons.
Taldan had decided to abide by this ludicrous custom of choosing a bondmate before he received the magic of the Illumitae, since it was expected, and in the end, it would have no effect on him. Nothing ever did. As the second prince, Zaran had his role to play in this farce, and for his beloved brother, he would gladly waste his time to ensure that the best candidate was chosen. Once that distasteful task was complete, Zaran could return to all that he counted as important, while Taldan, the heir, soon to ascend the throne upon their father’s retirement, could immerse himself in his studies, his gathering of knowledge.
That was his brother’s power.
Zaran mused on his brother as he watched the men below. Others believed the imperial heir to be more than human, beyond any normal judgment. Zaran knew better. Taldan had an utterly ruthless nature, but then, he had found that once you discounted emotional responses, decisions were amazingly simple, pared down to logic.
They had both been taught well.
Like Taldan, Zaran had struggled against the burden of emotion when he was younger, but with time, and training, he had finally gained a strength of mind to move beyond such a useless concept.
There were times when he faltered, let feelings through… He shook his head at the thought. Now this Choosing was a task to fulfill, in his brother’s name. He would not fail his brother. He would help find Taldan a Chosen who would bring honor and strength and talent to the imperial court, who would increase the glory of the empire.
But so far he wasn’t impressed. There were artists and soft courtiers and the sons of rich merchants. Perhaps the strongest of them was a mage who glanced around the room with an imperious gaze. He shook his head, his gaze falling on one candidate who was busy staring at the mosaics on the floor as if they were the most impressive things he’d ever seen. How odd. The young man was handsome enough, with curly black hair and intensely green eyes. There was something alluring about that particular candidate, although perhaps he didn’t have the obvious confidence to stand as the Chosen of the soon-to-be emperor. He seemed as lost in his own mind as Taldan often was…
He shook his head and returned his attention to the few he thought might have a chance.
CHAPTER THREE
Taldan
Taldan wrote out another phrase, frowning over the wording. His medical treatise on the effects of trauma to the brain was almost finished. A few more weeks of re-writing and it would be complete.
Of all the times for the Choosing to take place…
He cast aside the merest niggle of annoyance. He held greater control than that.
The announcement by his father of his impending retirement had been vexing, causing a ripple of emotion that Taldan did not wish to admit to. Before that, he’d had more time to himself, precious time to explore all the possibilities of the world around him. How things worked, why they worked. Science, politics, biology, psychology—all of it called to him.
Indeed, the calling was so strong that he held no concept of his physical body. If it were not for the only two people he trusted implicitly—his brother Zaran and Naral, his companion from childhood who was now the head of the capital city’s security—then he would be far less healthy than he was. It was an imbalance that frustrated him.
Balance was what he sought. In mind, body, and soul, so that he was in complete control of himself.
Yet, his body was consistently ignored, not with intent, but with the fact that his mind ranged far, far ahead of it, and it was difficult to return to the base needs that governed his flesh.
His goal was for the Anrodnes Empire to be the pinnacle of civilization, a gem among all countries, an example of what could be reached with the proper leadership and control and learning.
He could not understand the foolishness of those lands that governed themselves by the voice of the people. He had never seen such a group that voted with anything but their own ego and therefore led to an unwieldy, time-wasting system that weakened the country as a whole.
Those who had openly worked against Anrodnes in the past had been just such democracies. The idiocy that had convinced them to rise up against a powerful neighbor was lost in time, but their lands had done much better after being subsumed by Anrodnes. Their leadership now held no weaknesses, with their rulers chosen by Anrodnes’s royalty to pare them into efficiency. Their economies were strong, the people were looked after, medical aid was freely available and disease and poverty were almost completely eradicated.
The “almost” part of that was what drove him into studying medicine as well.
There were new discoveries to be found, ways of healing that were presently unavailable purely because of ignorance. With time and money devoted to people in the medical field who held the same views as he did, so much could be achieved.
There was no need for suffering.
Conversely, he was completely on board with forcing shortsighted fools into compliance.
It was for the good of all. The military might of Anrodnes led to peace in the end, willingly or not.
It was the way of things. Always had been. He followed in the footsteps of his father and a vast array of ancestors that stretched back into antiquity. Their biographies had been instrumental in his own growth as he learned by their mistakes and stepped beyond what they had known.
Under his guidance, the empire would be seen as perfect by its citizens and by the lands beyond its borders.
