The Darkest Night

by Emma V. Leech

  “Cerberus!” he cried, genuinely delighted to see his scruffy dog. “You came all this way, you clever little fellow!” He chuckled and made a great fuss of the creature, who returned his affections threefold. “That will do now,” Corin added, putting him down as he was getting licked with too much enthusiasm. Cerberus kept jumping up at him, though, beside himself with excitement. “Yes, yes, I am ecstatic, too, but really ... please stop that. You are making a spectacle of both of us, it’s most undignified. Calm yourself now.” Claudette laughed as the wolves joined the fray, each one pushing and shoving, growling and whining as they vied for his attention, with Corin trying to greet all of them in turn. In the end, he spoke in the old tongue to calm them, and they all looked at him with adoration, but quieted and sat down.

  “I had to bring Cerberus,” Claudette said, smiling as they both looked at the funny little dog, sat next to the huge wolves as though he believed himself Alpha. “I was afraid he’d starve, the poor thing was pining for you.”

  Corin looked appalled and crouched down to pet Cerberus again, who obligingly rolled over to show a skinny pink belly as proof of his devotion. “Poor little chap.”

  “Too be honest, we all were,” Claudette added.

  Corin turned to see her eyes fill with tears, and he stood up, pulling her close once more. “You were not the only ones,” he whispered. “I missed you more than I can possibly tell you, ma belle.” He chuckled and looked down at the wolves and the tatty little dog with affection. “All of you,” he added, his voice a little unsteady.

  They just stood together for a moment, holding each other, until Claudette spoke again. Her voice was hesitant. "Have you told him yet?" she asked, looking up at him with concern in her eyes.

  Corin shook his head, swallowing as the guilt of it washed over him again. "I have tried,” he said, the fear of having to face it making his blood shiver beneath his skin. “I swear, I have. I keep trying, but either the words stick in my throat and I am too afraid he will turn away from me, or something conspires to stop me in my tracks."

  She looked up at him and put her hands to his face. "You must tell him now, Corin. Don't leave it any longer."

  He nodded, knowing she was right. Not that he had needed telling. "I know." He kissed her again, a soft press of lips, before releasing her and calling for his guard.

  Two men entered the room and bowed. "Where is the prince Laen?" he asked. "Have word sent to him that I would speak with him immediately."

  The two men exchanged glances before one of them spoke up. "I believe he is with his father, King Braed, Your Highness."

  For a moment, Corin believed he must have heard him wrong, but he felt Claudette take his hand, squeezing tight.

  "When,” he managed, fear tightening his throat and making the words hard to speak. “When did he arrive?"

  "I believe Prince Laen went to speak with him just after you entered the castle, sire."

  "Why was I not told?" he demanded, anger at having lost his chance warring with terror. Oh gods, no. Braed would have felt the land pulling away from him. He would try and turn Laen against him. "Why did you not tell me the king was here?"

  The guard blanched and stuttered. "Y-You were with King Auberren, sire, and then w-with the Lady Claudette. We did not wish to intrude."

  "Get out," he said, his voice faint now as the implications of what this meant crashed down on him. The guards looked from him to each other, hesitating, and he turned on them in fury. “Get out!” Claudette gasped and stepped away as his power flooded the room and the guards turned and fled.

  "Corin?" Claudette moved closer and he tried to control his magic, knowing it must burn her as she reached out with caution, touching his fingertips with her own.

  He stared at her, despair in his eyes. "He knows, ma belle,” he said, hearing the despair in his own voice. “His father will have told him by now and painted me in the blackest of colours. I’m going to lose him."

  She took his hand, holding it to her lips and kissing his fingers. "He is your friend, Corin, surely he will let you explain, and when he hears ..."

