《The Shadow King》


 Prologue

    King Garazor Toradian urged his steed forward along the rutted mountain trail, feeling as though he were a dead man. Faster. They had to move faster. The horse knew the trail, but the darkness made it wary and slow. Above, the stars shone down peacefully, ignorant to all troubles on the earth below.


    He looked back at his companion. Valmar¡¯s face was difficult to see, but he sensed the other man¡¯s urgency.


    ¡°I know what you¡¯re going to say,¡± Valmar said. ¡°We should have brought the lantern.¡±


    ¡°Yes, we should have,¡± Garazor half-growled, angry at himself. He had wanted to come as quickly and quietly as possible, perhaps catch the nearby village unawares. But with every passing moment that was wasted with slow steeds, he knew his folly. The sentinels would know they were coming, whether it was in the heat of the day or the dark of the night. Secrecy was lost, and his decision to not bring the lantern was only slowing them down.


    ¡°We¡¯ll bring one next time,¡± Valmar promised. ¡°That is, if you intend to make a habit of coming up here in the middle of the night.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not certain there will be a next time,¡± Garazor murmured, partially to himself.


    His heart hammered in his chest. Every step brought him closer to his goal and his doom. What he was about to attempt was foolhardy in the extreme. One did not make a deal with the devil and walk away unscathed. He knew the stories, had seen the prison with his own eyes. He understood, to a very small extent, the gravity of what he was about to ask. Once the Arnyr knew his purpose, they would not wish for him to continue his visits, of that he was certain. He had one chance, just this one, and he was determined to try, even if it meant his expulsion from their community and a curse from the devil himself.


    But he could see no other alternative.


    There was dark movement on the path ahead. A figure emerged from the trees and uncovered a lantern, bathing the trail in light. Garazor¡¯s horse started and stamped in surprise.


    ¡°Who goes there?¡±


    Garazor blinked against the sudden light. ¡°King Garazor of Aleria, and my companion, Valmar Roth.¡±


    ¡°You are known to us,¡± said the sentinel, whom Garazor recognized. The man was young and tall and wore his leather armor with pride. He frowned.


    ¡°You are not expected,¡± he said, scrutinizing them. ¡°And it is very late. I¡¯m afraid you must now return¡ª¡°


    ¡°I must speak with your Elders at once,¡± Garazor interrupted. ¡°It is a matter of great urgency.¡±


    The sentinel continued to frown. ¡°They will be sleeping,¡± he said. ¡°You must come another time.¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± Garazor said, desperation filling his chest. ¡°Please, it must be tonight.¡± He reached into his purse to withdraw a couple of coins and then remembered that the Arnyr did not take kindly to bribes.


    The sentinel shook his head, standing firmly in the trail, barring the way.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go, Garazor,¡± Valmar said. ¡°There¡¯s no honor among these villains. There is nothing they can offer us that will help you.¡±


    The sentinel glared at Valmar.


    Garazor ground his teeth, then tried a different tactic. ¡°Do you have a wife?¡± he asked the sentinel, who appeared taken aback by his question.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said.


    ¡°And children? Do you have any?¡±


    ¡°One.¡±


    ¡°Then you will understand my predicament,¡± Garazor said, doing his best to appeal to the man¡¯s sympathy. ¡°My wife and newborn son are dying, and nothing my physicians have done has changed anything.¡±


    He took a shaky breath, seeing Ithena in his mind¡¯s eye, pale, fragile, and the tiny baby, hardly moving. Their lives depended on this, on his ability to speak with the Elders. He looked firmly at the sentinel. ¡°I have come seeking the Arnyr¡¯s aid.¡±


    ¡°Our people are not physicians, King Garazor,¡± the sentinel said. ¡°We cannot perform miracles.¡±


    No, Garazor thought. But he whom you guard certainly can.


    ¡°I would speak with your Elders,¡± he repeated.


    He remained on his horse, hoping that to the sentinel, he appeared regal and firm. His heart beat rapidly in his chest.


    Finally, the sentinel gave an impatient sigh. ¡°Very well,¡± he said. ¡°I will take you to them, but their wrath is upon your head.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Garazor said, trying not to let his relief show in his voice. The first obstacle: passed.


    ¡°But your companion and your horses must remain here,¡± the sentinel said, gesturing at Valmar. ¡°He is to go no further.¡±


    Garazor nodded and Valmar sighed. ¡°I suppose I should have expected that,¡± he said. ¡°Stable boy, that¡¯s all I¡¯m good for.¡±


    Garazor slid off his horse, knowing that Valmar¡¯s complaints hid the fact that he was disappointed not to be allowed into the village. In the half dozen times they had visited Herstett, his companion had had to remain outside the walls. The Arnyr defended their privacy with a fierceness that seemed strange for such an isolated community, but Garazor understood why. He had seen them, their true selves, and knew why they hid. It was a wonder to him that they had trusted him with their secret, and for their trust he respected their privacy. It galled Valmar, though, not to know why his friend must continue along without him.


    Garazor handed the reins to Valmar and clasped his companion on the shoulder. They were nearly the same height, though Valmar was a couple of inches the taller, a fact with which he had teased Garazor about since their youth.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Garazor said. ¡°I know you have your own problems, Val. It means a great deal to me that you came on this foolish errand.¡±


    ¡°You are my lord and my friend,¡± Valmar replied. ¡°Foolish errands or no, I would follow you to the end of the earth. Even if it means waiting alone in the dark on this God-forsaken mountaintop. With the horses.¡±


    Garazor nodded, then paused. There was fear in him, a fear that he had not voiced since they had left the palace early that morning.


    ¡°If¡­¡±


    He hesitated, not knowing whether he could find the right words. ¡°If I do not return, Val, watch over my family. Especially ¡®Thena.¡±


    Valmar stared. ¡°Of course, but¡­why would you not return?¡±


    Garazor forced a smile and turned to follow the sentinel. ¡°No reason. It was a foolish fear.¡±


    <hr>


    The sentinel led Garazor into an audience chamber, one of the many caverns beneath the ground in which the Arnyr lived, and left him there to summon the Elders. Garazor hardly minded being left on his own for a few minutes. His mind was too caught up in worry for his wife and son. He might already have been gone too long. Perhaps they had passed on to the city of light and peace, never to be troubled by mortal cares again.


    He forced the thought from his mind. No. They were still alive. He was going to save them.


    The Elders, when they arrived, were courteous as always, but Garazor could sense their displeasure. He bowed to each of the four and thanked them profusely for meeting with him at such a late time. Their ire somewhat sated, the four Elders sat in their designated seats on the floor, and Garazor joined them.


    ¡°So, tell us, King Garazor,¡± said Aras Irli, the oldest and most wrinkled of the Elders. She drew her woven shawl more tightly around herself. ¡°Why have you requested this audience so urgently at such an unusual hour?¡±


    Garazor swallowed and did his best to calm his racing heart. In a trembling voice, he explained his wife and son¡¯s condition, how the birth of this second child had taken a much more dramatic toll of her body than had been expected. The boy had come early because of it, and was struggling to live. Nothing his physicians could do helped either of them. So, in his desperation, he had come to the Arnyr for their aid.


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    ¡°Why do you think we would help you?¡± Aras Bree asked, his young face in a frown. ¡°We are not healers. These conditions you describe are regrettable, yes, but natural. Trying to stop them would be like trying to stop the sun from setting.¡±


    ¡°The power that you seek exists only in legends,¡± said Aras Pennerit haughtily. ¡°Our people have lost much of what they once possessed. It is only rarely that one is born with these gifts, and we have not had one in generations.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± said Garazor, his heart sinking. That had been his alternative plan, to see whether it was possible to avoid what must be done. He knew that the Elders¡¯ wrath would descend on him as soon as he mentioned what he had been planning to do all along.


    He took a deep breath.


    ¡°Tell me if I am mistaken, but there is someone who still possesses that power. Someone who would be able to aid me if I asked.¡±


    The cavern was as silent as the stone around them. Aras Irli cleared her throat.


    ¡°That is ill-conceived, Garazor,¡± she said. ¡°And impossible.¡±


    ¡°No one has ever crossed that bridge,¡± said Aras Bree. ¡°Our founder forbade it.¡±


    ¡°He forbade you,¡± Garazor corrected. ¡°There is nothing in your statutes that would forbid me or one of my kind to enter. You cannot enter because it is the same power that keeps them contained and you from entering. But if you sent me, I could enter, I¡¯m sure of it.¡±


    ¡°This is madness!¡± said Aras Pennerit. ¡°Even if we were to allow it, you would be completely vulnerable. You would have no defense. They would tear you apart in moments.¡±


    ¡°That is speculation,¡± Aras Irli murmured. She regarded Garazor with her small, bright eyes. ¡°While your purpose is foolish, Garazor, I wonder. I wonder that it is possible for you to cross the bridge. In all our years, we have never once attempted that.¡±


    ¡°So you will let me pass?¡± Garazor asked, his heart leaping.


    ¡°When the mountains fall into the oceans,¡± Aras Pennerit hissed.


    Aras Thranoc, who was oldest of the three male Elders, finally raised his head. He had been intently examining the stone at his feet and had not spoken a word. He met Garazor¡¯s eyes with his own.


    ¡°You have no idea what it is you ask,¡± he said in a quiet voice, ¡°what danger you could unleash on yourself and on our people. Solanus is contained, yes, but he is far from powerless. Whatever deal you believe you are making with him is a lie. He will twist the truth to his own ends. He will wrap it in shadows and secrecy until you do not know what it is you are giving away for what you want.¡± He gripped his knees. ¡°You do not know what you ask,¡± he repeated, lowering his eyes once again.


    Garazor felt despair rise in him, and with it, anger. ¡°You will not take me to him?¡± he asked, his voice trembling, his face reddening.


    The Elders collectively shook their heads.


    ¡°I am sorry, King Garazor,¡± said Aras Irli, bringing herself to her feet. ¡°Losing a loved one causes terrible pain. It is a deep sorrow that you must now bear, and I am sorry for it.¡±


    Garazor climbed to his feet. ¡°I, too, am sorry,¡± he said, and lunged forward. He grabbed Aras Irli and spun her so that she faced outwards, holding one of her arms behind her back. With a deft movement, he swung a dagger from his belt and placed it across her neck. The other Elders shouted in outrage, rising to face him. Garazor kept the old woman¡¯s arms tightly pinioned, but did it as gently as he could. He wanted to scare the Elders, not hurt them.


    ¡°There is no need for violence,¡± said Aras Irli, speaking calmly. ¡°King Garazor, threatening my life will not save your wife¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°Five times,¡± Garazor said, breathing heavily. ¡°She¡¯s nearly died five times. And you want to know why? Because of me. Because I love my wife. And for whatever God-damned reason, her body cannot bear the result. She gets weaker with every child.


    ¡°We¡¯ve lost three children, Irli. Three. And I buried them alone because she could barely move, could not even hold them.¡± He blinked back tears as he remembered the tiny, twisted bodies in their silky blankets, the even smaller tombstones.


    ¡°That is regrettable,¡± said Aras Thranoc, moving slowly forward. ¡°But as Irli has said, it cannot be helped, Garazor.¡±


    ¡°But it can!¡± Garazor said, stepping backwards and taking Aras Irli with him. He kept the blade firmly against her throat, but watched that his hand did not shake. He did not want to accidentally cut her with it.


