by Paris Hansch
Anton jerked away. “Let me come with you. I’ve—”
“No, I’ll take care of this.” It was for his own good; he wouldn’t be able to handle the stress. His episodes had lessened over the years, but there was no telling when they’d return.
Hurt flashed across Anton’s face. “You’ll take care of this? I suppose that’s why you’re wasting your time with that temptress, then. You realize that servant girl has caused nothing short of natural disasters throughout the castle lately. What, with an avalanche of snow at the gates, all the fireplaces smothered, a mass of breakages in the pantries—”
“That’s enough,” said Alexander. “Accidents happen. There’s no logical way that any normal person could have caused that, especially Mina.” His little brother was always trying to pin things on her like a jealous child. Maybe if he had more time to spend with Anton, he’d be less bitter.
“That’s because the girl’s not normal.” Anton straightened his back. “I’ve warned you about her from day one. There’s something not right about that girl, and yet, you would divulge the secrets of Anadrieth because she bats her eyelashes before you would tell your own flesh and blood.”
Alexander exhaled. When would he ever let this one go? It was only natural that his brother would be suspicious of strangers after their parents were assassinated, but Mina had been with them for two years. He patted Anton on the shoulder as he walked away. “I’ll take it into consideration,” he called out, heading straight for the head councilor’s chambers.
If Alexander trusted her, that should be enough. There was no reason for his brother to be concerning himself with these matters. He had it under control, and it allowed his siblings to have their freedom. Anton wasn’t under the scrutiny of Anadrieth’s council. He was free to do as he pleased, he was free to go wherever he wanted, he was free to marry whomever he liked. And he treated the privilege like it was nothing. Alexander grimaced.
Alexander rapped at his councilor’s door. A few moments later, Councilor Dallan appeared before him, his robes haphazardly thrown on.
“Forgive me, my lord. I didn’t expect you this early.” He straightened his collar, gesturing him inside. “I do hope this isn’t about your intentions with that servant girl again.”
Alexander ignored the comment and strode in without a word, handing him the letter. It wasn’t the moment to bring up Mina, but he wasn’t going to let it go. The councilor took it, stroking his graying beard. Dallan had been his father’s head councilor, too, and he’d been his greatest confidant and mentor through his own transition to leadership.
Councilor Dallan frowned, and several lines creased his forehead. “This is most certainly terrible news to wake up to.” He shook his head slightly. “In all my years, I’ve never seen a situation escalate this fast.”
Alexander raised his hands. “What can I do? I’ve sent word to His Imperial Highness, but with the state of things, I’m not sure we can count on his support.”
Councilor Dallan paced across the room, his arms crossed. “I believe you’re right.” He stopped and stared out the window.
Alexander joined him. The glass was frosted over, but he could still see the training grounds from here. He watched his soldiers starting their morning drills.
“If it comes to an all-out battle,” said Councilor Dallan, “we will lose without question. And thousands of Anadese lives will be threatened. The Lanadese barbarians are said to be built like two men in one, and they have the power of blackscale on their side. Not only that, but their alliance with the northern region of Calvera with their stonewood makes things impossible.”
Alexander nodded grimly. The Calverans were rumored to be half-giants, their statures towering over normal men; combined with the two strongest materials in the empire, they were a formidable force. The great Calveran stonewood trees made for an impregnable defense, and Lanadese blackscale was the only metal sturdy enough to break it.
Alexander fiddled with his sword hilt—ordinary steel, like all of their weapons. Their own natural resource, the silverlight trees of the Celestine Forest, were completely useless as weapons. The lightweight material could be sharpened enough to be deadly, but like his table, it was easily broken. Even against all odds, there was no way that they were getting out of this unharmed.
Councilor Dallan clasped his hands behind his back. “There might be one solution.”
Alexander glanced up. “Anything.”
“Eloria,” said Councilor Dallan. “We could propose an alliance with Eloria.”
Alexander rubbed his forehead. Their coastal neighbor to the east, Eloria was twice their size, and their special food was said to make one man fight like ten. Their presence and support would make Lanadrin think twice about an all-out war. “But we have nothing of value to offer them. Lord Reinhardt and I barely know each other.”
Councilor Dallan had a glint in his eye. “Lord Reinhardt, like you, is an unmarried man. And Lady Adelia has become a young woman that any man would go to war for.”
Alexander furrowed his brows. “My little sister?”
Councilor Dallan nodded. “You do realize that regardless of whether we surrender or fight, if the worst should happen, you and your brother will most certainly be killed. In the hands of someone like Lord Tamar, what do you think will happen to Lady Adelia?”
Alexander swallowed. After the untimely death of Lord Tamar’s wife, the rumors were that he went slightly insane, kidnapping women all over the empire. He was not a man of reason by any means. His sister would definitely be at his mercy.
“If Lady Adelia is in Eloria, she’ll not only be useful in preventing war, but she will be out of harm’s way,” said Councilor Dallan. He was now staring directly at him, his steely eyes boring into his skull. “When people find out about this, they need to know that there is hope, something to hold onto. Otherwise, who knows who might turn on you.”