At this moment, his brother Zaran would be making the initial decisions regarding the Choosing. His brow twitched, and he smoothed it with a finger, chasing away the emotions behind it. His brother was a blessing. He was Taldan’s right hand, his rock. Even though Zaran was five years younger, he was steady and focused, even if he was more prone to emotion than Taldan approved of.
Give him time and he would no doubt gain the sort of emotional distance that Taldan had mastered.
He crossed out a word in his treatise and substituted another, trying to keep his mind from the distraction of the Choosing. Usually he had more control over his mind than this.
This Choosing was pure foolishness, and it grated that he could not simply order it away. Tradition was a powerful thing, and there were times that he could not protest ceremonies that his ancestors had put into play. They seemed to be important to his people in some fashion he could not comprehend. Naral had tried to explain the matter numerous times, but Taldan was content to label it as inexplicable but needed.
So he had acquiesced to
the farce, with the full intent of giving his new consort/bondmate over to Naral’s care. The man would be simply part of the household, and there was no need for Taldan to have anything more to do with him.
Ceremony over. Problem solved. He could remain focused on reshaping the empire into a beacon to be admired by the rest of the world…
* * *
Raine
“Lord Raine Yoldis?”
Raine jerked back to the present, tearing his attention from the book he had taken from the shelves. He leaped to his feet from where he had been sitting with his back against a wall, face flushing as he hastily closed the book and held it out to the man in fine court clothing who stood before him.
“I’m so sorry. I touched it without permission and…”
The man gently accepted the tome with a raised brow, and the cold calm that characterized his expression eased into something less distant.
“There is no harm done. The books upon the shelves in the hall are there for exactly this purpose, so that guests may be entertained if need be.” Light brown eyes fell upon the title, and the brow inched higher. “This is a weighty subject.” His glance back at Raine was skeptical. “Ancient building methods?”
There was a wariness in the depths of the man’s expression. Raine suddenly realized that this would appear as though he were attempting to use the treatise to attract the imperial prince, who was noted for the subject and had published several books on the matter, including the one that had pulled Raine into the pages within moments of opening the cover.
His flush deepened, and he took a step back, brushing at his clothing in an attempt to gather his frantic thoughts. How could he have been so foolish as to forget his purpose, to give in to his ever-present curiosity? Curiosity that had always been met by punishment and derision.
“It’s a subject that I personally have always been fascinated by,” Raine said quickly. “I have made notes of Odenar’s methods from the little we have in our libraries. I think the imperial prince knows more about our history that we do.”
He tried to smile, but it came out more a grimace, and the man’s expression cooled further.
“I’m sure. His Highness, soon to be emperor, is a noted authority on the subject. A fact known by all.”
The implication was clear.
Raine wanted to sink through the floor. He chanced a glance around the hall, mortified to realize that all the other candidates were gone and that servants were cleaning the space with efficiency.
“I apologize…” He cut off his words abruptly, realizing there was absolutely no way to correct this impression that he had unwittingly given. His heart sank as he realized that this ensured that his name would be announced the following morning as one of those who had been rejected.
His face paled at the thought of his brother’s reaction. Parsul would be furious.
He drew a shuddering breath and gave a brief bow to the man before him, though he had no idea of his rank. The courtier was average height, with a wide chest and the thick thighs of a horseman. His rich clothes showed that he was someone important at the court. Clearest of all was the impression that Raine was receiving strongly from him. Suspicion, dislike, protectiveness were clearly projected.
“May I have someone show me where my room is, please? I’m obviously in the way here.” He cast a chastened glance at the servants, hoping they were not aware of his foolish actions. How they must have viewed him, curled up against the wall and oblivious to the world…
The man stayed silent for a moment, eyes narrowed, then gestured for Isnay, the courtier who had been standing off to the side, watching the exchange.
Waiting for Raine.
He closed his eyes briefly. “Thank you,” he murmured softly.
“Lord Naral.” The man’s abrupt introduction shook him out of his introspection. “Head of security for Persis and companion to the High Prince.”
Wonderful. That name capped the moment, compounding Raine’s sense of failure. The heir’s companion. How much worse could the moment get?
“Here.” Lord Naral offered the book back, his lips twisted into something perilously close to derision. “It might help relieve your boredom.”
Raine swallowed with difficulty but reached out for the precious book, unable to resist. If this was the only time he got to study the heir’s personal works… Even if it meant he had lost an opportunity for freedom, for this night at least, he would soak in the knowledge with bittersweet enjoyment.