    ¡°King Garazor, speaking with Solanus will only bring you further pain,¡± said Aras Irli. ¡°Whatever you hope to gain, is it worth this?¡±


    ¡°Garazor, let her go,¡± Aras Bree snarled.


    ¡°Stay back!¡± Aras Irli said as Garazor took another step backwards. ¡°I can feel his conviction. He is in earnest. He will hurt me if he feels it will further his ends.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to hurt you,¡± Garazor said truthfully. ¡°Just give me what I want. Please.¡±


    ¡°You think threatening the life of a tired old woman is any kind of threat?¡± said Aras Irli. ¡°I¡¯m old, King Garazor. Amongst our kind, I¡¯m positively ancient. I¡¯ve lived a good, strong life. But if my death can secure the severity of our commitment in your mind, so be it.¡±


    Garazor hesitated. ¡°I have no intention of killing you,¡± he said. ¡°But if I must keep you a captive to speak with the king, then I will.¡±


    ¡°You would never leave this room alive,¡± Aras Pennerit growled.


    ¡°Think about this very carefully,¡± said Aras Thranoc. ¡°You would have an entire city to fight your way through. We do not see combat often, but our soldiers are well-trained. And you are one man.¡±


    ¡°A man who has your most revered Elder in his power,¡± Garazor said.


    ¡°Perhaps an alternative could be reached,¡± said Aras Irli. ¡°One of our own, a trained Guardian, could negotiate with the Dryr. Arrange for a meeting on the bridge, not within the prison itself. You do not enter the prison, he does not leave it. You can ask for assistance without breaking the statutes.¡±


    Garazor paused. That did sound like an acceptable alternative.


    ¡°Very well,¡± he said, though he did not release Aras Irli. ¡°I will release you and in exchange, you will set up this meeting. After this, I will leave and never return, if that is what you wish of me.¡±


    Moving very carefully, Aras Irli nodded. ¡°Your request to see the king, more than anything, secures that. You will no longer be welcome amongst our people.¡±


    ¡°Very well.¡±


    ¡°Now let her go, you pale-skinned maggot,¡± Aras Bree said, his face taught with anger.


    ¡°But,¡± said Garazor, placing emphasis on the word, ¡°but, if this meeting does not work as planned, then you will allow me to cross the bridge. I will have the meeting with the king on my own terms.¡±


    ¡°And why would we agree to that?¡± Aras Pennerit scoffed. ¡°This is the very thing we do not want you to do.¡±


    ¡°Because,¡± said Garazor, playing his final and most powerful play, ¡°if you do not, I will tell my people your secret. I will announce it from every rooftop and wall of every village in my kingdom. They will know who and what you are, and they will come for you.¡±


    The room was very silent.


    ¡°We should never have allowed him here!¡± Aras Bree cried, throwing his hands up. ¡°I warned you he would betray us. I warned you!¡±


    ¡°Be quiet, Bree,¡± Aras Thranoc snapped. His somber eyes found Garazor¡¯s and held them. ¡°I expected more from you, King Garazor,¡± he said. ¡°All these months, the many meetings we have had. Did they mean nothing to you? Despite all of your promises, you meant to throw away our goals as soon as you satisfied your own desires?¡±


    Garazor frowned. ¡°Of course not,¡± he said. ¡°I still believe that someday Arnyr and humans can live together in harmony.¡±


    ¡°And yet your actions state otherwise,¡± said the older man softly.


    For a moment, Garazor could not speak. The words stuck in his throat. ¡°I¡ª¡° he stammered. ¡°I believe in the equality we both seek,¡± he said. ¡°But I cannot stand idly by as my wife and son die when I know your king could save them.¡±


    ¡°He is not our king!¡± hissed Aras Bree, his face twisted in anger.


    Aras Thranoc held up a hand and Aras Bree lapsed into silence.


    ¡°Very well, King Garazor,¡± Aras Thranoc said. ¡°Release Irli and we will go directly to the bridge.¡±


    Garazor carefully removed his arm from around Irli¡¯s neck and returned the dagger to his belt. As the other Elders muttered and Aras Pennerit left to fetch a guard, Aras Irli turned to face Garazor.


    ¡°I thought better of you, Garazor,¡± she said, peering up at him. ¡°To threaten an old woman such as me betrays your desperation and the depths to which you have sunk. But tell me. If this plan of yours does not work, what will you do when your wife and son are taken from you? Whether now, or in the future, they will die. That is one inevitability that comes to all.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll find a way,¡± Garazor said. ¡°They can¡¯t die. Not now. It¡¯s not their time. I have confidence that the king will see me, that he¡¯ll give me what I seek.¡±


    ¡°Then, on your own head, be it,¡± Aras Irli whispered.


    <hr>


    The meeting held, the deal made, Garazor left the village for the final time and returned to Valmar. It was mid-morning, and his companion aroused himself quickly from his makeshift bed.


    ¡°Are we off, then?¡± he asked. ¡°Did you find what you were looking for?¡±


    Garazor¡¯s fists were clenched, not out of anxiety, but out of fear. He feared that if he spoke, he would tell his friend everything, about the Arnyr, about the Dryr, about the Shadow King and his city of cold stone. He feared that he would say what he had needed to do to ensure the meeting happened.


    And, most especially, he feared the deal he had made.


    He forced a smile. ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°I have a remedy for my wife and son. They will be fully healed. That is the promise made me.¡±


    Valmar stared. ¡°And all that from these reclusive miners?¡± he asked, amazed. ¡°What mighty power do they possess that all the physicians in Aleria do not?¡± His keen eyes searched Garazor¡¯s face. ¡°What aren¡¯t you telling me?¡±


    Garazor¡¯s breathing was heavy. ¡°Nothing, Val. They are extraordinary healers. That is all.¡±


    His companion frowned, sensing the lie. But rather than argue, he shook his head and saddled his horse.


    Garazor was silent as he, too, saddled his horse. He was silent as they headed back down the mountain, silent as they rode for the capital, silent as they were greeted with anxiety at the palace. He said no word as he secretly administered the remedy, then waited until the physicians came and told him of the miraculous healing of the queen and prince. He held his newborn son as his wife smiled, and admitted a truth to himself that he had been running from.


    Aras Irli was right.


    On your own head, be it.


    He began to weep.


    Oh God, he thought. What have I done?

 Entracte - The Dream

    In his dreams, Rhoden danced with the ghosts.


    Glittering skirts swirled and heeled boots marched across an ornate marble floor. Above, blue and black lights shone down through the darkness. The music wove through it all, mysterious and heart-rending.


    Behind the gem-studded masks they wore, their skin was black. Black as a midnight with no stars. Black as the deepest cavern beneath the earth. The mark of a race long destroyed. The mark of the Shadows.


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    They moved to the music, never ceasing, dancing steps never before seen to melodies never before heard. Rhoden was unafraid. He, too, knew the steps. The music thrummed in him like a second heartbeat, strange and yet familiar.


    Over all, the king watched, silent and regal. His lips curved in a secret smile.

 Chapter 1 - His Every Hope Pt. 1

    Rhoden had spent his life preparing for the worst. Some might have considered this extreme. Rhoden felt it was merely practical. The more uncertainty in a situation, the more things were likely to go wrong. The ancient scholar Escapelius had been the first to put this correlation into words, and when Rhoden had read his writings, the truth had resonated with him.


    For, as fate deemed it, bad situations tended to escalate around him, no matter what he did to avoid them. It was better, then, to assume that a situation would deteriorate around him, rather than being surprised by it. It was better to be prepared.


    True, his normal daily routine was quite mundane and predictable. Hardly worth mentioning. The problems that could occur within it were small, insignificant. But whenever he left the comfort of the familiar, he carefully considered and planned to allow for every possibility, every bad situation. He had been caught unawares before. He disliked that feeling more than anything in the world.


    So, naturally, on the day that he was to risk his every hope, his plan was meticulous.


    The sky above was cloudy as Rhoden and his uncle, Lord Horst Bellenan, walked down the short drive towards the expansive manor belonging to Lord Erastus Hestran. Rhoden wore his most comfortable, but respectable, boots, and a cloak, in case it rained. His clothing was ostentatious and edged in embroidery¡ªenough to remind Lord Hestran that his guest was a royal prince¡ªbut not so flamboyant as some of the new fashion that had recently become popular. The collar was stiff and scratched at his neck, but he did his best to ignore this. Within his chest, his heart thumped rapidly. His hands, usually so calm, trembled.


    Rhoden¡¯s uncle, shorter and stockier than him, squinted up at the sky. ¡°Rain¡¯s coming,¡± he muttered.


    Rhoden glanced up as well, trying to calm his mind. ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°But we should be done before it arrives. If not, I am prepared.¡± He fingered the oilcloth in his right pocket.


    Horst eyed him. His dark beard covered the lower half of his face and made his expression difficult to read.


    ¡°Nephew,¡± he said. ¡°Again, I must question the wisdom of this action.¡±


    ¡°And again, Uncle,¡± Rhoden said firmly, ¡°I will not back away. I have a chance to read the Chronicles, and I must take it.¡±


    ¡°Suppose he does not honor your request,¡± Horst growled. ¡°Suppose he turns you away without a word.¡±


    ¡°I will try again. If Hestran won¡¯t see me, I¡¯m certain Cael can convince him.¡±


    ¡°Yet, you did not invite him.¡± His uncle looked around at the winter-bound gardens spread out before the manor, the bare branches and musty leaves. ¡°He would surely have come, you know.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Rhoden said softly, almost to himself. ¡°But this is something I must do for myself.¡±


    Sensing his nephew¡¯s resolve, Horst was silent.


    Together, they climbed the steps to the door and Rhoden¡¯s uncle gave a firm knock. A moment later, the it swung open, revealing a servant in scarlet livery. Rhoden met the man¡¯s eyes and was unsurprised to see that they bulged slightly. He did his best to ignore the all-too familiar stare.


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    ¡°Prince Rhoden and Lord Bellenan to see Lord Hestran,¡± said Horst.


    The man tore his eyes away and licked his lips.


    ¡°They¡¯re expecting you, your Highness, my Lord,¡± the servant said hoarsely, standing aside to let Rhoden and Horst enter. ¡°This way.¡±


    Rhoden felt relief wash over him. He had passed the first obstacle. Despite the confidence he had shown his uncle, he had been prepared to have been turned away at the door. Now that they were inside, however, Rhoden pondered on the servant¡¯s words: They¡¯re expecting you.


    They?


    Lord Hestran will have invited his wife, Rhoden thought. Of course.


    Irritated thoughts flew through his mind as the servant led them down the hall. This was to have been a private meeting between himself and Hestran. Perhaps he had misunderstood the man¡¯s meaning, though as he thought it, he knew he was wrong. Lord Hestran was known for being manipulative and stubborn, which was why Cael and his uncle had warned him away from this course of action. It was likely that Hestran had changed the terms for his own advantage, and Rhoden¡¯s options were becoming tenuous.


    Should have expected that, he thought bitterly. When one dances with the devil¡­


    He racked his brain. That Hestran would have a third party privy to their conversation had been one of the less-likely scenarios he had considered. The topic they were to discuss was delicate, even secret. He had supposed that Hestran would have wanted to keep it as quiet as possible. Knowing that he had invited someone else to the gathering, most likely his wife, presented an additional difficulty to the situation.