  Corin shook his head as his heart began to pound, knowing just what it was he faced now. "I have lied to him, not outright, perhaps, not by design, but he will not see it like that.” Memories of other arguments, far less serious than this, rose in his mind. Laen’s anger had always been astonishing to him. Like he was possessed, saying and doing things that he would never have normally considered, and hurting his only friend as badly as he could with deadly precision. “To him, a lie of omission is still a lie, and that is something I have never done, swore I would never do. I’ve always been truthful, ma belle, until now. That alone is enough to gain his anger, and as for the rest ... he is not going to forgive that easily, if at all."

  “You’ll make him listen, Corin,” Claudette said, and he knew she understood just how much this meant to him, what it would mean to him to lose Laen’s support, his friendship. “He must understand that you had no choice.”

  He leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “I’m afraid,” he said, his voice soft, aching with regret. “I’m so terribly afraid that he will not.”

  The sound of a door crashing open echoed around the room, and they looked up to see Laen filling the doorway. His magic rippled around him, distorting everything close to him as it shimmered, his dark eyes blazing.

  Real fear coiled in Corin’s belly and he sucked in a breath, knowing that he’d likely lost this battle before it had even begun. He was too late. He kissed Claudette and squeezed her hand. “Leave us now, please, ma belle.”

  She stared at Laen before looking back at Corin with compassion in her eyes.

  “I’ll be just outside the door,” she whispered. He watched as she called the wolves and Cerberus, who were all unwilling to leave, sensing trouble in the atmosphere. Corin watched her walk away, hardly daring to meet Laen’s eyes for fear of what he would see there. Taking a breath, then, and with his heart pounding in his chest, he looked up and faced his oldest friend.

  Chapter 19

  “Tell me it isn’t true.”

  Laen’s voice was harsh and angry, but there was an edge to it, a note of anguish that begged Corin to deny it. Corin looked back at him, helpless, quite unable to do as he asked. “Please, tell me he’s lying,” he repeated, the words urgent, a frantic glitter in his eyes as Corin realised that he had always known it would end like this.

  He turned away, unable to bear the desperation in Laen’s eyes, unwilling to see his expression when he told him the truth. He couldn’t bear it. “I am so desperately sorry, Laen. I would give anything to be able to say that.”

  He sensed movement and looked around to see Laen bearing down on him and knew what was coming, but he didn’t move to defend himself. The fist that connected with his jaw did not hurt half so much as the fury in Laen’s eyes as he hit him. Corin went down, sprawled on the floor with Laen standing over him, such a look in his eyes that Corin’s heart clenched. He wiped the blood from his mouth on his sleeve, wishing he had the words to explain himself, and knowing there were not words enough in the world to make Laen understand.

  “Get up,” Laen said, his voice as cruel and as cold as the wind that was howling around the castle.

  Corin did as he commanded, discovering that his hands were shaking as he turned to face Laen once more.

  Laen shoved him, hard, and Corin staggered backwards. “You lying bastard!” he shouted, every line of his body tense, his face snarling with anger. “You looked me in the face and swore that you would never betray me.” His voice grew thicker now, some deeper emotion showing through his rage, and Corin could hardly bear to meet his eyes, they were so full of pain.

  Corin shook his head, needing to try at least to salvage something from this terrible affair. “I thought it was true, Laen,” he said, hoping he could hear the truth of his words. He hadn’t lied then. “I swear when I said that, I thought … I hoped that I could do it … but
I can’t.” He took a hesitant step forward, holding out his hands to his oldest friend, his voice pleading. “I swear to you, I swear upon my honour, upon everything that I love, that if I could leave it, if I could walk away from it … I would. I don’t want it, Laen. I don’t want any of it. If I could give it to you or turn things around, change them back to how they were, I would do it in a heartbeat.” He swallowed, blinking as his eyes burned, willing Laen to understand the truth. “I would do anything … anything at all, rather than lose your friendship.”

  Laen shook his head, breathing hard, just staring at him in shock. Corin’s heart ached for the pain he was causing him, understanding just how badly he had let him down. He could only imagine what his father had said to him, how the man must have taunted and provoked him.

  They stood in silence, neither one of them knowing what to say, both of them knowing that there was no coming back from this. When Laen finally spoke, his voice was barely more than a whisper.