He cradled the tome before nodding respectfully, turning to follow the man in silence. There was nothing left to say.
Soon Raine arrived at his room, Isnay gesturing him in before following behind.
He drew a shuddering breath when he realized the room was empty. The relief he felt almost sent him to his knees.
He turned back to face Isnay. “My brother?”
“The candidates have their own rooms. You will see your brother at the morning meal.” There was a watchful intelligence in those beautiful hazel eyes. There was an empathy in their depths that gave Raine a modicum of strength.
“Ah, my thanks, Isnay. I apologize for making you wait in the hall. If needed, please interrupt me at any time. It is a great failing of mine that I get lost in the pages of books.”
“There is no apology necessary, my lord. The heir himself has the same affliction, so we are quite at ease with such things.”
Raine felt a surge of relief, followed by a sliver of regret. Perhaps the future emperor would have understood him as his own family did not. The culture in Odenar was not geared to the pursuit of creativity. Practicality was revered, demanded. All else was dismissed as unimportant, even wasteful.
What would it have been like to live here, bound to someone who had made the pursuit of all knowledge their very life’s work?
Isnay bowed. “Sleep well, my lord. I will come in the morning to wake you and see you to the meal.”
Raine nodded, thanked him, but knew there would be no sleep that night. After all, he had to face the morning, and Parsul’s discovery of his failure, all too soon.
* * *
Zaran
Lord Naral opened the door to the private room that overlooked the hall. Zaran turned from the ornate screen that let him watch and overhear everything below and raised a silent brow at him as he stormed inside. He had witnessed all that had just happened between Naral and the young candidate from Odenar.
“I want to believe he did it deliberately.” Naral’s tone was annoyed, his suspicious nature showing clearly.
Zaran carefully hid a burst of amusement. Since childhood, Naral had been at Taldan and Zaran’s side, seen all the devices and maneuvering that people employed to gain favor with the future emperor. He knew that Naral’s own parents, warm and loving, had ill-prepared him for the deviousness and darkness that was the imperial court.
Now he had trouble seeing the good in anyone. His experience was telling him one thing, while his instincts, long honed in the protection of the princes, were telling him something entirely different.
“His shock at your interruption seemed genuine.” Zaran stated the facts with calm precision. “I saw the moment he realized that you thought his actions deliberate and calculated. His devastation was evident.”
“He is either a consummate actor or disturbingly genuine,” Naral growled, pacing the space with impatient strides.
“Should we add him to the list of those who will leave? We could add one of the others back on the list to stay.”
Naral spun on his heel, frustration evident. “We have to get this right. I fear the consequences if we let someone in who has ulterior motives.”
Zaran could barely suppress a snort. “Don’t they all? I think it impossible to choose one who is thinking of my brother with anything but greed. I had hoped to find one who would bring some good to Taldan and the empire…but I don’t know. Perhaps we can only attempt to limit the damage and ensure that whoever is chosen has no power to create troub
le in the future. Besides, we know that Taldan will have nothing to do with his Chosen anyway beyond the initial ceremonies. He has Hredeen in the harem for those times he actually pulls his mind from his studies…”
Naral drew to a halt, sighed and ran a hand through his hair, tousling it dreadfully, completely destroying his usually immaculate demeanor. “What do you think we should do? This is your decision in the end.”
Zaran cocked his head, a mannerism he wished he could cure himself of. Only with Naral did he feel completely safe enough to expose even this small facet of personality. In all things, at all other times, he must be the perfect son to the emperor, the perfect brother to the imperial prince.
“Your input is vital in this, Naral. I trust your judgment utterly.” It was no small compliment and only the truth.
Naral flushed, ducking his head for a moment, a strange vulnerability evident for a split second before he drew a sharp breath and sent a grin Zaran’s way. “I’m in good company then. The only other judgment you believe in is Taldan’s.”
Zaran took note of the absence of the emperor’s name on that list but said nothing. It was difficult to trust a father who would throw him to the wolves if it led to the betterment of the empire. Although Taldan continuously tried to emulate their father in his successful leadership, Zaran knew, deep in some mystical part of himself, that his brother would not betray him. There was a link between them that their father, as an only child, had never had.
It was a chink in Taldan’s armor that Zaran protected fiercely. No one would ever use that against him, not while Zaran lived.
It was a sign that Zaran was not completely the cold, emotionless being that his father prized.
There were times he could not regret that.
“Let’s look at the list again.”
CHAPTER FOUR
