By the end, he was nearly shouting, and it had to be through sheer force of will that Iharu remained where he was, holding his ground. Yudai took a menacing step forward, and Tatsu could imagine what was going to follow—a respected advisor dead on the ground and Yudai’s rule the most short-lived in history. He lunged for Yudai without really thinking and caught his arm mid-throw.
“Yudai,” he hissed.
There was a second where Yudai’s eyes flashed dangerously at Tatsu, and then the emotion fell away. Yudai pulled his arm away as his face relaxed and he took two steps back.
“This won’t help,” Tatsu said softly. “You know they aren’t the ones to blame.”
Yudai stewed on that for several long breaths, and when he finally replied, he sounded tired again. “Yeah, I know. You’re right.”
Iharu was still poised with his hands fisted at his sides, and Tatsu didn’t like the look that was aimed at him.
“What is your suggestion, Iharu?” Yudai asked, though he still didn’t look as if he were keen to hear it.
“We need to keep the systems in place. They have existed for centuries and given us the standing and power that we have.”
“You’re referring to the mages,” Yudai said, “and the unfortunate poor within the city.”
Iharu sighed. “I am referring to everything, including the use of our native tongue at court.”
The gathering of nobles had doubled in size, and the stragglers who had entered last wore the same anxious expression as the ones already present. Three other mages had quietly joined the first near the back wall, looking confused and out of place. Though Yudai didn’t spare them another glance, Tatsu let his eyes linger on them. He wondered how they felt knowing what one of their own had done—were they afraid of the retribution from the crown and court? Or were they mourning the loss in status again, wishing that Nota had survived the encounter?
“I will take your counsel into consideration,” Yudai said. “For now, let this be a general announcement: I am not my father, and I will not rule in the manner that he did.”
“Beginning with…?” Iharu asked.
“Don’t assume that you still retain your position on the crown’s cabinet simply because my father appointed you.”
That was the wrong thing to say, and Tatsu could see it painted across Iharu’s face. The nobles standing behind him resumed their hushed conversations, eyes darting from side to side, and all of it was wrong. Tatsu might not have understood court politics, but he could feel the atmosphere shifting the ground beneath them. He could feel it down in his bones, even if Yudai was oblivious. He was going to lose the court, and with it, he stood to lose his crown.
“And him?” Iharu asked, jerking his head in Tatsu’s direction.
“What about him?”
“I suspect we’d all hoped that you’d grown out of this phase,” Iharu said, “but to allow an outsider to stand next to you as an equal—”
“How dare you—” Yudai began, a guttural growl, before he too was interrupted.
“He’s Nota’s son!”
Every head in the room whipped back to stare at the mage who’d shouted, the first one who had prostrated herself on the floor in front of Yudai’s feet. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth as her eyes went wide. Apparently, her outburst had shocked even herself, but her surprise was no match for that of the court and cabinet.
Tatsu’s heart seized in his chest, frozen with icy dread, before it sank so low he feared it would fall away completely.
The mage began to shake violently, even as her fingers slid down from her lips.
“How do you know that?” Yudai’s voice was very low.
“I—I am sorry,” she stammered in accented Common that seemed to trip up her tongue. “But, he… he must be the one. He broke the barrier, and her blood—”
“Is this true?” Iharu demanded of Yudai. “He is Nota’s son?”
“The son she abandoned, you mean?” Yudai said. “He never knew her, he’s not—”
“A blood connection is still a connection!” Iharu exclaimed, and the chamber erupted in arguments.
It felt an awful lot like being in the middle of a vicious, spurned flock of birds. Runonian that Tatsu couldn’t understand flew around him, wings and claws as the nobles turned to each other with shouts of alarm and anger. It was all he could do not to crouch down on the ground with his arms held protectively over his head. At the heart of it all was his blood, his damned blood shared with the woman lying drained on the tiles, the blood he couldn’t free from his body.
There was a popping in his ears, and then the chamber abruptly fell silent, because Yudai’s magic was hissing, pulling the broken glass shards up from the ground and holding them aloft. The court took a collective step back as Yudai stood sparking, his chest heaving.
“There will be order here,” he seethed.
“Yudai,” Tatsu murmured, but it was lost. The court, held motionless through fear and mistrust as they stared at the manifestation of Yudai’s abilities, seemed unable to react. Even when Yudai dropped the glass back down, the tension refused to dissipate, and it clung to Tatsu’s arms like an unwanted second skin.
The doors to the receiving chamber opened with two loud bangs, and four soldiers marched inside with a dirty figure shuffling in the middle of their formation. Yudai’s eyebrows were arched high until Alesh darted in behind the clanking boots of the guards and ran past the nobles to the steps of the dais.
“We found Akao,” she said, “but he didn’t want to cooperate. It took the guard’s intervention to bring him in.”
Tatsu recognized Akao then, even with his chin lowered and his hair falling in front of his eyes. The soldiers thrust him front and center, and he skidded to a halt very near to Yudai’s feet.
“I see,” Yudai said, and he clasped his hands behind his back as if hiding his hands would hide the humming fear. “Well, Akao, my friends here tell me some… interesting stories about you and your allegiance. I’d like to give you the chance to speak for yourself.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” Akao said bravely but clearly a lie by the shaking in his shackled wrists.