    Lady Hestran was an unknown factor. In his limited time within the royal court, Rhoden had only met her once. He had heard from reports that she was fiercely loyal to her husband. A potentially dangerous combination. He clung to that knowledge. It would be difficult to convince Hestran to let him borrow and read the Chronicles if the man¡¯s mind was made up and his wife was there to support him. Rhoden would need a way to convince them both, or else set them at odds. He set his jaw. This was turning out to be more difficult than he had imagined.


    Armed with what little information he had about his hosts, Rhoden followed the servant until he stopped before a set of double doors.


    ¡°Lord Bellenan,¡± the man said. ¡°If it pleases, you will wait here.¡±


    Horst turned to Rhoden.


    ¡°I would join you,¡± he growled softly, his eyes bright. They dared Rhoden to disagree.


    ¡°You can¡¯t,¡± Rhoden said, feeling his heartbeat quicken as he looked at the doors. ¡°That was the agreement we made. Lord Hestran and myself. No others.¡± Though Hestran may not have upheld his bargain, he thought.


    ¡°And if he does not honor it?¡± Horst asked, reading Rhoden¡¯s mind.


    Rhoden clenched his fists. ¡°I must do this, Uncle. You cannot always be at my shoulder.¡±


    For a moment, it seemed as though Horst would argue further, but then he sighed through his beard and stepped away. ¡°I¡¯ll be waiting when you return.¡±


    The servant cast one more swift look at Rhoden before he opened the doors and walked through a short vestibule. At the other end, he swung open another pair of double doors, then stood aside to let Rhoden pass.


    Rhoden had a fleeting glimpse of a wall of mirrors, a disorienting sense of a room filled with people. A moment later, he realized that the mirrors had only barely exaggerated the number of people within the small space. At least a dozen men sat in padded chairs behind several long tables. Every eye was fixed on him.


    All the preparation, every detail, every fact Rhoden had remembered, suddenly vanished from his mind. He scanned the faces, realizing he recognized very few. The rest were strangers.


    The servant addressed the room.


    ¡°Prince Rhoden, my lords,¡± he said, and retreated.


    The doors thudded behind Rhoden like the closing of a tomb.

 Chapter 1 - His Every Hope Pt. 2

    Lord Erastus Hestran sat in the center of the room before the wall of mirrors, the men spread out on either side of him like magistrates dealing a sentence. Rhoden stood alone as if he were the accused, facing the men and mirrors. His reflection rippled back at him, blurred and distorted. At the far end of the room, light streamed through a tall window.


    ¡°Prince Rhoden,¡± said Lord Hestran. ¡°At last we meet.¡±


    The smug smile on his face was echoed in a few of the others¡¯. There was now no question that the inclusion of such an audience had been deliberate.


    Rhoden swallowed. Gain control of the situation! he thought furiously. If he thinks he has the upper hand, he will take advantage of that. Best to show confidence, catch him off-guard somehow.


    ¡°My Lord,¡± he said, bowing slightly. ¡°Forgive me; it appears I have come at a bad time. Clearly, you already have company. Shall we reschedule?¡±


    Hestran¡¯s smile widened. ¡°Reschedule? There is no need. We are ready to discuss your request.¡±


    Rhoden met a few of the eyes around the room. He recognized Lords Astrall and Larcasane, both from the Council of Lords, sitting close by. Strangely, a group of white-robed Ennist priests took up nearly half of the seats. Rhoden knew Hestran was not religious, and so they must be there because of the subject of this exchange. His heartbeat quickened. This complicated matters greatly.


    He looked back at Lord Hestran, who had rested one of his pudgy hands on the table top.


    ¡°I was under the impression,¡± Rhoden said, fighting to keep his voice calm, ¡°that this was to be a private conversation.¡±


    ¡°They are here at my invitation,¡± said Hestran. ¡°I needed some¡­assistance with your request, and they have provided it.¡± He cocked his balding head. ¡°Their presence surely does not disturb you, Your Highness?¡±


    Rhoden heard the mockery in his tone and anger rose in his throat like bile. Hestran had the upper hand, and he knew it. If he had hoped to catch Rhoden unawares, he had succeeded. All the preparations Rhoden had made were practically useless. He had prepared for a private conversation, had crafted his arguments based solely on that fact. To now address a roomful of people who had been invited specially by his host was more than daunting¡ªit was terrifying. Rhoden berated himself mentally. He should have considered this option more seriously.


    With great difficulty, he swallowed the fear and anger away. To allow himself to show Hestran anything other than confidence was a victory for his opponent. This had now become a game, and Rhoden was beginning to feel he might lose it.


    But he would still try. His desire to read Dorican¡¯s Chronicles was greater than his pride. He could take a few pointed jabs from Hestran.


    He straightened his shoulders. ¡°They do not disturb me,¡± he lied. ¡°You have the Chronicles, then? As you said?¡±


    Hestran motioned to a servant who stood in a corner. The man stepped forward, carrying a large cloth-wrapped parcel in his hands. He handed it to Hestran, who unwrapped it carefully. As he dropped the final fold, Rhoden felt his heart hammer against his ribs.


    In the center of the fabric were two very old books, bound in cracked leather. Each was thick and yellow-paged, though in surprisingly good condition. Rhoden could just make out the gold leafing on the spines that spelled the author¡¯s name: DORICAN. For being nearly six centuries old, Hestran¡¯s copy of the Chronicles was remarkably well-preserved. It was clear that the previous owners had taken good care of it, despite its being banned for centuries.


    Rhoden itched to hold the books, to open the covers and smell the parchment. He wanted to feel the pages and read the words, but more than anything, he wanted to know what those words would tell him. It was said that the Chronicles possessed the only complete history from before the Great Schism, before the censorship of the Ennist Church. It was a miracle that copies of this great work had even survived the purging, let alone the ensuing centuries. Lord Hestran¡¯s was the only one in Aleria of which the scholars at Tellegar College were aware.


    It was also dangerous. Though no longer banned by law, there were consequences for owning or even reading the books. Rhoden had counted on Hestran¡¯s lack of affiliation with the Ennist Church to make the exchange possible. But the inclusion of Ennist priests within this conversation was problematic, to say the least. Not once in his planning had he anticipated this. Was there a way he could still get what he wanted?


    Rhoden tore his eyes away from the books. ¡°I am honored, My Lord, that you would allow me access to such a priceless artifact,¡± he said. ¡°I thank you.¡±


    ¡°Your thanks are misplaced,¡± said Lord Hestran, running a ring-studded finger along the cover of the topmost volume. ¡°I have not agreed to anything, Prince Rhoden, other than to prove that I owned the Chronicles. Well, here they are. And here they will remain.¡± He picked up a corner of the cloth and began wrapping the books in it.


    ¡°But¡ª¡± Rhoden couldn¡¯t stop the word before it left his mouth. Hestran looked up at him, a knowing smile on his face.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°I¡ªI had hoped,¡± Rhoden stammered, trying to find the right words, to conceal his shock and disappointment. That couldn¡¯t be the end of the conversation! He cleared his throat, raised his head.¡°I had hoped that I would be able to¡ªto read them.¡±


    Hestran shared a look with one of the Ennist priests who sat at the table with him. ¡°And why, in the name of all that¡¯s holy, would I allow that?¡± he asked.


    Rhoden felt his face flush red-hot. As he tried to find a response, the Ennist priest moved and laid a hand on Lord Hestran¡¯s arm. He looked up at Rhoden with a genuine smile. He was younger than most priests Rhoden was accustomed to seeing, perhaps a decade older than himself.


    ¡°Prince Rhoden, please do not take offense,¡± the priest said. He frowned at Lord Hestran. ¡°I am certain none was meant.¡±


    Hestran¡¯s face grew slightly pink, but he sat back, motioning for the priest to continue.


    The priest turned back to Rhoden. Light from the window shone on his wavy, caramel hair. ¡°We cannot blame Lord Hestran¡¯s attachment to his personal belongings,¡± he said, his voice calm and reassuring. ¡°After all, I understand that these books have been in his family for countless generations.¡± His fingers brushed the top of the half-tied parcel, then his gaze caught Rhoden¡¯s and held it.


    ¡°Though, despite his outburst, there may be some truth to it,¡± he mused. ¡°You see, there is some concern among us as to the nature of your request, Prince Rhoden. You wanted proof of the Chronicles¡¯ existence, but now you have made it clear that you also wish to read them. You are aware, I presume, that doing so would expel you from the Ennist Church?¡±


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Rhoden¡¯s mouth was dry. He had known this possibility, of course, but he had anticipated negotiating with an already known heathen, not an Ennist priest. His plan of gaining the Chronicles and reading them in secret, without the knowledge of the church, was now obsolete.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said, his voice hoarse.


    ¡°You know what the Chronicles contain, or else you would not ask,¡± the priest said. ¡°You know the danger that knowledge presents.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°And yet, you are a royal prince,¡± the priest continued. ¡°You would risk expulsion from the church, merely because you wish to read these forbidden books?¡±


    Rhoden swallowed hard. ¡°Yes,¡± he whispered.


    A few mutters passed around the room, and several men shook their heads. The priest held up his hand, looking curiously at Rhoden.


    ¡°Then tell us,¡± he said. ¡°Why would you risk so much, for knowledge that is so dangerous?¡±


    Thoughts raced around Rhoden¡¯s head. He had prepared several angles to convince Lord Hestran with: that the scholars at Tellegar were looking to compile a history of the last millennia and needed the information; that Rhoden¡¯s father, King Garazor, wished to add the volumes to his personal library. But each excuse now seemed trite, and were not entirely true. Meeting the young priest¡¯s gaze, Rhoden knew that honesty was his only choice, that he needed to tell him the truth if he was to have a chance at getting what he wanted. Not the whole truth, of course, but as much of it as he could.


    He took a deep breath. ¡°In my years at Tellegar, the scholars have encouraged me to find a particular branch of study to pursue. It is how they came to be masters, and how they know to teach. As I am likely to remain at the college, they expect a place will be available among their ranks when the time comes. After many years of deliberation, I chose history.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± said the priest. ¡°Yes. I understand why you would be interested in the Chronicles, then. But there are many histories that have been compiled. Many far more informative and less controversial. Why this one?¡± He patted the top of the volumes.


    Rhoden clenched his teeth and wiped his sweaty palms against his trousers. There was no way to say it, except bluntly.


    ¡°Because I am studying the history of the Shadows.¡±


    Silence filled the room. Rhoden held the gaze of the young Ennist priest, but felt every other eye in the room pierce him like arrows.


    ¡°I see,¡± the priest murmured, his eyes narrowing. ¡°Then, I suppose Lord Hestran¡¯s concerns were, indeed, merited.¡± He turned to speak quietly with another priest who sat close to him. Hestran¡¯s beady eyes beamed with triumph.


    Rhoden¡¯s heartbeat thrummed inside his throat, threatening to choke him. Why couldn¡¯t he have lied? Why couldn¡¯t he have held that part of the truth back, said that he had wanted the Chronicles for a different purpose?


