“Yes, Prince?”
“You’re fired.”
Sergei gasped. “What?”
“You heard me. You’re sacked.”
“My family has held this post for generations! You can’t fire me!”
“I just did.”
As Sergei gaped in astonished surprise, Flynn jerked his head at a nearby soldier. “Escort him from the castle. If I find him here an hour from now, I’ll hang you both from the turrets and feed your entrails to the ravens.”
Saluting, the soldier obeyed, hustling a still protesting Sergei from the keep. The crowd closed in around us, muttering, uneasy. Iyumi gripped my hand, hard, conveying her worry without permitting emotion to show on her face. Windy and Sky Dancer, sensing something amiss, stopped staring at each other and walked into the milling mass. Heads high above everyone else, they could see and hear easily. As Malik and Padraig edged in tighter, closer to us, Flynn turned in a circle again, drawing all eyes.
He’d no need. Every eye within the keep, and those from the walls and windows, lay nowhere but on him. Had I not seen hint of deep unhappiness in his face and eyes, I’d have thought he planned to announce his coronation date and invite us to attend it. My gut clenched. Flynn was up to something. I knew it. He wasn’t going to announce his big day and inform the crowds of the menu. My instincts told me I wasn’t going to like it, and I believed them.
“My second act as the King of Raithin Mawr,” he said, “is to abdicate.”
Gasps of shock rebounded through the keep. People shifted their feet, or turned to one another. Voices muttered words like ‘no’, ‘he mustn’t’ ‘he’s not serious’ ‘can’t be’. A muted roar rushed across the masses like a breeze over grass, the tone halfway to panic. Raithin Mawr without a King? Who would he choose as his successor? Fainche is dead. As is his wife and unborn son. He has no close relatives. What is he thinking?
Flynn heard those words and smiled. Not a happy, delighted ‘I’m happy to announce’ sort of smile. Oh, no. His upper lip curled in both derision and defiance, and his stiff facial muscles revealed no humor, no warmth. Last night, he wasn’t nearly as drunk as I thought he was and he spent the night planning this scenario. I knew it, and I was right.
“I’m abdicating, folks,” he went on, his voice magnified. “But you won’t be without a great leader. My choice as my successor, and your future king, is a man of great courage and valor. He’ll do right by you. He’ll protect you, and keep our lands safe for many years to come. With his royal bride, he’ll have strong sons and beautiful daughters to follow, and secure the succession.”
I grabbed his arm, half-panicked. “Uh, Flynn? What are you doing, bro? Talk to me, dammit.”
Flynn ignored me. He brushed my hand from his arm. His voice rose to a shout. “I hereby crown First Captain Vanyar of Bryn’Cairdha as your new king and monarch. May he reign forever in peace.”
“What! No!”
I tried to retreat from him, and his nomination, but that bloody Padraig stood firm and refused to let me. With his strong hand on my shoulder, holding me still, I couldn’t escape. My mind gibbered in panic. “Flynn, don’t do this – I’ll make a shitty king, I can’t govern my own purse much less a kingdom. Please!”
Flynn didn’t smile, but his hand cupped Iyumi’s pale cheek. “With this beauty at your side, Vanyar, you’ll rule the world. She’ll teach you all you need to know.”
“Flynn, you stupid bastard, don’t! You’re the rightful king, not me. Take it back!”
“I’d make a rotten king,” Flynn said sadly, forcing the crown into my hands. “You’re a born leader, a natural leader. My people will adore you as they never have me.”
At this, many faces in the crowd sported expressions of shame. Many more shook their heads. Still, none denied his proclamation or spoke up. He was right. He may have saved their castle, their town and their lives, but they’ll never love him. Nor would they find loyalty for him in their hearts. Had he died saving them, they’d erect a monument to him at the same time forgetting he ever existed.
Only one brave soul stepped forward. A burly soldier, in uniform, advanced to the front and saluted Flynn with unfeigned respect.
“Please, sir,” he said. “Won’t you reconsider? We want you for our king.”
Flynn turned toward him, and his smile held a nasty twist. “I haven’t forgotten you, D’var. Had I died before my demon father, you’d be the first to spit on my grave.”
The soldier bowed low. “Forgive me, sire.”
“I don’t think so. High-tail it out of here and I’ll forget to set the hounds on your trail.”
