by Aaron Ehasz
Katolis was on the brink of great things. Viren could feel it.
The energy of newness and possibility was still in the air days later, when the royal family posed for their first portraits together in the throne room. King Harrow was so giddy he could barely stand still. The artist was at his wit’s end trying to paint the king.
“Are we done yet?” Harrow asked through a frozen smile. “It looks pretty done to me.”
“Baby Ezran and little Callum have more patience for their portraits than you, My King,” Viren said.
“I don’t doubt that,” King Harrow said. “Can I move now?”
The painter shrugged. He was mostly finished.
“Phew,” King Harrow said. Everyone relaxed their portrait faces.
“Hold on, you’re not free yet,” Viren said. “The king must pose for one more.”
“Ah, my official portrait,” King Harrow said. “For the history books and whatnot.”
“You don’t care to impress the history books?” Viren asked. He would love to have his portrait passed down from generation to generation in venerable tomes.
King Harrow beckoned toward Viren. “Why don’t you join me, Viren?” he said.
“But … this is your official portrait as king,” Viren said. It wouldn’t be right for him to stand with King Harrow … as much as he wanted to.
“Yes. And you should stand next to me—as I know you will stand by me through anything,” King Harrow said.
Viren nodded and walked silently to stand next to the king. He stood up straight as a rod, looked directly in front of him, and was careful not to move a muscle for the entire session.
Queen Sarai did not consider herself an idealist as her husband did—rather, she called herself an “optimistic realist.” Even so, her realism was in no way complacent or accepting of the status quo. She wanted to do things differently—to change the world.
The evening after the coronation, when many new monarchs would have been celebrating, she wound down from the day in her chambers with baby Ezran and her husband. Queen Sarai had been circling the room with a tired, fussing baby when Harrow entered, holding something behind his back.
“I brought you a surprise,” he said.
Queen Sarai smiled. Harrow was always doing little things like that—showing up with something small but sweet and unexpected. This time, he pulled out an entire tray of jelly tarts and placed it on the bed.
“Jelly tarts in bed?” Queen Sarai asked. It seemed indulgent, even for royalty.
“We are the king and queen now. We can do whatever we want,” Harrow replied mischievously.
Queen Sarai laughed at the absurdity of doing whatever she wanted. She’d never believed that was the role of a monarch.
King Harrow gazed at her and the baby, but then his gaze seemed to drift. He suddenly seemed far away—his body was present, but his mind was somewhere else.
“What are you thinking about?” Sarai asked.
“Baby Ezran is a lucky boy,” he said. “Born a prince, as I was. But there are so many in our kingdom who were born with less.”
Queen Sarai placed Ezran on the bed in his swaddle and reached over for King Harrow’s shoulder.
“What troubles you?” she asked.
“Why do I deserve this? What did I do, except being born … with everything?” Harrow asked.
“You are humble and grateful and kind,” Queen Sarai said.
“Sarai, my father told me that above all, I must be a just king. The night he died, Lady Justice came to me in a dream.”
“I’m generally not in favor of strange women coming to you in dreams, but this time, I’ll make an exception,” Queen Sarai said with a smile.
Harrow stood and walked over toward the fire. He stared into the flames as he spoke.
“Lady Justice said that justice was more than fair decisions and fair consequences—true justice was a fair system. Then she laid before me her scales, her sword, and her blindfold, and told me to choose.”
Queen Sarai knew immediately which item her husband had chosen—even in his dream. “You chose the blindfold,” she said.
He nodded. “I did. She said the blindfold gives us a way to test the system.” Harrow covered his own eyes with his hand. “She said that I should use it to imagine I had not been born yet—and that I did not know if I would be born rich or poor, what color my skin would be, what culture or practices my family would have. That a fair system should be fair no matter the accident of my birth. That the rights and laws and opportunities within the system should stand to protect and empower everyone.”
He uncovered his eyes and looked at the queen searchingly.
Queen Sarai stood up and softly approached her thoughtful husband. “You’re especially inspiring when you say things like that … with jelly smeared on your nose,” she said, smiling.
“What?” Harrow flushed with embarrassment as he put his hand to his nose. He’d been pouring his heart out with a nose covered in red jam. So, Queen Sarai did the only thing she could think of—she licked the jelly off his nose.
“Gross,” King Harrow said.
“Quite the contrary. Delicious!” The queen laughed.
It wasn’t long after Harrow took the throne that the queens of Duren came to visit Katolis. Duren was in trouble, and the queens needed help. They were elegant and formal. When they entered Harrow’s throne room, they stood side by side and immediately knelt.
King Harrow couldn’t accept this display of humility.
“No, please—you don’t have to kneel,” he said, standing up from his throne.
But they remained on their knees.
“We are here to humble ourselves, and beg for your help,” Queen Annika said. Her cropped, snow-white hair was tucked behind her golden crown and her hair partially covered her sad eyes.
“The kingdom of Duren has been suffering from a terrible famine for nearly seven years,” Queen Neha added. She looked up at the king and brushed a long, braided lock away from her face. Her pale blue makeup highlighted the sincerity of her dark brown features. “Our food and resources are almost gone. This winter, we will run out of food, and a hundred thousand people will die.” She closed her eyes as if she couldn’t bear to contemplate the casualties.