Alexander stared at his feet, slowly nodding his head. He made a good point. The last thing he wanted was for his sister to be in the hands of some barbarian warlord. What would Mina think of this?
A true Lord of Anadrieth should be willing to go to whatever end to protect his people.
His late father was right.
Councilor Dallan held out a quill. “Then, it would be best not to waste time.”
Alexander took it. His head councilor always had excellent judgment; Adelia would be safe in Eloria and have the life she deserved. This was their best chance—for all of them.
And it might be their only one.
Chapter Two
Anton
Lord Anton stared incredulously at his brother’s back as he waltzed off without another word. Anton’s jaw twitched, and he turned on his heel, heading for the western quarters. War was practically on their doorstep, and Alexander was busy messing about with that servant girl. What in dragon’s name was he thinking? No doubt that temptress knew exactly what she was doing. She didn’t deserve to be called by name.
Amnesia? Utter nonsense.
Anton shook his head, his pace increasing. If everyone used that flimsy excuse, they’d be overrun with beggars and assassins alike. His brother confided in that girl more than he confided in him. In fact, it seemed like Alexander confided in everyone more than him, whether it be about the fate of their homeland or what was on next week’s supper list. Everyone apart from their sister, of course. He couldn’t remember a time when Alexander gave a dragon’s claw about what the two of them thought. Or their people, for that matter. When was the last time Alexander had met with a commoner? He’d only heard the cries of his people through the filtered words of his council.
At least there was one place he could go where someone would listen to him. Anton paused in his tracks as a loud crash echoed through the halls. He clenched his fists. It could only be that temptress. Unfortunately, the quickest way to his destination was through the servants’ quarters. He stood in the doorway, watching the servant girl practically drown in broken crockery.
There was no one else around, so it was definitely her fault, but of course, no one was here to see it, as usual. The girl seemed like she expected every disaster, unlike most of their maids, who would be panicking as though their lives depended on it. In a way, it did; these things cost gold, and Anadrieth’s extensive treasury had taken a huge blow in their pre-emptive efforts to prepare for battle.
“I made sure her grave was well tended to, Anton.”
Anton opened his mouth. The girl hadn’t even turned around to look at him. She was still cleaning up the mess on the floor. She didn’t address him properly, and she acted like she didn’t even need to. Come to think of it, he had never heard her use an honorary title before.
Wait, did she say “grave”?
Anadrieth’s official graveyard was on the other side of the castle. The girl couldn’t possibly have known where he was headed. He blinked. Barely anyone even knew that it was there in the first place.
“What do you mean?” It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to say.
The girl stood and gazed at him. Like endless pools of pure ink, her eyes pulled him into their depths, ensnaring him. Though the room was already cold, what little warmth there was seemed to evaporate.
“The only grave that’s there,” she said, a hint of confusion in her voice. “The one you visit every day.”
Anton swallowed, but his throat was dry. No one ever paid attention to what he did—not the second son, the spare. She was dangerous. The girl returned to her task, preparing yet another tea tray. Her movements were graceful, elegant, and she reminded him of a lyrecrane. Far too graceful, in fact, for someone whose very presence seemed to cause one accident after another. How dare that girl intrude on his sanctuary? What if she had somehow ruined that, too? His scar stung, and he shook his head.
“I don’t care what you were doing. Don’t ever return there again.” His words held the appropriate amount of bite this time, and he didn’t wait for her response. She had certainly stolen enough time from him today as it was.
Anton stormed through the servants’ quarters. It was deserted at this hour of the morning as the staff scattered about the castle, seeing to their duties. He slipped out of the castle, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders. The nerve of that girl. Who did she think she was? Just because his siblings took a liking to her didn’t mean that she had any real leverage. Even most of the servants gossiped about the girl, as well. Dragons, the whole castle did, and they had every right to. A mildly attractive girl showing up out of the blue, rescued from the brink of death, apparently remembering nothing but a name, then immediately given the position of his sister’s handmaiden—it was ridiculous. They should never have patrolled the border that day.
His boots squelched in the snow as he left a trail of footprints behind him. The little trek never felt like an inconvenience; it was more like a gift. The air out here was crisper and cleaner. The noise of the castle faded away, along with the judgment, the contempt, and was replaced by a wonderful silence—out here, he was truly at home.
Anton made his way into the little clearing where the only sounds present were the trickling stream and occasional bird calls. Faint blue lights danced in the stream, fading into different colors across the snow and trees. They always danced just out of reach, as though they were willing to be seen but not touched. They tended to appear everywhere, though the lights mostly showed up here, where he was at his calmest. In the center of the clearing, under a single tree, a small stone was nestled, misshapen and unlike the other stones chosen for proper graves. It didn’t matter, though; it was perfect.
Anton frowned as he approached. There was a small bunch of winter lilies lying in front of the stone. The brambles that had been endlessly creeping back into the area, even just yesterday, had withered away, their thorns no longer threatening to ensnare his sanctuary. He was constantly chipping away at them, but they had always proven to grow too fast. He shivered, though it wasn’t because of the cold.
That girl.