Blushing, afraid, the soldier backed into the crowd and vanished.
Flynn watched him go, but the bitterness never left his eyes. “My people and I have hated one another for too many years,” he said, his tone soft, reflective. He glanced around at the high walls, the proud towers, the milling crowds. “There’s nothing left for me here, Van. Perhaps, out there, beyond these walls and this land, I might find redemption. I’ve done great wrong.”
“And great good,” I said fiercely. “Don’t go.”
“The best thing I can do for my people is leave them, Van. We both know it.”
“Where will you go?” Iyumi asked, her voice thick.
Flynn smiled sadly, his scar stretched, as he gently stroked her cheek with his finger. “I don’t know, Princess. There are other places, other lands. Perhaps I’ll build another kingdom, one that will like me for me.”
She clutched his hand, desperate, within her own. “May the good gods walk with you, Prince Flynn. Wherever you travel.”
A smile flickered across Flynn’s tense face and vanished. “Thank you, Princess. I appreciate the sentiment, but I highly doubt they’d protect once such as I.”
Iyumi courteously returned his hand to him and flicked his hair from his brow, smiling gently. “You’ve placed your feet upon the right road, Flynn. Stay on it and never stray. Do good, and do right, and the gods may indeed grace your steps. You’ll find the redemption you seek.”
Flynn bowed at his waist and kissed her fingers. “I hope so, my lady. Be well, Yummy. Be kind.”
His lightning fast wink brought out such a flaming blush that my jaw slackened to witness it. Iyumi blushed? Yummy? She certainly was yummy, in my regard, but – calling her ‘Yummy’ to her face? Why wasn’t he dead under the frail ego of an outraged female royal? Did he have a luck Faery riding his shoulder?
“I’d like to go with you, m’lord,” Buck-Eye said. “If you’ll have me.”
“Me, too,” Lyall spoke up. “Torass’ll never leave you, neither, m’lord. Given the option.”
Flynn blew Iyumi a swift air-kiss and turned. “I was hoping you’d want to. Get your horses, lads.”
The crowd parted for them, stepping aside to clear a wide swath of cobblestone leading to the royal stables. Once the mercs passed, running, the peasants and less than noble upper class barons and lords closed ranks behind them. I noticed no one else stepped forward to volunteer to follow Flynn into self-proclaimed exile. Perhaps Flynn was right – his people were grateful he put his life on the line for them. But they didn’t love him and never would.
“Flynn,” I said, desperate. “Don’t. This isn’t what I want. The kingdom is yours.”
“We don’t always get what we want.” Flynn bowed, both mocking me and grinning with real humor. “Your Majesty.”
“Is this even legal?” Thinking perhaps there was a law that might keep me from the Raithin Mawrn throne, I tried a new gambit. “Surely you can’t simply name a new King, one not even born to this country.”
“Oh, I certainly can, boyo. I did some checking last night. The King has the legal right to name his successor, no matter what bolt hole he hails from. You’re King now. Deal with it.”
He cocked an amused eye on Iyumi, clinging to my hand. “Now you have the clout to marry her. And in so doing fulfills the prophecy. Isn’t that so, Princess?”
She nodded. �
�It does, Flynn.”
“What –”
“With you, as King of Raithin Mawr, are joined in marriage to Princess Iyumi of Bryn’Cairdha, our two lands become one single nation again.”
“But –”
“She’ll inherit Bryn’Cairdha one day,” Flynn went on. “As King and Queen, together, you fulfill the prophecy. Lord Captain Commander Malik? Please. Correct me if I’m wrong.”
“Prince Flynn, you are not wrong.”
“This is what that baby was born to do,” Flynn resumed, his tone low. “Bring us all together, as one nation. As we were once before, we will be again. Magic, and non-magic. Human and non-human. No longer divided, forever one.”
“Flynn,” I began, but his icy regard shut me down.
“I can’t be King, Van,” he said, his hand gripping my shoulder, hard. “Then you’d be dead and I’d be marrying Iyumi. None of us want that. I don’t want the throne of my forefathers. My people will fall in love with you both, and seal the prophecy begun long before either of us were born.”
“Damn your eyes,” I said, my voice bitter.
“You wish. First Lieutenant Padraig.”
Padraig stalked forward and saluted Flynn, his chin dropped over his fist clenched tight against his chest. “Your Highness.”