    The Shadows were a dark stain in the past, a piece of Alerian history that the Ennist Church had tried to erase, along with the Shadows themselves. This terrifying race of people with skin as black as coal had once lived in Aleria, long, long ago. They had been destroyed once their evil works had been revealed, destroyed by a man now steeped in legend: Renthalas, the Sun King. He and the Shadows only existed in myths and children¡¯s tales now, the truth distorted and lost by time. Rhoden had studied those stories, had tried to extract truth from fiction. He had hoped that the Chronicles would provide the answers he sought, but now¡­


    Rhoden raised his gaze until it was fixed on his reflection behind the seated men. He had failed. The public admission that he wanted to study the Shadows was a seal on his fate. They would never allow it. When his father found out, not even Cael¡¯s silver tongue would be able to salvage this situation. He would be forced to change his area of study, and everything would be lost.


    His reflection rippled in the tall mirror before him: a tall, young man with dark hair, otherwise nondescript, but with one damning feature. His skin was black. Black as a storm cloud at night. The mark of the Shadows. A curse he could never escape.


    The Ennist priest finally cleared his throat, and the room, which had been buzzing with conversation, quietened. Rhoden dropped his gaze to the floor, unable to look anyone in the eyes, unable to see himself in the mirror, unable to look at the books, which he had so longed for and had now lost.


    ¡°Prince Rhoden,¡± he said, his voice loud and firm. ¡°We cannot authorize your request. The information you seek within the Chronicles is extremely dangerous. We cannot allow that information to be known. The Chronicles will remain in Lord Hestran¡¯s custody, as they have hitherto been, and he will keep their secrets.¡±


    ¡°In your hands it would only lead to evil,¡± Lord Hestran said softly, but everyone in the room heard.


    Rhoden clenched his jaw so tightly he thought it would break. He nodded once, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor.


    ¡°Lord Hestran¡ª¡± the young priest began to protest, but Hestran cut across him.


    ¡°This interview is over,¡± he said. ¡°You will leave.¡±


    A stronger man may have objected. Certainly, had Cael been present, he would have demanded more respect for a royal prince. He would have known the risks in taking on Hestran and his machinations. But Rhoden was not his brother, and to his shame he found that he had no words to say.


    He turned, and with trembling steps, walked from the mirrored room.


    <hr>


    Rhoden and his uncle rode back to the palace in silence. Rhoden was grateful, though the experience of that morning tumbled through his head, repeating itself over and over again.


    Why in the name of all that¡¯s holy would I allow that?


    In your hands, it would only lead to evil.


    He turned his face away from the rain-streaked window. The streets of Torran were quiet, all the inhabitants sheltered away from the storm. But that storm raged inside of him. No one knew. No one understood the depth of the shame he now felt. Not even Horst.


    It wasn¡¯t until their carriage rolled to a stop in the palace courtyard that his uncle spoke.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go directly to your father,¡± he said gruffly. ¡°The king must know what has happened.¡±


    Rhoden did not move from his seat. ¡°To what purpose, Uncle? He¡¯s bound to learn of it eventually. If not from you, then the Council.¡±


    Horst frowned at him. ¡°You are a royal prince,¡± he said. ¡°And, more than that, you are his son. He will want to know what has happened today. If you will not tell him, I will.¡±


    Rhoden fingered the cuff of his sleeve. The embroidery felt rough beneath his fingers. ¡°I would rather you not speak with him,¡± he said quietly. ¡°I would rather this is forgotten.¡±


    ¡°Oh? And how do you think the other men in attendance will treat this incident? The news that Prince Rhoden has made it his life¡¯s mission to study the Shadows will not disappear overnight.¡± Horst glared at Rhoden, his beard bristling. ¡°They will not forget it, and neither should you.¡±


    ¡°Why do you care?¡± Rhoden snapped, anger and shame rising to his face. ¡°I¡¯ve lost everything. I¡ªI couldn¡¯t keep my mouth shut and I lost my chance. I¡¯ll never know the truth about¡ªabout them.¡±


    ¡°Never is a foolish word,¡± his uncle retorted. ¡°It fixes the mind on false absolutes. People change. Things are forgotten, new doors are opened. You¡¯ll get another chance.¡± He narrowed his eyes. ¡°And I care, because however much you try to deny it, Nephew, you are a royal prince of the house Toradian. There will be consequences to those who choose to treat you with such disdain.¡±


    ¡°I doubt my father will see it so,¡± Rhoden murmured, and Horst sighed.


    ¡°You¡¯ve never given him much credit, Nephew. If you were to talk with him¡ª¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Rhoden said firmly. ¡°You may speak with him, if you wish. I will not.¡±


    Horst¡¯s beard ruffled. ¡°One day,¡± he said, moving to open the door of the carriage. A servant stepped forward with an umbrella in hand. Horst looked back at Rhoden. ¡°One day, you will let go of this foolish anger and see him for who he truly is.¡±


    ¡°Unless my skin changes, that day will never come,¡± Rhoden said, quiet enough that his uncle, who was now waiting for him outside the carriage in the rain, did not hear him.

 Chapter 2 - The Time for Childrens Tales Pt. 1

    The next morning, Rhoden awoke early and made his way through the quiet palace, out into the barracks of the King¡¯s Guard. Although the sky was still dark, the barracks were full of the bustle of a new day. A few of the guards nodded at Rhoden as he passed. Others stared, which he did his best to ignore. Though he was, as his uncle continually told him, a royal prince, he was rarely at the palace. He and his uncle visited only once a year, and then usually a fortnight or less. He was not unaccustomed to the stares, but he wished they would stop. He was not some museum exhibit to be studied, and besides, he was late for his sparring lesson.


    In the center of the guard barracks sat the training hall, long and squat. A group of soldiers moved aside and respectfully opened the door as Rhoden approached. His face grew warm at the treatment. The scholars never gave him such deference at the college. He wished he were back there, but he and Horst would not be leaving until after the wedding, which was still weeks away.


    Steeling himself, he walked into the training hall.


    The interior of the building was open, a large room supported by solid wooden pillars. A space in the middle had been kept clear and filled with sand. Around the sides of the room were racks filled with various armor and weapons.


    The center was filled with various pairs of sparring soldiers. The clang of their weapons rang around the hall. Dust hung, suspended and swirling, in midair. Rhoden kept to the edges of the hall as he approached a particular pair. He tried to push away his annoyance and anxiety. His brother had asked for him specifically this morning, though Rhoden had wanted to spend the early morning hours in the library before it became occupied. True, he would still be at the palace for a while yet, but each day that brought them closer to the royal wedding also brought a host of guests into the halls of the palace.


    As much as Rhoden dreaded the stares those eyes would bring, he dreaded this practice even more. He wished he were back in his bed. There was less of a chance anyone would be hit in the head with a blunt object. He looked around the sparring ring, taking in the various pairs. Sword fighting. There was a reason soldiers made poor scholars. Broken limbs and cracked skulls were only the beginning.


    Besides, he had his brother to worry about. Cael had been so serious at dinner the night before, Rhoden didn¡¯t have to wonder what the true reason behind his request to join in sparring practice could be. Cael knew what had happened at Hestran¡¯s manor yesterday, and he wanted to talk with him about it. But Rhoden had awoken that morning with a clear thought in his head: Not that. Anything but that.


    He stopped near where his brother fought, but did not announce himself, not wanting to interrupt. In the shadows at the edge of the hall, he was practically invisible.


    The two men circled around one another, intent in their task. Cael held a broad sword in his hand, his eyes fixed unblinkingly upon his opponent. His golden hair glinted in the light from the several torches around the room and his face was hard set.


    His opponent was a tall, red-haired and bearded man, whom Rhoden recognized as the new swords master, Derrick Soraldson. Although he did not know much about the man, he remembered having heard that the man was Mesian. With the approach of the wedding and the sealing of the treaty between Aleria and Mesia, it was now not uncommon for citizens to move between countries.


    Even knowing that the aggression between the two countries had ceased, Rhoden kept a close eye on the swords master. Everyone knew that Mesians were trouble. Though his brother was about to marry one, Rhoden was still skeptical. It seemed that Mesia was receiving more out of the treaty, and Rhoden suspected a ploy. But, Cael trusted this man, and Rhoden wanted to observe why.


    Clearly, Derrick was a skilled fighter. He moved carefully, deliberately, placing each step firmly into the sandy floor. He held his sword loosely at his side, as though it were an extension of his arm. The pair exchanged blows and Rhoden watched carefully.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Clangs of steel filled the air, then silence. The two men retreated, panting.


    Cael grinned. ¡°Mountains above, Derrick, I thought I had you that time!¡±


    Derrick chuckled. ¡°Not quite,¡± he said. He paused, then said, ¡°If you didn¡¯t insist upon waking so early, perhaps you wouldn¡¯t be so sluggish.¡±


    ¡°Oh, sluggish, am I?¡± Cael laughed and massaged his shoulder. ¡°I could have you dismissed for that kind of talk, you know.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯ve said,¡± Derrick pointed out. ¡°Every day.¡±


    ¡°And yet, you remain.¡±


    ¡°Odd, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Cael laughed, and again they fought. Rhoden remained in the shadows, hidden, as he watched the exchange. It was not difficult to see that the pair was well-matched. Cael had always thrown himself into swordplay, with as much zeal as Rhoden had in reading. He fought with energy and passion, his swings heavy and solid. Derrick, on the other hand, was quick to parry and return thrusts, twisting on his toes as though he were a dancer. Although Rhoden knew practically nothing about the art, he could tell that this man was remarkable. His sword was a blur in the dim light.


    After another moment, they paused. Cael massaged his arm, then spoke loudly over the clang of the other weapons.


    ¡°You know, Brother, it¡¯s considered rude manners to lurk in shadows.¡±


    Rhoden smirked and stepped forward into the light.


    ¡°How did you know I was there?¡± he asked.


    Cael rammed his sword into the ground, where it stuck, quivering.


    ¡°It was simple,¡± he said. ¡°There truly is no shadow that broods like you do.¡±


    As Rhoden let out a laugh, Cael embraced him, a smile as wide as the room splitting his face. The gloom Rhoden carried with him lifted in the warmth. He and Cael were nearly the same height, Rhoden taller by just a finger¡¯s width, but Cael was by far the stronger. Rhoden felt as though his ribs might crack under his brother¡¯s arms. He would never tell him, though.


    Cael finally pulled away, holding him at arm¡¯s length. ¡°You¡¯re thinner,¡± he commented.


    Rhoden shrugged. ¡°The meals at Tellegar certainly aren¡¯t the most lavish. The scholars do what they can.¡±


    ¡°And you only eat when reminded,¡± Cael laughed. ¡°Little wonder you¡¯ve slimmed out.¡± Then, he straightened and put on a pompous tone. ¡°What you need is less time among dusty books¡ª¡±


    ¡°Not likely,¡± Rhoden said with a droll smile.


    ¡°¡ªmore time outdoors¡ª¡±


    ¡°Which would take me away from matters of great importance.¡±


    ¡°¡ªand social interaction,¡± Cael finished, his eyes twinkling.


    Rhoden pulled a face. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    Cael laughed. ¡°A necessary evil. One we must all bear.¡± Then, he turned. ¡°You know Derrick, don¡¯t you? Derrick, my brother Rhoden.¡±


    The red-haired man, who had been waiting quietly in the background, stepped forward.