She couldn’t have done this. She must have had help—or some kind of ulterior motive. It was unlikely that anyone would help with a useless job like this, though. He most definitely didn’t like that the girl had been here. Anton sat beside the stone, shaking off the feeling. He could deal with it later, but for now, he was here. He laid a gentle hand on the stone, brushing his fingers over the crude engraving.
Here lies Lady Doll the Kind-hearted. Year 2150.
His brother had done this for him eleven years ago, an ode to the name Anton had called her. Of course, Doll hadn’t been a true lady of Anadrieth; his nursemaid was nothing more than the Winter family’s servant, and neither was her body actually lying beneath the stone. There wasn’t a body left to find, after all. Anton felt the corners of his mouth turn up, the slight movement the only form of a smile he had left.
“Mama, it’s me.” He closed his eyes. It’s me, Anton the Brave, he thought, her comforting voice echoing in his head. “It’s winter lily season again. They’re growing in the middle of the forest. I’ve always wanted to plant some for you—I know they’re your favorite—but they don’t take to the earth here.” They were beautiful, just like her.
Anton laid back, his hands clasped behind his head. “But at least the bearions are in hibernation, so we don’t have to worry about that…” He continued on for several minutes, filling her in on yesterday’s events. She was always a good listener. He could feel her arms wrap around him, the warmth of her lips pressing against his cheek. After a pause, Anton sat up.
“Mama, war is coming. I might not be able to come as often anymore. I hope you’ll understand.” Doll always understood. He grimaced. “But my brother doesn’t trust me to handle anything, as usual. No one does. Do you think I should keep trying to talk to him?”
Anton could see her smile and nod, the pretty dimple showing on her right side. “You’re right, as always. I don’t know if he’ll listen, though. He hasn’t even let me go on a real patrol yet, let alone something as terrifying as…” He rubbed his arms, shivering a little. The empire had been peaceful for over two thousand years. Was war really terrifying? Everyone seemed to be afraid of it, though no one had experienced it.
It was strange. Every region had its own army, developed weapons and strategies and spent their time training for combat. Sure, there were minor skirmishes here and there; even his brother had fought in a few of them. But it was like they had been preparing for a war that would never come. It was too convenient that now would suddenly be the time when war was upon them; humans couldn’t possibly have gotten along happily for this long. Anton shook his head. He wasn’t a history fanatic like his sister, but it was still something that even he had noticed.
Anton squinted in the distance as he spied a figure jogging toward him. He grimaced, recognizing the man’s easy gait.
Of all the people to bother me now…
Ban approached him with a broad smile, not even slightly out of breath. He stood with a hand on his hip, his collar unbuttoned. The rigid uniform, which produced crisp edges on every soldier, seemed to slip easily over his shoulders and follow the natural curves of his physique. He looked every bit his father’s son but acted nothing like the general.
“Fancy running into you here,” said Ban, winking.
Anton rolled his eyes. “Hardly. You clearly ran to me. Whatever it is you want, speak quickly.”
Ban gestured at the ground as though he didn’t catch that Anton wanted to be left alone. “May I sit?”
“No,” Anton snapped. As Ban’s face fell, he sighed. “Do as you please.”
Ban made himself comfortable, propping one knee up. He gazed at the stone for a moment, bowing his head. He brushed the lilies with his fingers.
“Pretty. You venture out into the Celestine Forest by yourself?”
Anton shook his head. “It wasn’t me. Did you have business with me or not? I’m not in the mood for your antics.”
Ban threw back h
is head with a laugh, a move that made all of the maidens swoon. “Hah! When are you ever, I wonder…” He let out a breath, a warm fog escaping his lips. “I just wanted to check up on my friend. And pay my respects.” He patted the gravestone.
Anton resisted the urge to grab the stone from him and settled for swatting his hand away instead. “If that’s all, then you may leave.”
“Though, I recall you saying I could do as I please.”
Anton flexed his fingers. “Fine, just not near me. I don’t need you constantly checking up on me out of some bizarre obligation you’ve got in that thick head of yours. I’ve already got a brother who does that.”
Ban raised his eyebrows. “You think this is obligation?”
“Well, speaking of obligations, don’t you have some? For, you know, the impending war?”
Ban’s expression hardened, his forehead showing lines that he was far too young to have. “Is that confirmed?”
Anton recognized his tone and lowered his voice. “By my brother, just this morning.”
“Dragons, I hoped it wouldn’t have come to this.” Ban leaned back against the tree, laying a hand over his eyes. “My father is already running the men ragged. We don’t stand a chance against the Lanadese, not even at peak strength. What can I do?”
Anton shrugged. “Be your usual, cheerful self. People like to cling onto something normal.” Annoying as he was, Ban had a way with people that Anton would never achieve himself, just like his brother.
Ban nodded slowly. “Good idea. You were always observant in that way.” He stood, dusting himself off, a grin creeping back onto his face. “How about a sparring match, for old times’ sake?”
“Not on your life,” Anton muttered. He didn’t need to land on his ass in front of a few hundred men.
Ban leaned into his face. “Scared of losing again?” He held out a hand.
“No.” Anton shuffled to face away, crossing his arms. No way was he going anywhere with him.