  “I told him he was wrong, I said he had to be wrong ... I ...” His voice cracked and he turned away, putting his head in his hands.

  Corin felt a lump in his throat. He had to try and save this before everything went to hell. Surely there was something he could say, something that could make it right? It wasn’t the first time they had rowed, after all, they had come to blows many times over the years. Threatened to kill each other, said they hated each other, stretched their friendship to the breaking point … but never like this before. He racked his brain for something to say, for a way to explain, anything at all.

  “Laen, do you remember the pie?”

  “What?” Laen turned and looked at him, his expression incredulous. “What on earth are you on about?”

  Corin cleared his throat, wondering if he was actually insane, but he had nothing else to try. “We were children, not more than eight, I think. You were at the palace with me. I had asked Mother if you could come and she refused. She said your father would be furious, so I smuggled you in.” He stood, watching Laen, his words cautious, but at least Laen was listening to him. “Do you remember?”

  “Of course I remember,” he snapped, scowling. “I damn near suffocated in that bloody packing trunk!”

  Corin smiled, though he had never felt less like doing so. “There was a marvellous cook at the palace. A miserable old woman who hated small boys, but she had made the most magnificent apple pie, and I determined to have it. I had laid my plans carefully, but when I returned to the kitchen, it was already gone. You remember?”

  Laen folded his massive arms, his expression unimpressed. “No.”

  Corin carried on, praying this would mean something to Laen, as it did to him. “I was discovered by the cook, where the pie should have been, and being well-known for thieving from the kitchen, I was soundly thrashed despite my protests of innocence. I ran from the palace in a fury of indignation to be told by one of the stable lads that you had already taken the pie.” He watched Laen as he spoke, hoping the memory might remind him of happier, more innocent times, but he didn’t react. “Well, I was incensed that he should tell such filthy lies, as I knew without a shadow of a doubt you would never do such a thing. You would never steal something you knew I wanted, and then let me take the blame for it. So I fought him, broke his nose, and then received another thrashing when he went bawling to his father.” Corin laughed, though it was a stark sound, echoing around the vast space. “Gods, my arse burned, it was a full week before I could sit down without wincing.”

  “Is there a point to this story, Corin?” Laen demanded, his eyes hard and far too cold.

  “Of course,” Corin replied, finding his heart was thudding too hard, so fast that it was hard to breath, let alone speak. “When I returned to you, I found that you had, indeed, stolen the pie. I was furious,” he said, remembering how shocked he’d been that Laen had let him take the blame. “Until you explained that you had heard the kitchen staff gossiping and knew that they were watching me. You knew I would be caught and that I would get a thrashing, and the pie would be confiscated before I even got a taste, so you had taken it first. You said, this way I still took a beating but I did, at least, get the pie …” Corin smiled, trying hard to keep his voice from trembling. “You remember?”

  Laen nodded, though his demeanour didn’t change. “I remember,” he said, his tone disinterested at best. “What of it? What has that to do with this?”

  Corin turned away, unable to look at his cold expression any longer. He walked to the window, looking out at the sleet that clattered against the glass, covering the castle grounds in a freezing blanket of tiny white crystals. “I am going to take a beating on the Field of Kings, Laen,” he said, quite unable to hide the fear in his voice. “No matter what happens, whether I win or lose, I will be punished for everything I’ve done. If, by some miracle, I actually survive and I am indeed king of all three lands, I would have you standing beside me. If you are not there …” He broke off, unable to say anything further. Corin closed his eyes and prayed, prayed that he would not have to face this on top of everything else, even though he knew this man too well, knew what was coming as surely as he had done from the start.