    ¡°It is good to see you again, Prince Rhoden,¡± he said, giving a small bow. ¡°Your brother speaks of you often.¡±


    ¡°I hope not,¡± Rhoden said, somewhat stiffly.


    Cael thumped Rhoden on the shoulder. ¡°Oh, calm yourself, Brother. I never shared anything you would protest to. Just friendly banter between friends.¡±


    Derrick¡¯s smile seemed forced. Even Cael¡¯s grin faltered as a grim expression flitted across his face. Despite his brother¡¯s words, Rhoden kept a cautious distance from the swords master. He was Mesian. What was his motive in becoming close to the crown prince, and in a position to clearly cause potential danger? Cael obviously liked the man, and he would not have been instated if there was any doubt as to his loyalty, but Rhoden was not content merely to take anyone¡¯s word. He needed to see for himself.


    ¡°Well, shall we?¡± Cael said, clapping his hands and breaking the tension. ¡°The day won¡¯t wait for us.¡±

 Chapter 2 - The Time for Childrens Tales Pt. 2

    Together, the three of them took positions in the middle of the room. Rhoden accepted a dull sword, and Cael led the three of them through stances, the most basic of sword training. Although his two companions were clearly more skilled than this, they were not above practicing with someone much less adept than they. Rhoden was simultaneously grateful and embarrassed. He had very little experience with a sword, never having seen a need. A prince who spent the majority of his days in peace did not need to fight. But Cael had always found chances to bring Rhoden to the training hall, to teach him what he had never learned. He recognized, now that he was older, there was perhaps some merit to it.


    As Rhoden followed the movements, he found his mind wandering. The darkness on Cael¡¯s face had not gone unnoticed. At some point, he would ask the question Rhoden was dreading: can we talk?


    He forced himself to think of other things, but the intrusive voice of Erastus Hestran followed his every movement: why would I allow that? It would be evil in your hands. Evil. Evil. Evil.


    The words became a cadence to which he moved his sword, echoing around and through him. The more he heard them, the more deeply they sunk into his soul. Gloom settled over him once more, and he growled silently at the air. He could not escape the truth of what he was. He would never be anything than something to be feared.


    After what seemed like an age, and when Rhoden felt his arms were ready to collapse, Cael stopped them and began a few basic fighting maneuvers. Rhoden pulled himself from the deepness of his gloom and forced himself to concentrate as both Cael and Derrick came at him, swords swinging. For a time, he was grateful not to think of men behind tables, white robes, and a wall of mirrors.


    They continued as the sky brightened above them. The door to the training hall opened many times as soldiers came and went. One by one, the other fighting pairs in the ring began to disappear.


    As they paused for a drink of water, Rhoden became aware of a growing crowd. Members of the King¡¯s Guard, both in uniform and without had gathered around the edges of the room, watching curiously. Rhoden felt their eyes on him like an invisible presence. Darkness settled over him again as a fog.


    He knew they watched purely because of him. He was so rarely at the palace that it seemed the people forgot about his existence. Whenever he came, it was as though he were some foreign freak, something to be gawked at, whispered about. Wherever he went, crowds gathered¡ªon the sides of roads, before the palace gates, within the training hall of the palace. They thought, perhaps, that they were surreptitious in their examination, dropping their eyes or breaking apart once Rhoden turned their way, but he saw them. He always saw them.


    Another unwelcome thought followed. What if the news of his shameful rejection had spread, and these guards knew what it was he had been planning to do? The very topic of Shadows was shunned and hated. Suddenly, the stares he felt were more piercing than ever.


    Palms sweating, Rhoden returned to the center of the sandy area. No other pairs of fighting guards remained. Through windows high in the roof, bright daylight streamed. They had been practicing for hours, now, and Rhoden was beginning to feel it. He longed to be done, but Cael did not seem to be finished, and so they would remain.


    Cael and Derrick were speaking with one another in low voices and broke apart as Rhoden approached.


    ¡°I can see you¡¯re tired, Rhoden, but Derrick has something he¡¯d like to teach us before we finish,¡± Cael said. ¡°I think it¡¯ll be entertaining enough for our audience, if you¡¯re agreeable?¡±


    Swallowing his anxiety, Rhoden nodded.


    ¡°It¡¯s a type of gambit,¡± Derrick explained, his eyes flicking between their faces. ¡°I¡¯ll admit it is unusual and the opportunity to use it is slim, but I¡¯ve found it useful. It requires at least three parties, which is why I haven¡¯t taught you before, your Highness,¡± he said, nodding to Cael.


    ¡°A three-way fight? Sounds intriguing,¡± Cael said.


    Derrick¡¯s mouth drew into a thin smile. ¡°It¡¯s not quite what it seems. I¡¯ll explain it both to you privately.


    ¡°We¡¯ll begin with you,¡± he said, positioning Cael at the center of the arena. ¡°Prince Rhoden, if you still stand over there¡­¡±


    He motioned for Rhoden to move to the edge of the ring of sand, then spoke with Cael in a quiet voice. Rhoden watched them, his heartbeat quickening. If he wanted to observe Derrick¡¯s character, he had a feeling this would be the moment to do so.


    Once Derrick was finished speaking to Cael, he came to where Rhoden was standing, wary and unsure.


    ¡°Prince Rhoden,¡± he said, lowering his voice so that only they could hear. ¡°Your brother is your opponent. His objective is to try and distract you from the fight. That is also your objective, but there is an added element of which he is not aware.¡±


    Rhoden met the man¡¯s eyes, trying to read his intention.


    ¡°I have told him that I am his ally, but this is a lie. I am your ally, and my purpose is to help you disarm him.¡±


    Rhoden wet his lips. ¡°You lied to Cael. How do I know you aren¡¯t lying to me?¡±


    ¡°You do not,¡± said Derrick with a grim smile. ¡°That is the true purpose of this exercise. It is about distraction, yes, but also about trust. You must trust me, Rhoden. Find a way to distract Cael so that he forgets I¡¯m here.¡±


    ¡°Distract him how?¡± Rhoden asked. His hand was sweaty on the hilt of his sword.


    ¡°It works best to do something¡­unexpected. Play to your strengths, if you can.¡± Derrick¡¯s dark eyes were unreadable. ¡°Are you ready?¡±


    Rhoden swallowed. Play to my strengths? he thought. Books and scholarship would not help him in this situation, of that he was certain. To do something unexpected, then, was his best option.


    His jaw clenched, he nodded.


    Then, raising his sword, he charged at Cael. His brother¡¯s eyes widened as Rhoden attacked, but he raised his own sword to block. Rhoden lunged again, letting his body follow the movements he had spent hours practicing. Cael blocked him easily, then gave a few attacks of his own. Rhoden felt his bravery slip away.


    The hilt of his sword rammed against Cael¡¯s and they found themselves face to face.


    ¡°That was impressive,¡± Cael said, grinning. ¡°In all honesty, I didn¡¯t know you had it in you to attack first.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a lot you don¡¯t know about me,¡± Rhoden whispered.


    They pushed off one another, their swords scraping. The quiet hall rang with the sound.


    ¡°Speaking of which,¡± Cael said, the smile gone from his face, ¡°when were you going to tell me?¡±


    They began to walk slowly in a circle around one another. Derrick had disappeared into the crowd at the edges of the room.


    ¡°Tell you what?¡± Rhoden asked.


    ¡°About yesterday,¡± said Cael.


    Rhoden froze. Now? He wanted to talk about this now? What had happened at Lord Hestran¡¯s manor couldn¡¯t be common knowledge, not yet. Cael wouldn¡¯t betray that confidence, not in front of an audience. He wouldn¡¯t.


    His thoughts were interrupted as Cael came charging at him. He raised his sword just in time to block, and the two of them danced apart. Rhoden took a step forward.


    ¡°I would rather not talk about it,¡± he said through tight lips. ¡°Not here.¡±


    ¡°So you would have preferred I hear about it first from father, not you?¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t the time, Cael,¡± Rhoden muttered. ¡°Let¡¯s discuss this later.¡±


    ¡°I think this is the perfect time,¡± Cael said, a grim look on his face.


    Blood rushed to Rhoden¡¯s face. Was Cael angry at him?


    Careful, he thought. He¡¯s trying to distract you, and it¡¯s working. Turn this around. Distract him instead.


    He rushed at Cael again, trying a maneuver they had practiced just an hour before. With a clang, he found his sword knocked out of his hands. It landed in the sand with a thump.


    Cael eyed it. ¡°You know,¡± he said. ¡°The point of a sword fight is to keep one¡¯s sword in hand.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I don¡¯t need it,¡± said Rhoden, backing away. His thoughts swirled. Play to your strengths.


    ¡°I won¡¯t fight you unarmed,¡± Cael said, sticking his own sword, point down, in the sand. ¡°This fight should be fair.¡±


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    ¡°This fight was never fair,¡± said Rhoden, once again circling around the sandy pit. ¡°But you¡¯re right, Cael. I should have told you.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you would be so stupid,¡± Cael said, a hint of a smile returning to his face. It was strained, though. ¡°You have no idea what you¡¯ve started.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll tell me all about it,¡± Rhoden said. ¡°But it¡¯s my turn to tell you something.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± A true smile split Cael¡¯s face. ¡°You think talking will help you win the fight?¡±


    ¡°Something like that,¡± Rhoden muttered. He scanned the darkened crowd for red hair, but could see none. If Derrick was indeed his ally, he was making a poor one.


    In all possibility, he was on his own. Hints of a story swirled through his mind. It was all he could think of as a distraction. He took a deep breath and began.


    ¡°There was once a spy in the household of the king. It could have been the Sun King, or maybe one of his descendants. But this spy brought the kingdom to ruin entirely on his own.¡±


    ¡°Is this really the time for children¡¯s tales?¡± Cael asked, his eyes twinkling. He knew Rhoden¡¯s fascination with the old stories. It was a teasing question, not a barbed one.


    Rhoden ignored him.


    ¡°This spy had a special talent, one of the Old Magics,¡± he continued. ¡°He could change his appearance at will. One moment, he could look like a sturdy blacksmith; the next, an old codger; the next, a young servant woman. He could go anywhere, be anyone, and he prided himself on a simple fact: he was never caught.¡±


    As Rhoden and Cael circled each other, their swords glinting dully in the sand between them, Rhoden could sense the attention of everyone in the room on him. There was hardly any sound but that of shuffling footsteps and his own voice.


    ¡°One day, the spy made a mistake. He let pride enter into his heart.


    ¡°¡®I will make an idiot of the king,¡¯ he said. ¡®I will show everyone what a fool he is.¡¯


    ¡°The spy entered the palace as a servant, then took the king¡¯s appearance while the king was sleeping. That night, he strode through the city, wearing nothing but what Ennis above gave him. He disparaged the king¡¯s name, visiting ale- and whorehouses alike. Rumors flew like wildfire.¡±


    ¡°Did anyone find him out?¡± Cael asked.


    ¡°The king, the true king, that is, was of a perfectly sound mind,¡± Rhoden continued, nodding. ¡°He alerted his guards, once he heard the rumors, and they arrested the spy as he lay drunk on the ground. For days, the king questioned him, the man who held his face, but could find no answers. Eventually, in a stroke of good luck, the spy managed to escape using the appearance of one of his guards.


