“Wherefore, he was never the same again. Perhaps it was anguish, or pain that burden him his entire life, for when it reached peak a few days later, he accidentally discovered Fire. This no good. The Fire Throne already had a male heir. Little Tairo, the Emperor’s son.
“The Emperor somehow found out about my lord. In that last hour, my lord looked to the east, remembered no Sage in Jaypes. For vengeance, he plot to survive. To live, you see, to prove to Tazuga he was no master of Ottega. My lord had much men who would die for him, so at his command we left. It was a narrow escape, great Lord of Fire—we raised anchor just as the Imperial armies galloped to the docks. When we arrived to Jaypes, we was safe and free at long last.”
“But . . . what about my mother?”
“Your masan,” Reizo muttered. “Well, His Holiness never forced your masan into anything. The poor woman was in such mourning when we arrived to the Capital, she would not leave her chambers for a week.”
“He forced her to marry him.”
“Suki, he did. But he left her be, and never consummated their marriage that night.” Jaime blinked. “It was she who came to him asking for a child.”
Grabbing the bars, Jaime hissed, “You’re a liar!”
“Please give me peace, Prince. When you—well, when that other boy, that other Prince—when he was born the next August, His Holiness loved him more than food and air. The prophecy ruined everything. After the Queen fled him, many hope we had for the King’s recovery from his past, gone. It was worse than Tazuga’s torture. Nothing could mend his heart.”
My mother didn’t take her life. Usheon murdered her.
And yet, as Jaime stared at the ground, Reizo continued:
Ten years after his coronation, the King stared through the windows of the throne room. Crisp leaves fell from dead garden trees. The sky was dark with clouds. Starlings no longer sang as they did for Lairdos Ascaerii.
No matter how many fires Usheon lit, he was always cold. His coal-black eyes followed the crumpled leaves floating in the dark gusts.
“We should have never left Kaippon. I have become the very man I tried to escape from.”
“Eh?” Reizo moved to the window. “Please, your heart is far purer than any Tazuga that has ever lived.”
After a long silence, Usheon lifted his head to the sky, where the god of his people dwelled inside stormclouds.
“Was it worth it, Reizo?”
“My King?”
And Usheon whispered a poem in Kaipponese tongue:
“Perfect windflowers
Though plucked in the prime of spring
Wither by autumn.”
Quietly, Reizo continued, “He never wanted to hurt you, Osei. He search for you because he angry. You were all he have left. For your sake, he have to believe he could undo the prophecy to honor your mother. We, his advisors, told him he had to let you go.”
Jaime backed away. “He—that doesn’t justify him. Or the Royal Decree. Hundreds of thousands of people died. Because of him.”
Reizo beat the air. “The rebel lords exasperated everything. They told lies of your whereabouts and attacked our men when we searched towns. Stinking maggots dividing our Kingdom! Eventually, we have no choice but to use force—”
“Don’t blame this war on the Jaypan people. They’re the ones who suffered most from your invasion!”
“Osei,” Reizo sighed. “Usheon is no Viro.”
“Usheon is no Lairdos,” he shot back.
He turned to leave. The guard unfastened the ring of keys at his waist for the exit door.
Reizo’s mouth dropped.
“Ah? Wait! I told you the truth! You cannot leave me here!”
Achuros raised a brow at Jaime, but he covered his face with his hood.
“Lead us out of here,” his mentor told the guard. They ascended the staircase and the door locked behind them.
As soon as they were back on the streets, Achuros took them under a bridge. Both of them dismounted. The old man opened his mouth to comfort Jaime, but Jaime interrupted.
“We only have a few hours. I need your help setting Usheon free.”
“What?”
“I have to do this,” he whispered. “My stepfather may have done a lot of terrible things, but killing him isn’t right.”
“Boy,” the priest roared, “are you mad?”
“Shh.” Jaime winced.
Achuros splashed across the river for the saddle, but Jaime grabbed the reins and wrested them out of his grip.
“Will you help me or not? You and Uncle Julias are the only people in the Capital I trust—”
“Now then! Leave Julias Markus out of this. Believe me, if he finds out, you can be sure he will have both of our heads.”
“Does that mean you’ll help?”
Achuros paced in circles, hand pressed to his forehead. “Give me a second to think.”
Somewhere nearby, a drift of priests sang low hymns. The storm drains gurgled. Seagulls cried over them.
Under his breath, Achuros muttered, “Madness, utter madness . . . ”
He peered over his shoulder. Jaime mustered the most heart-wrenching look he could.
Sighing, Achuros cried, “Alright, alright! Enough of that. I’m only doing this because you are Ascaerii . . . ”
In the darkness, the priest patted his robes, revealing another pouch under his sash. “The Captain of the Guard is under Tazuga’s pay. It will take more than a few sorry coins to bribe him, so you best fully compensate him in the morning.”
I knew it.
Jaime would certainly compensate him by arresting and replacing him.
They returned to the prisons. Achuros spoke privately again with Captain Brosidos. A bowl of incense burned between them. Jaime watched everything through the light of the door’s crack.
The Captain turned his back. Murmured something Jaime could not hear. An uneasy frown appeared on Achuros’s face.