“Be a good chap and name yourself Captain of the Royal Guard. It’s now your job to keep the new King and Queen, and their children, safe from all enemies. Pick the best of the best from both countries, and create a new, broad, homeland security unit. Call it –”
Flynn grinned, his grin widening and his blue eyes dancing. “Call it the tatana’yarala,” he said. “‘The heavy duty.’”
“By your command, Your Highness.”
“Flynn, you can’t just order an Atan around,” I snapped, desperate.
Flynn’s eyes widened in feigned astonishment. “Oh, but I can, Your Majesty. You see, one of the laws I looked up last night is this one: a King can form any military force he wishes, and recruit any warm body he wishes – including those silly folks who step across our borders. I just pilfered Roidan’s for the task at hand. They’re on my property, after all.”
“Hmmm,” Malik rumbled, rubbing his chin. “That’s not necessarily true, Your Highness. You’ve technically abdicated the throne, thus you’re not King. The line is a fine one.”
Flynn laughed. He smacked Malik on his bare shoulder. “I just commanded your best Centaur to guard your own King Vanyar and Queen Iyumi. Are you truly going to argue that weak point, Malik?”
Malik shook his head, his dark face lightening a fraction. “Nope. Not one bit.”
“There you have it.” Flynn clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “All set. I abdicated the throne in favor of you in front of hundreds of witnesses from both countries. We’re no longer at war. The terrorist attacks will stop. Might I kiss the lovely bride good-bye?”
I gaped, unable to do anything but stare at the crown in my hands. Me, the King of Raithin Mawr. Flynn couldn’t have sentenced me to a worse prison. I suspected Braigh’Mhar held more joys for me than this. I glanced up to see Iyumi embrace Flynn and watch as he planted a kiss on her cheek.
“Come back and see us?” she asked, holding onto his hands.
“Name a kid after me,” Flynn replied, his tone light. “Van, you’re one lucky dog.”
I scowled. “You’re hilarious.”
“You’re marrying the best and brightest. Roll with it, son.”
The crowd parted as Torass ran through the masses, the saddled Bayonne trotting behind him. He saluted as he pushed the stallion’s reins into Flynn’s hands. “I’m off to fetch my gear, m’lord,” he said before bolting toward the stables. “Wait for me?”
Like a serf, my guts roiling, I held silver stallion’s bridle as Flynn swung into his saddle. He stared down as I glared up. For a long moment, we stared at one another, both recognizing we were two halves of the same whole. Enemies turned brothers. Not brothers of blood, but of a common bond, shared and trusted. We both screwed up. We both sought forgiveness for our crimes. We both craved absolution.
Though our friendship just began, I knew I’d miss him. He sincerely regretted the actions, the life he’d chosen. He expected the dire consequences, and would never flinch from them when they approached to seek him out. If he kept to the correct path, perhaps he may find what he sought.
Leaning out of his saddle, he held out his hand to me. I took it. “Long live the King,” he said softly. “Look after yourself, Vanyar.”
“You, too, Flynn.”
“Rule my people well,” he said, nudging his horse away and walking him through the silent masses. Like a boulder parts a stream, people made way for him, watching, as he rode away. He half turned over his shoulder, his grin flashing white. “Remember, Your Majesty,” he said. “You taught me to fly. I may come back. Just to check up on you.”
Without giving me time to answer, he kicked his horse. Before he galloped through the castle’s gates, he waved, his arm swinging high over his head.
Then he was gone.
About the Author
A. Katie Rose is a workaholic living in San Antonio, Texas. With her day job as a photographer, she moonlights as a fantasy writer. She enjoys long walks, reading, hiking, watching movies, red wine, and drinking beer around a fire with friends. Among her extracurricular activities, she enjoys riding her horses on either long trail rides or a quick jaunt around the pasture.
A Colorado native, she earned her B.A. in literature and history at Western State College, in Gunnison, Colorado. Her debut novel, “In a Wolf’s Eyes”, was published as an e-book in 2012, but released in print under House Anderson Publishing. Her second book, “Catch a Wolf”, and the third of the series, “Prince Wolf”, were both published by House Anderson Publishing. She is busy working on the fourth of the “Saga of the Black Wolf” series, “Under the Wolf’s Shadow”, which is due in fall of 2015.
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