    ¡°After that, there was nothing in his mind but revenge. Slowly, things began to go wrong for the king. His friends began leaving him. Servants were found dead. Even the leader of a neighboring kingdom began to threaten him with war.¡±


    Rhoden felt the story grow in him like a climbing vine. His voice became more confident.


    ¡°Eventually, the king sent out a proclamation, begging for relief. This was the opportunity the spy had been waiting for. He took the appearance of an old man from the country¡ªsomeone no one in the palace would know¡ªdressed himself in gaudy robes, and presented himself at the palace as a seer. He became the king¡¯s most trusted advisor, but his his true purpose he kept hidden behind clever words.


    ¡°When the king believed that the threat was past, an army from the neighboring kingdom suddenly attacked, destroying everything in its path. The spy had been visiting them as well, telling them where the weakest defenses were.


    ¡°All hope was lost, and the king and his trusted advisor, the spy, fled the palace. When they were alone, the spy dropped his illusion and stabbed his knife into the king.


    ¡°¡®Why?¡¯ the king asked, recognizing him as the man who had stolen his appearance. ¡®I gave you everything.¡¯


    ¡°¡®You took my victory from me,¡¯ said the spy. ¡®I am only¡ª¡¯¡±


    Behind Cael, Rhoden saw movement. Suddenly, Derrick rushed from the shadows, hands empty. He caught Cael around the middle, causing him to cry out in shock, and tackled him to the ground. Sand sprayed into the air. Several of the watching soldiers called out and moved forward instinctively.


    Rhoden rushed to the two men as they extricated themselves from one another. Cael¡¯s shock had passed, for he was laughing.


    ¡°Distraction indeed!¡± he said. ¡°I may have a bruise from that, Derrick.¡±


    ¡°I apologize,¡± said Derrick unabashedly. ¡°You can¡¯t deny the results.¡±


    ¡°I thought you were on my side, and I wondered what was taking so long,¡± Cael chuckled. ¡°But I suppose that was the point, wasn¡¯t it?¡±


    Derrick offered his hand, and Cael took it.


    ¡°I lied,¡± Derrick said.


    Rhoden looked at the man, but could read nothing in his expression. That unnerved him more than anything. If Derrick would lie as part of a training exercise, what else would he lie about?


    ¡°And now I understand why you chose the story you did,¡± Cael said, looking at Rhoden. ¡°It was intriguing.¡±


    ¡°It was the first thing that entered my head,¡± said Rhoden, shrugging. ¡°I was trying to take you off balance. I thought a story would accomplish that.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not wrong,¡± Cael laughed, running a hand through his hair. ¡°I tried to do that as well, but, well, I wasn¡¯t as successful, was I?¡±


    Rhoden shook his head. ¡°It shocked me. I didn¡¯t want..them to know about it.¡± He looked around at the crowd, which was stirring and murmuring in low voices.


    Cael threw an arm over Rhoden¡¯s shoulders and together they left the sandy area. In a quiet corner of the room, they stopped, and Cael stepped away.


    ¡°I apologize, Rhoden. That was foolish of me, wasn¡¯t it?¡± Cael scrutinized Rhoden¡¯s face. ¡°I¡¯m like the king in your story.¡±


    ¡°He wasn¡¯t the fool,¡± Rhoden said. ¡°He was misled. You¡¯re not a fool, Cael.¡±


    ¡°I was angry you didn¡¯t tell me yesterday,¡± Cael said. ¡°About Hestran, the Chronicles, all of it. Father told me last night before dinner, and I could hardly believe what he was saying. But I shouldn¡¯t have taken it out that way. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°So am I,¡± Rhoden sighed. ¡°I should have told you.¡±


    There was a brief moment of silence between them. Pairs of soldiers were once again sparring in the middle of the training hall. The sound of ringing metal rose through the air.


    ¡°You really were going to read the Chronicles, weren¡¯t you?¡± Cael asked. ¡°You would leave the Church, just for a book?¡±


    ¡°Only if I had been caught,¡± Rhoden muttered.


    Cael laughed, but the sound was choked. ¡°Oh, your stupidity never ceases to amaze me. What about them is so important to you? I mean, I understand you¡¯re studying the Shadows, but why these particular books?¡±


    Rhoden glanced around the room, to make certain no one else was near. Derrick had wandered away, watching the fighting pairs critically and giving advice.


    Still, Rhoden lowered his voice. ¡°You know that during the Great Schism nearly all knowledge of the Shadows was reduced to myths and children¡¯s stories.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Cael responded. ¡°They didn¡¯t want any knowledge of their evil doings to be spread.¡±


    ¡°Dorican, the author of the Chronicles, was a priest who disagreed with the church,¡± Rhoden said, speaking faster. ¡°He preserved historical events in their truest form. There is history there, true history, that doesn¡¯t exist anywhere else. Information about the Shadows, what really happened, not just what the church says happened.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Cael¡¯s face was troubled. His light eyes pierced Rhoden. ¡°And you want to know this, because¡­¡±


    ¡°Because I need to understand why this happened,¡± Rhoden said, looking down at his hands. In the dim light, his black hands seemed even blacker.


    Cael sighed. ¡°Not this again.¡±


    ¡°Yes, this again,¡± Rhoden argued. ¡°Why do you think I¡¯ll devote the rest of my life to studying the Shadows?¡±


    ¡°You said it was to compile a true history,¡± Cael said.


    ¡°It is,¡± Rhoden said. ¡°But, Cael, I have to know what happened to me.¡±


    ¡°Father has already given his answer. None of the physicians could ever explain it.¡±


    ¡°Which is why I have to look elsewhere for answers,¡± Rhoden said. ¡°I held out hope that the Chronicles would give me those answers, but¡­it¡¯s too late for that.¡±


    Cael¡¯s face grew red. ¡°Hestran should have known better than to treat you the way he did,¡± he growled. In the dark corner, his resemblance to their uncle Horst was uncanny. ¡°There will be consequences for his actions.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Rhoden said quietly. ¡°I destroyed my chance at reading them. I¡¯ll never know what they say. And, besides that, I¡¯ve dug my reputation a deeper hole than it was before. All of those priests and Hestran¡¯s goons know I¡¯m trying to find out the truth about the Shadows. I have a feeling I¡¯ll never know it.¡±


    ¡°You are an idiot,¡± Cael said ¡°The more you talk, the more I¡¯m convinced you¡¯re the fool from the story.¡±


    ¡°But am I the spy or the king?¡± Rhoden muttered.


    ¡°You never finished it,¡± Cael said, realization dawning on his face. ¡°How did the story end?¡±


    ¡°The spy kills the king, joins the army of the invading kingdom, and is eventually killed for impersonating their king.¡±


    ¡°So the moral is, don¡¯t pretend to be someone you¡¯re not?¡± Cael asked.


    ¡°That both the spy and the king were fools,¡± Rhoden said. ¡°One who did not understand the limits of his talent, and the other who was too trusting.¡±


    Cael clapped a hand on Rhoden¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°People don¡¯t hate you as much as you think,¡± he said. ¡°And you¡¯re not a complete fool. Father has some ideas on how to smooth this over. Don¡¯t worry. We¡¯ll get through this.¡±


    ¡°Father¡¯s ideas are what worry me,¡± Rhoden said.


    Cael chuckled.


    ¡°It might take some time, seeing as the Mesian party arrives tomorrow,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s possible nothing will happen until after the wedding.¡±


    That gave Rhoden pause. He had forgotten. Though the wedding was still a couple of weeks away, Cael¡¯s betrothed, Lady Miriandri, and her family were coming far in advance to help with preparations.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure it will happen when it¡¯s meant to,¡± Rhoden said. Then, he asked, ¡°Are you nervous?¡±


    ¡°About marriage?¡± Cael laughed. ¡°Not at all! We¡¯ve prepared for this nearly our entire lives. And Mira is a wonderful person. She¡¯ll make an excellent companion. You¡¯ll like her, I¡¯m certain of that.¡±


    ¡°I look forward to meeting her,¡± Rhoden said quietly.


    Cael gave Rhoden a searching look.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do about Hestran and the Chronicles,¡± he said. ¡°But, Rhoden, those books were banned and destroyed for a reason. What if you do eventually read them and what you find is not what you wanted to know?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s better than trying to piece together truth from thousands of stories,¡± Rhoden said. ¡°And perhaps you¡¯re right. Perhaps it¡¯s better that I don¡¯t read them. I just¡­I want to understand. I need to know the truth.¡±


    Cael¡¯s face softened. ¡°I know,¡± he said. ¡°Even if it means being banished from the church.¡±


    Rhoden shrugged, and they began walking toward the exit. ¡°I was never very religious, anyway.¡±


    Cael laughed as the two of them stepped into the bright sunlight of a new day.

 Chapter 3 - Dear Heart

    Mira had a problem. Frustration and anger welled inside of her as she received the news, unable to say a word. She waited for the servant to close the door, then turned to face her parents. Her own shock was mirrored in their faces.


    ¡°How could they?¡± her mother whispered. ¡°How could they?¡±


    Mira walked to the chairs before the fire and sank into one, her body hot with indignation. In one hand, she clutched the piece of paper the servant had given her.


    Her father, Lord Otus Escallon, who was sitting next to her, took the paper and scanned it quickly.


    ¡°It¡¯s true,¡± he said, his thin face appearing more gaunt in the firelight. ¡°It¡¯s worse than we feared, Arianne.¡±


    Mira¡¯s mother snatched the paper from him, reading it herself. She scoffed in disbelief several times before throwing it aside.


    ¡°The priests have gone too far this time,¡± she said, her eyes bright. ¡°Oh, Mira¡­¡±


    Mira retrieved the paper and read it through again, mutely. On it was a message, written by the Thalist priests and signed by her great-uncle, King Sebastt of Mesia, that outlined changes to her wedding ceremony. She was informed exactly how she was to perform, what things to say, and what to wear. It appeared that the priests had somehow managed to ¡®leave¡¯ Mira¡¯s wedding dress in Mesia, and that a much more modest and ¡®appropriate¡¯ gown would be produced for the ceremony once they arrived in Aleria.


    ¡°You would think, after spending a fortune on that dress, the king would understand why we should bring it,¡± Mira¡¯s mother shot at her father.


    ¡°My dear, you know how easily he is swayed by the priests,¡± her father replied. ¡°If they told him it should be left behind, he would make it happen. But they clearly have taken this opportunity to exercise their new power.¡±


    ¡°The treaty isn¡¯t signed yet, and already they think they own everything they touch,¡± Lady Escallon muttered. Her round face twisted in despair. ¡°You would have looked so beautiful, Mira. God knows what they will find instead.¡±


    ¡°In truth, Mother, the dress isn¡¯t what bothers me,¡± Mira said through her teeth. She lowered the page, pointing to a spot near the bottom. There was a list written there of persons who should not be included in the ceremony. It contained only one name, written in bold ink: Prince Rhoden Toradian.


    Mira took a deep breath, trying to calm her anger.


    ¡°The priests can¡¯t honestly think they can ban a member of the royal family from attending the wedding, can they?¡± She looked incredulously at her parents. Both of them were grim-faced.