Sweat trickled down Jaime’s temple.
Jaypes was no match against Kaippon, especially in the ruins of the civil war. If the Captain reported them to the Emperor, the latter could invoke the Sacred Codex and do anything he wanted to Jaime.
As Achuros was slowly showing himself to the door, the Captain said something. The priest stopped, turned around in surprise, and handed over the coins.
Stepping out of his office, Brosidos said to Jaime, “I pray you know what you are doing, Your Highness. Ascaerii I serve, not that imperious fool, Tazuga. But should your own people find out that you were behind this, you will reverse the reputation you have established for yourself.”
“I will take responsibility if that happens.”
Captain Brosidos escorted them back to the entrance. “Ottega is being held in the lowest layer of these dungeons. I will send a swift to the gate commander to give passage.”
Jaime stopped. “There’s one thing I need to do first.”
He ignored Achuros’s scowl and headed down the passageway he exited not an hour before. Without questions, the Captain sent several guards after him.
At the bottom of the staircase, Jaime asked for access to the general cell block. The head guard reluctantly unlocked the door and handed him the keys.
His gait swift, Jaime stopped outside Reizo’s cell.
The Strategos’s head rose. Alarm cracked across his face as Brosidos’s guards gathered at the entrance.
“Onega ida!” Reizo backed against the wall. “I pray you, allow me the honor to take my life with my own kendao—”
“Shut up,” Jaime snapped.
He jammed the keys into the lock. The Kaipponese’s black eyes burst open.
“When you see Usheon, tell him you are both . . . ” What was that political word the City-States used? “Ostracized.”
“Eh?”
“You are never to return to Jaypes.”
“Where will we go?”
“I don’t care. That’s your problem. You have two hours before the search parties of three Kingdoms come after you.”
Reizo Kita shuffled out of his cell. He glanced at Jaime like he was about to say something. But then he bowed low, his stocky shape vanishing into the night.
Jaime closed his eyes to hold in his emotion.
Firelight diffused through the bars, striping his face with light and darkness. Part of him wanted to see his stepfather one last time, and as he followed the Brosidos’s men out, he made up his mind to.
But at the top of the stairs, guilt sank in.
At the last second, he let Achuros tug him back to the palace. And once he was back in his room, alone, regret weighed his belly down, and the tears he had been hiding escaped his eyes.
Epilogue
In the royal peristyle behind the official wing, Jaime inhaled in his deepest breath yet.
Cypress, medlars, and pomegranate trees whispered at the humid breezes caressing their branches. Golden eagles perched on the great statue of Jaypes Ascaerii in the central fountain. Southern heat thickened the air. This small retreat, tucked away by the Skyrros Ocean, was bursting with life. The Kingdom’s long fall was coming to an end.
Jaime brushed his sandal against the paved flooring. It glittered from a mosaic of red, brown, and black volcanic glass. His life on Mount Alairus seemed so far away. Even now, that hurt.
He started to read Book Two of The Legend of the Four when his eyes caught movement in the distance.
The spitting dragon banners of New Jaypes were being taken down from the battlements. In their place, elhornes leapt into the skies, their great antlers like crowns on their heads.
And in the foreground, a cloaked shape stood between two palm trees, idly watching, too.
Jaime dropped the heavy tome. “Arrys!” he cried, dashing across the garden. His leg was getting stronger. This time, he didn’t stumble. “How did you get past the gate command—”
The Larfene grinned.
“Oh. Right.” Jaime reached for the small hoop in his ear. “Here, this is yours. It’s raising a lot of questions—the politicians think I’m starting some new modern age fashion.”
Arrys caught his wrist. “Keep it. It will stop my people from cutting you into cubes when you visit Larfour.”
The smile faded from their faces as Arrys shuffled into his cloak and pulled out Achuros’s ledger.
“I must present this to my High King. Your mentor was a friend of the Darklings—”
“Darklings! Achuros?”
His cry erupted across the peristyle like gulls taking flight. A royal guard shifted into view from the west entrance. Another from the north.
Your Highness? they called.
Arrys stayed hidden under the umbrage of the palms. Jaime swallowed and called back, “I’m fine!”
His breath heavy, Jaime shifted his attention back to his friend.
“What did it say?”
“This is a book of nightmares.”
“Arrys. What does it say?”
“Your priest and that Archpriestess helped the Darklings fabricate a prophecy so they could wipe out all Ottega—”
“Why?” he panted. “How does he know her?”
“They once served in the High Temple together, even loved each other. Both believed the modern Sages were corrupted. They wanted to rid Jaypes of your stepfather. Only problem is, he did not know Ascaerii blood still lived. He loved Lairdos a thousand dunes more than he ever loved the Archpriestess. And he loves you. That changed everything.”
Jaime turned his back. It felt like he was falling from the Colosseum’s upper rim all over again.
“Achuros is still alive.”
Arrys frowned. “You must execute him. Immediately.”
“I can’t,” Jaime whispered.
“Let me slay him then, before he draws hellfire upon you and those you love—”
As Arrys was drawing his sword, Jaime leapt forward and grappled his wrists.
“No!”