“That wasn’t much of an answer,” Yudai said. He took a step down, and Akao flinched, pulling back towards the soldiers, somehow the safer of his two options. He glanced up to meet Tatsu’s gaze and something hardened in his eyes.
Yudai leaned in, his position on the steps making up what he lacked in height. “I’ve got it on good authority that you report to the Queen of Chayd.”
Akao said nothing.
“Did you allow Chaydese citizens to take refuge in your home in Runon and smuggle them into the castle for the purpose of stealing…” Yudai trailed off, licked his lips, and huffed a mirthless laugh, “…the siphon?”
“You already know,” Akao said. “There’s no need for my answer. Why bring me here? Why not just have me killed?”
From the mumbling between the nobles, Tatsu thought the court agreed.
“I’m going to let you go,” Yudai said, and this surprised Akao enough for him to jerk his head back, eyes widening. Yudai smiled, the expression dangerous. “You’re going to deliver a message to your queen.”
“What’s the message?” Akao’s gaze flickered to Tatsu again.
“Tell her that I’m going to call upon her for favors,” Yudai said, enunciating slowly and clearly, “and that she will very much want to agree to them. After all, she owes me. And she knows why.”
Akao drew in a deep breath before replying, “And what of me after I deliver this message?”
“Don’t come back.”
Yudai straightened once more, and the two soldiers in front brought their armored hands down hard on Akao’s shoulders.
“Take him to the border,” Yudai said. “See that he makes it across.”
“Use the trade roads,” Tatsu said, trying to keep his voice quiet enough that only Yudai would hear. “He won’t make it through the Weeping Forest.”
As the guards pushed Akao out of the chamber, Iharu moved back to the front of the crowd.
“What about the court?” he asked.
“You’re dismissed,” Yudai said with a casual wave of his hand. “I’ll call you back once I’ve decided what to do about the advisory council.”
It took longer than Tatsu had expected for all the nobles and mages to leave, and the young mage who had spoken about him to the court gave him a sympathetic look as she passed. Eventually, Tatsu and Yudai were alone in the room with both Alesh and Ral. Yudai sank back down to the ground, his confidence visibly draining as he wearily rubbed at his eyes.
“That didn’t exactly go as planned,” he said. It helped somewhat to know that the outbursts hadn’t been premeditated. It didn’t seem like the best time to bring up the subject of Tatsu’s presence or the court’s reaction to it, so Tatsu turned to Alesh instead.
“When will you leave?”
She shrugged. “Tomorrow, probably. I’m not keen on staying here much longer.”
“You have done more than was required already,” Yudai said. “Let me go to the treasury and get a reward before you leave.”
“That’s not necessary—”
“I insist.” One corner of Yudai’s mouth twisted up. “I remember who helped me.”
Alesh’s resulting smile was genuine. “Alright, then. Get some rest tonight. It’s been a long day—shouldn’t you already be settling in?”
“Yes,” Yudai said, but it lacked strength.
“Yudai fine,” Ral said. She reached forward to take both of Yudai’s hands, and he gave her fingers a squeeze in return. Something shimmered between them that Tatsu would never be able to fully understand, and then Yudai gave a small, shaky laugh that sounded so little like him.
“I’ll never know how to thank you, Ral,” he said. “Promise me that you’ll take care of yourself.”
“Look forward,” Ral told him. When he pulled his hands out of her grip, she gently pushed a bit of unruly hair out of his eyes. “Always forward.”
Yudai nodded, his mouth a thin line. “I will. Thank you for everything.”
He turned to Alesh.
“There are guest rooms here, and some quarters that used to belong to council members. I’ll instruct the guards to escort you to a room that’s empty. I’m afraid I don’t have the faintest clue which ones have been occupied.”
“We’ll come by tomorrow morning,” Alesh agreed. Then she paused before glancing at Tatsu. “Take care of each other.”
They moved toward the double doors.
“And if you see Jotin,” she added, craning her head over her shoulder, “send him by tonight, will you?”
“Are you giving the king orders?” Yudai asked with a genuine laugh.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Alesh called as they walked through the doors and disappeared.
Yudai didn’t say much as they left the receiving chamber other than giving instructions for the castle guards to clean up Nota’s body and the debris from the fight. They made their way up to one of the side turrets, and the stone-lined walls that Tatsu remembered sneaking through felt little different as he trailed behind. He still felt like an outsider infiltrating the stronghold behind enemy lines. The feeling of displacement was heavy in his gut, even as Yudai took the hallway’s twists and turns with a practiced speed.
At the top of three flights of narrow, curving stairs, the pathway widened into a short hallway. There were no torches mounted on the wall to lend light, so the lantern Yudai was holding provided the only glow. The circle of orange wobbled, casting dancing shadows across the walls, as he jerkily moved forward, seemingly guided more by memory than sight.
His fingers reached out to touch one of the worn wooden doors.
“Is everything all right?” Tatsu asked.
“These used to be my chambers,” Yudai said, though his voice sounded very far away. “I grew up in these rooms.”