  He forced himself to turn around, to see Laen pacing back and forth, his emotions clearly in turmoil as his magic boiled around him now. It swirled dark patterns, sucking the light from the room as Corin watched his anger grow, watched the need for retribution building, his desire to lash out. He turned, then, his furious gaze settling on Corin, his eyes full of accusation. “You can’t fix it with pretty words, Corin,” he said, his tone savage. “Not this time. You’ve made a fool of me, all of these years. Everything I have endured, for the sake of your friendship. The rumours and the taunting …” He took a breath, shaking his head, his fists clenched as the desire to do violence rolled off him in waves. “I swallowed my pride for you. I have let you persuade me black was white. You have crooked your finger and I have come running once too often. He was right. He was right all along. I cannot ... I cannot!”

  The words were shouted with such rage that Corin closed his eyes, his heart filled with sorrow. He had lost. “That ... is your father speaking,” he said, as misery welled up in his chest. He was tired, too tired, he could not keep fighting everyone, all the time.

  “I trusted you!” Laen spat, the words full of such venom that Corin flinched. Laen strode towards him, one huge fist clenched, raised towards him. “You lied to me. You swore you would never lie to me and you have. What else was a lie?”

  Corin stiffened, that was King Braed. He could hear Laen’s father, could hear the way he had twisted things to turn his son against him. He’d done it before, but Corin had never let him win. He had fought so hard. “I did not lie!” Corin shouted, his own magic flaring to life, desperately hurt by the implication that this wasn’t the first time he’d done it. “I told you it was possible I could take Mechstrana, and I said I would never betray you. I admit that,” he said, his own voice full of rage now, rage at the unfairness of it all. “But that was because I was determined to fight it, Laen, not because I was lying to you.” He paused, staring at Laen, praying he could find some way to understand how terrified he was. “I was willing to do anything, anything at all to stop it from happening, but I was too afraid to admit the truth to you - that I might not be able to stop it. I was a coward for not telling you there and then.” His voice grew uneven with the admission. “But this,” he said, gesturing with fury at Laen and the boiling black anger of his magic. “This is what I feared!”

  “Liar!” Laen exploded, making Corin flinch with shock. “My father was right.” He put his hands in his hair, clutching at it in fury. “Gods! Do you have the slightest idea how it makes me feel to say that?” he demanded, his face desperate now. “Have you any idea how much it hurts to know that he told me this would happen? That, when it really mattered, you would let me down. He warned me over and over again not to follow you so blindly, not to believe in you, but ... but I ...” His voice fa
ltered his jaw locked tight as he stood with his hands clenched into fists.

  “And now you believe him ... over me?” Corin asked, the pain of betrayal hard to bear, incredulous that the man who had abandoned him as a child and shown no interest in him since would be so readily listened to now.

  “Yes,” Laen snarled. “Now I do.”

  Corin stepped closer to him, pointing at him as fury pushed his heartache aside. "When has he ever been there when you needed him, Laen?” he demanded, wondering if this was his reward for so many years of friendship, for so many occasions when he could have turned his back and not given his forgiveness when it was needed. “Tell me, when has he ever supported you? You never turned to him when you were in trouble, never!" Corin shouted, enraged that his father could have finally undermined their friendship so effectively when he had been trying so hard for almost two centuries with no success.

  "No!" Laen yelled in return, a feverish light in his eyes now. "I never did, but maybe I should have. How long have you been lying to me? What else between us is a lie? You hid your power from me and you didn't tell me that you were going to take my father's kingdom. You let me follow you, let me bring his army to your aid when all the time ..." He stopped, such rage in his black eyes that Corin for once did not know what to say to calm him, did not know how to find the right words to mend what had been so irrevocably broken.

  "I have never lied to you, Laen,” he yelled. “On this occasion, I did not tell you the whole truth, perhaps, but an outright lie? No! Never! On my honour ..."

  "Your honour?" Laen slung back at him with a mirthless laugh. "Gods, that's rich!"

  Corin started like he'd been slapped. He realised now that Laen really believed he’d been playing him false … lying to him for all these years. "Laen, please,” he said, pleading in his voice now, any shred of pride long gone. He would fall to his knees if that was what it took to make Laen believe him. “Remember what has passed between us. Remember everything we have been through. You cannot, I beg you, you cannot believe I have been playing you false all these years?"