The queens were both pale and wan. King Harrow knew that Duren had struggled, but he was unaware of the severity. He couldn’t bear to think of others starving while the people of Katolis had plenty.
Harrow leaped out of his throne, eager to help.
“We will come to your aid,” he said. “The kingdom of Katolis will share all that it has with the people of Duren.”
The queens seemed to breathe easier almost immediately. Their faces shone with relief and gratitude. Queen Neha touched Queen Annika’s arm and looked at her with tears in her eyes.
At last, Harrow felt that he could do some significant good in the world. But before he could put plans in place, he felt someone tugging on the sleeve of his robe like a small child. Viren.
“What is it, Viren?” King Harrow asked. He shook the high mage’s hand from his sleeve.
“King Harrow, if you’ll excuse me,” Viren said. “Before you dig yourself into a deeper hole, we must consult.”
“Very well,” the king said. He excused himself and followed Viren into his study.
“Well?” the king said. “What’s your concern?”
“My King—with respect … you spoke too soon,” Viren said. “Katolis has barely enough food to sustain its own people through the winter—there is not a handful of grain to spare.”
“Viren, I cannot turn my back on people in need,” King Harrow said. The struggles that plagued the kingdom of Duren were a perfect example of the inequality of life. Just because a family was born in Duren and not Katolis, they would starve to death this winter? This situation made no sense.
“If you share with Duren, one hundred thousand people may still die—but half of them will be from our own kingdom,” Viren said.
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“Then it seems we have no choice,” King Harrow said.
“Exactly. I’m sure they will understand …”
Harrow smiled. No one ever understood a refusal of help. “Viren, we will share whatever we have with them. And we will share in their suffering.”
The high mage could barely conceal his shock and disgust at this course of action. But he said nothing.
Later that day, Harrow returned to the king’s tower. He stood on the balcony, musing over the commitment he had made. Was it a foolhardy promise? Was Viren correct? What if he’d condemned his own people to a winter of starvation and death?
The king was about to send for Viren when the high mage walked out onto the balcony weighed down by a tower of scrolls and books. “I have been doing research!” Viren announced gleefully. “I’ve spent the past few hours poring over ancient texts and maps in the archives. I may have found something that could save lives. A creative solution!”
“Well, go on. Tell me,” King Harrow said eagerly.
“Behold,” Viren said. And with an entirely unnecessary flourish, he opened his fist and revealed what appeared to be a dark gray mass of granite.
“Viren, it’s a rock,” King Harrow said. “I mean, it’s a great rock, don’t get me wrong.”
“This ‘rock’ is, in fact, a rare relic from Xadia,” Viren said, holding it up at eye level so he could admire it. “It’s a very small piece of a very big monster, a rocky giant who lives high in the mountains: a magma titan.”
He tossed the rock to King Harrow, who turned it over in his hands. “It’s very warm,” the king said.
“Yes,” Viren replied. “The titan lives close to the border of Xadia. If we can hunt this monster, and slay it, I can use the heart of the titan in a powerful spell that will warm the land and allow us to magically grow an incredible bounty.”
“Enough to feed two kingdoms?” King Harrow asked.
“Enough to feed ten kingdoms,” Viren said.
It was all so tempting. By hunting this titan, everyone would have enough food without human sacrifice. At the same time, it went against the principles Harrow and Sarai had agreed on. Hard work and unity in hardship. Peace. Justice. Besides, Harrow wasn’t interested in killing. Even if it was just a monster. What’s more, the mission was sure to be risky.
“Crossing the border is dangerous,” King Harrow said. “From dawn to dusk, the king of the dragons soars high above the continent and can see a thousand miles—he guards Xadia jealously. He has always spotted human invaders within minutes. You know all this.”
But Viren had thought out all the angles.
“That’s why this must be a night mission,” he said. “We will enter Xadia at dark, and be out again before sunrise.”
Harrow considered this approach, thinking of every little thing that could possibly go wrong. “Even if we somehow succeed, and return with the heart of this titan … the spell … are you certain it will work?” he asked.
Viren nodded slowly.
Unfortunately, it seemed like killing the titan was the only chance to save a hundred thousand lives. But Harrow could not commit to this mission without consulting his queen.
It was midday, the sun was bright, and Queen Sarai had just jabbed King Harrow in the side with a wooden spear. “It’s a mistake, Harrow,” she said. “I don’t like this plan one bit.”
Harrow stepped back as she shoved the spear deep into his rib cage.
“Sarai, we’re just sparring,” he said with a gasp. “Take it easy. Anyway, why do you have such a problem with Viren’s magma titan plan? We kill one monster to save a hundred thousand people.”
Queen Sarai wondered why Harrow would bother to get her opinion if he was so sure Viren’s plan was solid.
“You keep calling it a monster,” she said. She pressed her shoulder against his, staring him down.
“Yes, it’s a giant beast made of rock and magma,” he said. “I call that a monster.”
“Is it intelligent?” Queen Sarai asked. She twirled around, spun her spear, and disarmed Harrow. His spear flew into the air and clattered to the courtyard grounds—well out of his reach.