He grabbed at the nearest door handle and pulled hard. After a few tugs, the resistance gave way, and Yudai stumbled backwards. The portal flew open with a puff of long undisturbed dust that clouded the air and reflected the lantern’s glow back at them. Inside, the air was stale and smelled slightly of mildew. The rooms hadn’t been opened for months, if not years, and Tatsu wasn’t sure what that said about Yudai’s father and his feelings towards his only son.
Whatever emotions he was wrestling with, Yudai didn’t let them stop him from entering the room and moving to the middle, making a wide arc as he took in each corner in turn.
“Everything is still here,” he said, his voice low. “Everything is exactly as it used to be.”
“Perhaps they always assumed that you’d come back.”
Yudai’s face pinched. “I was never gone. Nota always kept me in the castle, so she could be near both me and my father.”
“Maybe they thought the siphon was temporary,” Tatsu said.
“My father never thought that. My father was ready to use my life to extend his own.”
Feeling helpless, Tatsu took in the room as well. The ring of lantern light was small, but enough to see most of what remained, dust-covered and forgotten: a low bed propped up on curved iron legs, a low table one would need to kneel to use, and a large bookcase crammed with more books and parchment than Tatsu thought a single person would ever need. Leaning closer, he saw there were black ink stains on the tabletop, and they darkened when Tatsu ran a finger over the dust atop the marks to clear it.
“You were his only son,” Tatsu said, standing back up. “You were his heir. Why would he risk the line to his throne?”
“If he were to live for another hundred years, he likely thought he had plenty of time to make new heirs.” Yudai’s grimace was ugly and angry.
“You meant something to him.”
“No,” Yudai said and set the lantern down on a small end table holding a cracked porcelain bowl. “I was a gift, given to him by the gods to expand his power and control. At least that’s how he must have seen me by the end. It wasn’t always like that—not until Nota shared the idea of the siphon with my father. Before that, I was just…”
His voice faded away, so Tatsu prompted, “Just what?”
“A disappointment,” Yudai said. “Arrogant and spoiled and uninterested in what I needed to learn to be king.”
“You were a child.”
“I was a prince,” Yudai corrected. “And princes are not allowed to be mere children.”
Tatsu closed his eyes. “Don’t do this to yourself, not now. You’re in charge. You don’t have to stay in your old chambers if they remind you of your worst memories.”
When he pried his eyes open once more, Yudai had crossed the room and was standing in front of him. Even in the dim light, Tatsu could see the mischief dancing in his eyes.
“Oh, I don’t intend to stay with all the bad memories,” Yudai said, and his hands went to Tatsu’s biceps, pushing and steering him backwards until Tatsu’s calves hit the side of the mattress. Tatsu tumbled backwards onto the blankets and Yudai wasted no time in following him, with his knees sliding to either side of Tatsu’s hips. “I thought, instead, I’d work on making some new ones.”
“You’re the king,” Tatsu murmured. His thoughts grew fuzzy as Yudai’s mouth found the curve of his jaw and worked its way down diagonally across his throat. “I have to do what you say.”
“When have you ever done what I said?” Yudai asked, laughing. The sound was muffled by Tatsu’s skin, and the feel of Yudai’s lips sent delicious shivers down Tatsu’s back. Tatsu arched up into Yudai’s touch, and his heartbeat thudded loud and fast in his temples.
“Then I suppose this will be the first time,” Tatsu said.
Yudai’s breath against his earlobe was hot. “And likely the last.”
“
Your Majesty.”
Yudai swallowed whatever would have come next by sweeping in to kiss him.
Twenty-Three
After Alesh and Ral left the next morning with a coin purse full of silver Runonian pieces, Jotin met them in the receiving chamber, his hawk perched on the strap across his shoulder.
“You too?” Yudai asked. “Returning home?”
“It’s time.” Jotin smiled. “It has certainly been an adventure traveling with you. I hope the throne is everything you want it to be.”
Yudai grimaced, but otherwise, he didn’t reply. Instead, he pulled out a small bag made of smooth leather and held it out in front of him until Jotin reached for it.
“A token of my gratitude.”
Jotin smiled and slipped the pouch in between the layers of his shirts without checking the contents. “It was not necessary, but I appreciate the thought.”
“You’ve been a great help,” Yudai said.
Jotin gave him a shallow bow. “I am looking forward to working with you during my time on the High Council. May the future of our two countries be a movement towards peace and understanding.”
“Take care of yourself,” Yudai said.
“Don’t let any scorpions get hold of you,” Tatsu added with a wry smile.
It felt empty after Jotin left without a backwards glance. They were back to the way they’d started so many months ago with just the two of them, but it felt hollow after everything they’d gone through with the others. Even after leaving them in the Myvar Ruins and setting off on their own, it didn’t feel right without them there. If the expression on Yudai’s face was anything to go by, Tatsu wasn’t alone in the unsettled discontentment.
“Well,” Tatsu said, trying to shake the feeling free, “what happens now?”
“Now the real work begins,” Yudai told him, one eye twitching before he stood and left the chamber through the narrow side door.
The Mage Heir Page 28