Arrys’s hot breath fell heavy on his nose. Green light flared across pupils. The Larfene’s avai energy swelled—a titan wavelength overpowering Jaime’s—comparable to the Western Sages.
Fear stabbed Jaime’s chest.
I still don’t know what he is. No, I do. He’s a Darkslayer, friend or not.
But Jaime held his stance. “Achuros is family to me,” he whispered. “I don’t have a lot left.”
“He is one of them—”
“Back in Arcurea, he took my side instead of the Archpriestess’s. And you said he loved my parents. I’m not an Ottega. He knows that now. I trust him with my life.”
The waves of Arrys’s feral energy dipped. His eyes became clear of bloodthirst again. Jaime let go of him.
After a pause, he released his hilt. “I cannot protect you from the Far East, Jaime.”
“I know. I can protect myself now, Arrys.” Deep breath. “If you want justice, let your High King judge him. It’s time to see if the Guardian of the Kingdoms is more than just legend.”
Arrys smiled grimly. “May it be as you say.”
“But do me a favor.” The shadows of the canopy shifted over Jaime’s face. “Find out what they want, and write to me. I’ll kill them before they ever get it.”
“Jaime, ever you need a friend you can trust, I will always be here.”
“I know,” he whispered.
His friend placed a hand on the purple sash over his shoulder. “You did well, Prince of Jaypes. I think we will see each other again soon.”
“Do Larfenes have any sayings for parting occasions?”
Arrys smiled and told him, and Jaime repeated: “May the earth pave smooth your road.”
“Let the winds lead you, and you shall find your feet, my friend.”
Though Jaime’s chest throbbed, he watched Arrys push off the tree trunk and disappear into the garden. Not long after, a giant hawk soared over Aeropolis Capital and vanished into the horizon.
An hour later, trumpets sounded across the city grounds.
Jaime sprinted over marble benches, passed lush arbors and rows of great statues until he was at the palace’s grand entrance.
Below the columned entrance, a Glaiddish retinue unloaded themselves inside the bailey. His eyes searched. As usual, Eridene and Toran were bickering. He grinned.
Jaime cupped his hands and called out to them.
His friends’ swiveled around, dropped everything, zealously sprinted up the steps to get to him. Jaime’s cheer vanished from his face.
He held up his hands. “Wait—easy—”
But Toran’s big body bowled him over. Jaime cried out from the surge of pain in his leg.
“Hey, Juno! Miss us?”
Eridene caught up in a light puff. She exchanged a peculiar look with Toran, and both of them burst out laughing.
“What?” Jaime demanded. “What’s so funny?”
Toran roared wildly. “Your eyebrows are gone! They must’ve been singed off!”
“What?”
He’d been so busy learning how to write letters and entertaining everyone who demanded his attention that he hadn’t taken the time to look at a mirror.
“Gods!” Jaime cried. “No one told me! Are they going to grow back?”
That only made his friends laugh harder. Eridene wiped her eyes. “Don’t worry, Jamian. They probably—”
“Won’t!” Toran said.
He slapped Jaime’s back hard, knocking the air out of him. “I can’t believe you’re still alive, man. It’s like you just won’t go away. You’re disappointing a lot of people, you know that?”
Grinning, Jaime tackled him to the ground. His best frie
nd exclaimed in surprise, crashing into Eridene. They rolled down the staircase, knocking over crates of gifts. Eridene’s angry shouting turned into laughter as she joined in, wrestling with them both.
For the rest of the afternoon, they played and laughed in the royal peristyle until a Glaiddish official called Eridene inside. Toran followed her, and with their horseplay broken, Jaime grudgingly followed Achuros into the Assembly Hall for a meeting of his own.
At eventide, he found Eridene alone on the south portico facing the open ocean. Awnings billowed between the columns to shelter out the heat.
The skies silhouetted Eridene’s profile into purple, limning her features with the fire of evening. His breath stole in his throat.
You’re a dream come true.
He sat next to her on the bench, handing her a bowl of grapes. Eridene shifted her eyes away from the sea. Cicadas tickled his stomach, worse than they had before his Duel with Usheon.
“So.” She tugged at the sash on his shoulder, brocaded with the Air Emblem. “What’s it like being King?”
“I’m not the King.”
“When is your coronation?”
He ducked her eyes and peered at the sky. “You know what I really like about being royalty?”
“What?”
“It’s kind of nice getting to shit in a box of gold.”
Eridene burst into laughter. Jaime gave a small smile. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be so vulgar in front of a lady.”
“No, no,” she hawked, “you haven’t met Glaiddish men.”
“So I guess you can return to your Kingdom now.”
She wiped her laughter-tears, her humor fading. “First thing in the morning. King Gildas doesn’t want to waste time or our men on Usheon’s escape.” She brushed his elbow with hers. “I am so sorry, Jamian. I don’t know how such a scandal could have happened.”
“Yes, it’s too bad.” He turned away.
“It will be strange to be home after everything that happened.”
“I bet your father would love to have you back.” He tried to sound happy for her.
“The city’s so beautiful. I’ll really miss Jaypes.” She nibbled a grape, drank in the ocean. “I never thought I’d say that.”
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