“What?” he asked. “What do you mean, ‘Is it intelligent?’ ” He had his arms up to block the incoming jabs.
“Does it think? Does it feel?” she asked. Jab. Jab. He had no response. “Does it have a family?” Harrow was backing up, trying to create enough distance between himself and Sarai to grab his sword from his waist.
“I sincerely doubt it has a family,” he said. He yanked out the sword and whipped it up in front of his face.
“Well, then, is it the last of its kind?” she asked.
“Why does any of that matter?” he asked.
Queen Sarai believed Harrow had always been too easily swayed by Viren’s creative solutions. Dark magic was always just a little too easy. “I know it seems like this will solve things,” she said. “But could it possibly cause more problems?”
“Like what? And anyway, what choice do we have?” Harrow asked. He rushed at Sarai with a high inside attack and pushed her back on the defensive. The king’s swordsmanship was excellent.
“You said you want to build a better world, to really change things—but that’s going to take decades of hard work.” Queen Sarai was pacing the courtyard now. Harrow was spent. She would finish him off in minutes. “There’s a special kind of courage that you need for consistency and perseverance,” she said. “There’s no monster you can slay to solve all your problems. There’s no shortcut.”
Queen Sarai wanted the best for the kingdom of Duren, but she wanted to solve problems the way she and Harrow had planned in their long, late-night discussions. Those plans had never included dark magic. She raised her spear and turned to face her husband.
“This is going to be a very slippery slope!” she yelled. Then she charged, overwhelming him with blows, and forced Harrow onto the ground.
“Harrow, please tell me you won’t do this,” she said.
But he didn’t respond.
Later that day, once King Harrow had bathed and recovered from sparring with Sarai, he sent for the queens of Duren to meet him and Lord Viren in the throne room. He’d had a few hours to reflect on what Sarai had said—and why he had even been motivated to get her opinion in the first place. He no longer wanted to use dark magic to help.
“My Queens,” Harrow said, “Katolis will do everything we can to help the people of Duren. We will share all the grain that we—”
“No—King Harrow, we must decline your offer,” Queen Neha interrupted.
“What?” he asked. He passed a hand through his thick hair in shock. Why would they refuse any help at all? That was certain death for their people.
Queen Neha looked at Queen Annika, who nodded solemnly. She wiped a tear from her cheek. “We have learned that Katolis barely has enough food for its own people. We cannot accept such a sacrifice,” she said.
King Harrow could barely speak. He could hazard a guess as to who told the queens about Katolis’s mediocre grain supply. He was certain the queens had been forced into this moral dilemma.
“Very well,” he said. There was no use arguing, but he hated to feel so powerless. He sank back into his throne.
“The people of Duren are strong,” Viren said. “We know you will face the hardship of the coming winter with bravery and grace.”
The queens bowed and turned to exit. But King Harrow couldn’t bear it—couldn’t bear to let them go back to their people empty-handed.
“No, stop,” he said, standing up from the throne. He looked at Viren and nodded. “I can’t let you leave like this. There may be a way to help everyone—the people of both our kingdoms.”
He knew his decision would disappoint Queen Sarai, and that weighed heavily on him. But the thought of so many innocent people starving to death outweighed his sense of right and wrong.
King Harrow knew there was no time to lose if they were going to kill the magma titan.
By early evening, he had assembled the party at the gates of the kingdom. Viren and Queens Neha and Annika were there, as well as Sarai’s sister, General Amaya, who would lead many troops on horseback. The mission was dangerous and Harrow’s heart was heavy, but he was there, ready to lead.
“We will enter Xadia through the Breach,” King Harrow said loudly. “There we can pick up supplies and—”
But before he could finish, Queen Sarai galloped up to the group. She was dressed in full battle armor. The creases on King Harrow’s face softened. This mission suddenly seemed doable.
“Queen Sarai,” Harrow said. He couldn’t understand her change of heart.
“Yes, Harrow, I’m here,” she said. “I disagree with this choice—but I stand by you anyway.”
Harrow’s heart melted. He didn’t deserve this wonderful woman. As the castle gates opened and everyone galloped off, Harrow grabbed Sarai’s wrist to keep her back with him for a moment alone.
“Thank you,” he said. Queen Sarai had never looked as beautiful as at that moment. He couldn’t even begin to express himself.
“I think this was in our marriage vows, right?” Queen Sarai asked. She grabbed King Harrow’s hand in her own and smiled at him. “Something about keeping you alive when you’re acting like a brave idiot?
“Come on,” she said. There was a monster to slay and a kingdom to save.
Harrow’s confidence in the mission soared as they traveled to the Xadian border. Sometimes he felt like Sarai was the source of his strength and energy. He couldn’t imagine facing this world without her.
With Queen Sarai by his side, he was part of a bold adventure—a union of two human kingdoms bound to each other against the threats from the mystical world across the Breach.
As the group approached the Breach, Harrow and Sarai could see the river of lava swirling ominously, oozing and sizzling with red-hot magma. Harrow swiftly guided the group through the rocky, unstable terrain, drawing on his years of training when he was crown prince.