    ¡°They have been trying to convince the king to exclude Prince Rhoden from the ceremony for several months now,¡± Lord Escallon said quietly. ¡°I believe they¡¯ve finally succeeded, and on the cusp of our arrival. King Garazor will not be pleased.¡±


    ¡°Will this affect the treaty, do you think?¡± Mira asked, her heart quickening. The treaty between Mesia and Aleria was the reason for her marriage to Prince Cael. An agreement that mirrored the joining of families with the joining of kingdoms. It had been years in the making, almost her entire life.


    ¡°There is no stopping the treaty, unless both the Mesian and Alerian councils decide to,¡± said her father. ¡°But, yet. I believe this demand will cause complications. Prince Rhoden is a prince, and to ban him is a snub in the face of the Alerian royal court.¡±


    Mira¡¯s mother sniffed. ¡°His own father rejected him and he¡¯s hardly a part of the court when he¡¯s so frequently gone. Would it truly be so bad if he were not to attend?¡±


    ¡°Mother!¡± Mira snapped, anger flooding through her. ¡°He¡¯s not some monster from a fairy tale. He¡¯s a man, like anyone else. I know how Cael feels about his brother. He would want him in attendance. As do I.¡± She glared at her mother. Lady Escallon held her gaze for a moment, then lowered her eyes.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to suggest Prince Rhoden is anything other than unlucky,¡± Lord Escallon said. ¡°Remember, my dear, it is what he does, not how he looks, that should be judged.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll fight against this,¡± Mira said, holding the paper so tightly that it crumpled in her hands. ¡°I¡¯ll make certain the priests know I protest. I¡¯ll even talk with the king, if I have to. I refuse to be a part of something so blatantly discriminating.¡±


    Her mother sighed. ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right,¡± she said. ¡°I just worry about you, and being so¡­close to him. You¡¯ve never even met him. You don¡¯t know what he¡¯s like.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Mira agreed. ¡°But starting tomorrow, I will. And I¡¯ll make my own judgements.¡±


    Her father¡¯s thin mouth twisted in a smile. ¡°We never expected anything less from you, dear heart.¡±


    <hr>


    The next morning, their party began early. Mira did her best to repress the nervousness she felt. Though she had met Cael many times over the last few years and was long past her shyness, still, in these new circumstances anxiety rose in her. Her father had been unable to speak with the king last night or this morning, as everything had been a crazed flurry of final preparation. They hoped that, somehow, they would be able to speak with the king before they arrived and endeavor to change his mind. It would be difficult, though. The king was constantly surrounded by a group of Thalist priests, rallying around him like chattering chickens.


    Despite Mira¡¯s anxiety, the day dawned bright and clear, a beautiful reminder that winter was over and spring was spreading its abundance over the earth. Hope bloomed within her once more. Despite the demands of the Thalist priests, she was confident they would find a way to avoid conflict.


    The Mesian party, consisting of Mira¡¯s family, a large group of lords and priests, and King Sebastt himself had been traveling for the past week. They had overnighted in the manor of Lord Valmar Roth, one of the members of the Alerian Council of Lords, and a former companion of King Garazor. As Lord Roth¡¯s land was situated within the fertile Plattanar Valley, less than a day¡¯s journey to Aleria¡¯s capital city, it had been an ideal location to rest.


    The road from Mesia to Aleria was long and nearly devoid of inns, though, thanks to the treaty, the increase in trade between the kingdoms would surely change that. The Mesian party had had to camp a couple nights on the open ground during their journey. Mira¡¯s mother had made certain to tell the Thalist priests that she felt it was entirely inappropriate for the future queen of Aleria¡ªnot to mention the king of Mesia¡ªto sleep on dirt. Mira hadn¡¯t minded. Over the years of traveling back and forth from Mesia to Aleria, she had grown accustomed to the temporary and not terribly uncomfortable travel beds.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Lord Roth himself wished them well as Mira and her family piled into carriages and prepared to take to the road. In a thin voice, he apologized that he would not be joining them, as had originally been planned. His health had taken a bad turn recently and he was not in a fit state to attend the royal wedding, much as he would have liked to. Indeed, he looked pale and hollow, as though a large part of him had been carved away.


    But still he managed to smile and introduce his daughter, Issamin, who would be accompanying them to the palace as Mira¡¯s new companion. A couple of years Mira¡¯s elder, Issa was pale and dark-haired, and had spent many years preparing for such a role. She bid her father farewell, promising to return soon, and the carriages departed.


    The carriages were soon underway, a long procession of stamping horses and creaking wheels. Through the long hours, as her parents dozed and Issamin Roth read quietly, Mira entertained herself by looking out of the window.


    Aleria was a beautiful kingdom, a series of connected valleys leading ever deeper into Ecthalon Mountains. Instead of the barren passes and rocky hills that had dominated the last week¡¯s travel, the sides of the mountains within Aleria¡¯s peaceful valleys were carpeted in green. Freshly turned fields lined the sides of the road, giving way to forests of endless trees. This early in the spring season it was still possible to see between the trunks as they flashed by. Mira knew that in summer these forests would team with life. Above all the treetops rose the everlasting white peaks of the Ecthalon Mountains.


    The royal procession passed through the Plattanar Valley after a couple of hours and the road turned, curving up a shallow pass that then emptied into the largest valley of all, where the majority of Alerian¡¯s lived. They rode through several towns and villages before they reached Torran, capital of Aleria. People stopped in the streets, peasants in worn clothing with faces in awe as they watched the dozen carriages pass. Mira found her heart racing with the swaying of the carriage as it drew her ever nearer to her future.


    She spent some of the time speaking with Issamin, and found that her companion-to-be was prim, but kind, and preferred the name Issa. For part of her early life, she had been raised at the palace, and knew both it and the royal court intimately. Mira was grateful to have someone so knowledgeable at her side. She had studied Alerian politics over the last several years out of necessity, but Issa seemed to know things intrinsically. She would be an invaluable resource, and, Mira hoped, a trusted friend.


    Issa talked a while about the court, which lords sided with whom, and some of the more recent gossip. After talking briefly about Prince Rhoden, and the far away college where he spent most of the year, they discussed the treaty and its affect upon Aleria¡¯s main export: salt.


    ¡°Of course,¡± said Issa, after they had passed a village half-inhabited by cows, ¡°my father¡¯s trade will become more important than ever. He¡¯s sold salt for nearly half of his life. It¡¯s a shame his health has declined so rapidly.¡±


    <hr>


    After several hours, the carriages rounded a bend in the forest which had engulfed them, and the city of Torran was suddenly before them.


    Surrounded by expansive fields, Torran was built upon a great hill, which itself was shadowed by the Crown, the tallest and most majestic of the mountains that surrounded the valley kingdom. Snow reached down almost to brush the city roofs. At the base of the hill was a stone wall, which had once enclosed all of the city. In recent decades, however, many new buildings had been built without it, inns with thick wooden beams and housing for craftsmen and peasants.


    The rest of the city rose from the wall, a vast mass of roofs and smoking chimneys. Here and there were dotted trees, indications of gardens and walkways. The streets wound in and out of one another like a loom, meeting together and splitting apart. The main thoroughfare, much wider than the rest, led gradually to the top.


    Two buildings were the most prominent. In the center of the hill was the enormous copper dome of the Citadel, a cathedral that far outdated the buildings around it. There, she would be married in a few short days. Mira gazed up at it as the carriage rocked. She had been to the Citadel only once before, as a small girl. Now that she better understood its significance, she relished the chance to be able to visit it more often. There was so much history there, right at her fingertips. It was said Renthalas, the Sun King, had caused the Citadel to be built. Having been raised in the belief that Renthalas was the very offspring of Ennis himself, Mira was elated to be so close to a building of such historical significance.


    At the top of the city was the royal palace, a sprawling building of grey stone walls and towers which imitated the mountains that surrounded it. Some in Mesia had called it austere, being accustomed to the modern, grandiose buildings which were more common in the lowlands. Mira felt some trepidation as she gazed upon the palace. There laid her future, within those walls. There she was to to be married, to take her place as queen someday, there to raise a family, alongside her husband. The thoughts were as exciting as they were overwhelming.


    Once through the main gates of the city wall, an escort of guards in navy livery joined the company of carriages. Here, the streets were lined with excited crowds. Mira swallowed her anxiety and sat forward, allowing herself to be seen, if only in a flash, to her soon-to-be subjects.


    Their procession made its slow way through the city, coming ever closer to the palace. When they reached the center of the city and passed by the Citadel, Mira leaned forward, seeing the carved statues and beautiful arches that decorated the facade. The square before the Citadel was filled with people, who cheered and waved ribbons in the air as the carriages rattled by.


    At the top of the city, the Mesian company came at last to the great iron gates and stone walls of the royal palace. The guards drew the gates aside, and they went along a drive lined with low bushes and large, sweeping lawns. Before the gray walls of the palace was a courtyard, into which the company passed. The drivers maneuvered the carriages around until they came to a stop at a wide stairway and the grand doors of the palace of Aleria.


    On the steps were a great number of people. Lords and ladies in fine dress, a mass of Alerian King¡¯s Guards in navy with the Toradian raven emblazoned across their chests, and servants of elevated rank. Mira saw Cael immediately, his hair shining golden in the afternoon sun like a beacon of light. He stood next to his father, King Garazor, who looked resplendent in robes of blue and silver. And next to them, standing almost as though he were the king¡¯s shadow, was Prince Rhoden.


    Mira tried not to stare as the carriages came to a halt and the footmen stepped forward to open the doors. Her parents left first, obscuring the crowd from view for a moment, but as Mira exited herself, she could see quite clearly.


    She thought she had been prepared for her first glimpse of the so-called Shadow Prince, but his appearance still shocked her. In the bright daylight, and in sable robes, he looked almost like a statue carved of black stone. He seemed too dark to be real. Mira¡¯s eyes flicked between Rhoden and Cael, remembering tales half-forgotten from her childhood: of the great Ren, warrior of light, and his dearest friend Tor, prince of the darkness. It seemed that those stories were coming alive before her eyes.


    Once the Mesian party had disembarked, they gathered behind King Sebastt, facing their hosts. Mira met eyes with Cael and he smiled openly, a smile meant just for her. In an instant, her anxiety disappeared. The trouble will be solved, his smile told her. She ducked her head, hiding a smile of her own.


    Her father whispered quietly to her, ¡°This begins your test, Dear Heart. Are you ready?¡±


    Mira looked once more at Prince Rhoden. His eyes were fixed upon his brother and his expression was unreadable on his dark face.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she murmured. Whatever was to come, she was going to face it with her heart open and her intentions honest. She was determined that she would think well of the young man who was soon to become her brother.


    Her father gently touched her elbow and smiled.


    King Garazor raised his hand before the crowd of disembarked Mesians.


    ¡°Welcome, King Sebastt, and your retinue,¡± he said in a loud voice. ¡°Aleria greets you with honest friendship in this happy hour.¡±


    ¡°We are grateful to have traveled safely, and to have arrived in your charming kingdom,¡± said King Sebastt in return.


    After a formal exchange of gifts, the crowd parted so that Mira and Cael faced each other. He half-bounded down the stairs, his smile like a ray of pure sunshine.


    ¡°Lady Miriandri,¡± he said, once he stood before her. ¡°It is good to see you again.¡±


    ¡°And you,¡± said Mira, curtsying.


    Matching his smile with her own, she took his arm and together they led both crowds, Mesian and Alerian. It wasn¡¯t until later, after she had refreshed herself in her rooms, that she realized she had not seen Prince Rhoden among them.

 Chapter 4 - A Cycle of Change Pt. 1

    The evening of the Mesians¡¯ arrival, there was a great feast. Every Alerian lord and lady who could acquire an invitation made their way to the royal palace at sundown. The great hall of the palace was filled to bursting with guests wearing their finest: suits so covered in embroidery that the fabric itself could not be seen; skirts and gown overladen with frills and lace and gems. For this was the precursory celebration of what was to come, a formal acknowledgement of the treaty between Mesia and Aleria and the changing of the royal betrothal to a royal engagement.


    Rhoden spent as much of the day in his rooms as he could, avoiding any need to leave unless absolutely necessary. His discussion with Cael the day before had renewed a spark within him. Cael was certain he could find a solution betwixt Rhoden and Hestran, and Rhoden was determined to help how he could. What interested him at the moment was the authority of the Ennist Church in the matter of the Chronicles. As the books were no longer banned by law, merely principle, he was uncertain whether their jurisdiction held or their judgement from the other day had merit. Despite Hestran¡¯s stinging rejection, determination was once again building within him. Maybe there was a way to read the books after all, to go around the church. Maybe.


    He had retrieved the necessary volumes and papers from the royal library and had established a corner of his bedchamber as his center of study, but the noise from the arriving guests made him ill at ease. He wished, again, that he were back in his cell at Tellegar. The scholars all knew better than to disturb a man when he was deep in research. He wished those in Torran knew the same.


    As the sun set, Rhoden met his uncle and together they joined the crowd in the great hall. Long tables had been gathered in rows to accommodate all the guests. Mesians and Alerians milled about, talking freely. Most conversation halted when he walked by, the speakers, as ever, at a loss for words.


    Rhoden kept his eye on every Mesian he saw. As with Derrick Soraldson, the swords master, he did not completely trust any of them. Not until the treaty was signed and King Sebastt was held to his word. And, even then, they would see if, in the ensuing years, the Mesians would keep their promises.


    Since the Great Schism, both nations were in opposition to one another. Once, they had lived in harmony, all under the guiding influence of the Ennist Church and a long line of just kings leading back to the Sun King himself. But when a group broke away, established their own rulers and laws, and began worshipping the Sun King, it caused a war on religion the likes of which had never been seen, then, or since. The Alerians had stayed in the mountains, while the Mesians left and established their new kingdom in the fertile lowland plains to the west. The Alerians saw the Mesian¡¯s rejection of Ennism as apostasy and branded every Mesian a heretic.


    Such stark differences in belief had made it nearly impossible for the two nations to reconcile and had littered the last six centuries with war. With each side insisting that they would convert the other to their beliefs, exterminating anyone who would not, the gulf between Mesia and Aleria grew ever wider. Rhoden¡¯s father had fought in the most recent dispute, nearly thirty years ago. It was these experiences, as well as a more tolerant generation, that had encouraged him to suggest and implement the treaty.


    Other attempts to broker peace between the kingdoms had been attempted in the past, of course, but none had come so far. King Garazor¡¯s inclusion of a royal marriage to seal the treaty was one reason it had the potential to become something great. Both families wanted the best for their children. Both kingdoms, though they may not have admitted it openly, were happy to have an end to the conflict at last.


    But still, Rhoden doubted. He kept a wary eye on every guest he did not recognize. The previous treaties had not succeeded, for one reason or another. It would be foolish to ignore the fact and claim that all would go well with this one. Better to be prepared for the worst and be pleasantly surprised when things resolved themselves without conflict than to be caught without a plan.


    Rhoden kept a small knife hidden in the sleeve of his jacket, in a pocket he had made specifically for it. Merely a precaution, but he felt better knowing it was there.


    The feast passed without incident, an overblown celebration flowing with food and music and laughter. Rhoden sat at the high table next to his brother and uncle and suffered the stares and comments of the guests in the great hall. The minutes dragged on in their own endless eternities. He counted each one until he could leave without consequence.


    When the feast had ended, all conversation ceased as a white-robed Ennist priest led Cael and his betrothed, the Lady Miriandri Escallon, forward. In a loud voice, the priest recited scripture over their clasped hands and they pledged their intentions of marriage. The hall erupted into thunderous applause, and then the tables were dragged away to provide a dancing space in the center. Cael and Miriandri were the first to move to the music, laughing and smiling as others joined.


    Rhoden watched, tucked in the shadows at the edge of the room. For all that the marriage had been arranged by their parents, it seemed no better match could have been made. Cael and his betrothed had spent their lives preparing for this, and they had developed more than just a cordial friendship. As he watched his brother¡¯s face, glowing with joy, Rhoden knew it was not mere duty that drew him to her.


    Miriandri was certainly beautiful, that Rhoden could admit without hesitation. Flame-red hair drawn up at the back of her head in elaborate braids. Porcelain skin flushed from dancing. Her youthful energy seemed a perfect match to Cael¡¯s exuberance, and she looked up at him with adoration in her eyes.


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    Yes, Rhoden thought. A perfect match.


    His eyes sought Miriandri¡¯s family in the crowd, finding them on the edges. He had not yet found occasion to talk with them, though he spotted them easily. Lord and Lady Escallon stood near the edge of the dancing floor with their three other daughters, the eldest two of which were eyeing the younger barons in the crowd. The youngest daughter was quite small, not yet reaching her father¡¯s elbow. She tugged at it, begging for a dance, but Lord Escallon was deep in conversation with an Alerian duke and did not notice. For a moment, the little girl held his gaze. Her bright hair matched her eldest sister¡¯s exactly.


    Rhoden was about to turn his eyes away when a familiar face flashed near where the Escallons were standing. Issa Roth. She came to the young girl and took her hand, leading her away, and Rhoden¡¯s heart skipped a step. There had been a time, several years before, the only time he had ever considered that anything akin to Cael¡¯s happiness could happen to him. Issa had been raised in the palace, a companion to a would-have-been princess. Rhoden remembered many times having played with her in his youth during his visits to the palace. When his mother, Queen Thena, had died in childbirth, the need for a princess¡¯s companion had been eliminated, and yet, Issa had remained. Rhoden and Cael had speculated that she was there to be their play companion, or else as a favor to Lord Roth, with whom their father shared a deep connection.


    Then, when Rhoden grew old enough to understand his father¡¯s true intentions of arranging a marriage between the pair, he had been embarrassed and horrified. Issa was like the sister they never had, and he did not want to think of her as anything more. There had been a moment, very brief, when he had considered the betrothal, but ultimately he found he could not. When he and his uncle returned to Tellegar College that year, Rhoden began in earnest to search for an area of study. He had been certain¡ªa belief which had only grown through the ensuing years¡ªthat he would spend the rest of his life among the scholars. He told himself he preferred that life, and threw himself into study and research, but there was now an empty hole in his heart that he could not fill. Later, he had learned with equal measures of relief and embarrassment that Issa, for one reason or another, had refused the arrangement as well.


    Watching from the shadows, across a room that felt as vast as a world, Rhoden did not have to wonder why. He did not belong in this world. There was no acceptance, only loneliness. In the world he traversed, there was no room for companionship, or even love.


    He moved around the room, walking slowly towards an exit, when Cael suddenly appeared.


    ¡°There you are!¡± he cried. ¡°We¡¯ve been looking everywhere for you. Rhoden, allow me to introduce Mira.¡±


    The Lady Miriandri stepped forward, a bright smile on her face. The chandelier light cast a red halo around her head. She curtsied and Rhoden returned a short bow.


    ¡°My lady,¡± he murmured.


    ¡°It¡¯s good to meet you at last, Rhoden,¡± she said. Her eyes shone in the lights from above. ¡°I¡¯ve heard so many things about you.¡±


    Rhoden gave Cael an annoyed look, which he ignored.


    ¡°My dear,¡± said Cael, taking Miriandri¡¯s hand in his own, ¡°you must excuse my brother. He is not accustomed to being the topic of conversation.¡± He leaned in slightly, grinning. ¡°He does not like when I speak about him to others.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± said Miriandri.


    ¡°I do not mind the gossip,¡± said Rhoden, ¡°but I worry what things my brother may say that are private and that I have spoken in confidence.¡±


    Cael laughed. ¡°Have you so little faith in me?¡± he asked. ¡°Or is it that you¡¯re fearful people will know the truth?¡±


    He bent his head to Miriandri¡¯s ear and said in a carrying whisper: ¡°My brother is deathly afraid¡­of horses.¡±


    Miriandri giggled, and even Rhoden found himself relaxing.


    ¡°Truly?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Terrible beasts. They are the epitome of unpredictability,¡± said Rhoden, shaking his head. ¡°They never do what they¡¯re supposed to. And their tempers are something to be reckoned with.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps that is because you never properly learned how to ride one,¡± said Cael, grinning.


    ¡°We shall have to teach you, then,¡± said Miriandri, looked to Cael. ¡°I think you¡¯ll find horses are much more inviting when you understand them.¡±


    Rhoden bowed, a smile tugging at his mouth. ¡°Lady Miriandri,¡± he said. ¡°It appears you have found my weakness and already you¡¯ve made steps to help me improve it. However can I thank you?¡±


    Miriandri laughed, her face pink. ¡°Call it a gesture of friendship,¡± she said. ¡°And please, Rhoden. Call me Mira. I insist.¡±


    Rhoden smiled. ¡°Very well. Cael, Mira, if you¡¯ll excuse me, I have matters to which I must attend.¡±


    ¡°Ah yes,¡± said Cael. ¡°The never-ending search of the scholar. Be careful, my dear, or he may convert you to his faith in the written word.¡±


    ¡°I consider myself already to be a believer,¡± said Mira, returning his smile. When Cael looked at her curiously, she said, ¡°I didn¡¯t spend my entire life surrounded only by embroidery and music lessons. Some of us women like to read, too, you know.¡±


    ¡°Good heavens,¡± said Cael, raising a hand to his head in mock horror. ¡°A female scholar? What will this world come to next?¡±


    Together, they all laughed. Then, after bidding Rhoden good-night, the pair of them slipped away, rejoining the crowd. Rhoden watched them for a moment, a warm feeling blossoming inside his chest.


    Yes, he thought. A good match, indeed.


    Then, while the couples danced, and song and laughter filled the air like perfume, Rhoden slipped, quiet and unnoticed, away from it all.

 Chapter 4 - A Cycle of Change Pt. 2

    To his surprise, when he awoke the next morning, he found he had received a summons to visit the king. Dressing quickly, his weariness vanished as his mind raced. He thought he knew why his father had summoned him. It seemed the plans Cael had alluded to the other morning were now coming to pass.


    Horst met him at the door, and together they were led in silence through the palace by two King¡¯s Guards. At the king¡¯s chambers, Horst waited quietly in a sitting area, while one of the guards led Rhoden to an adjacent room where the king was waiting. The doors closed behind Rhoden and he took a deep breath, trying to calm his thundering heart.


    The subject of the Chronicles¡ªwhich he was certain this discussion would be about¡ªnow brought him anxiety, but it was nothing compared to what he felt when he faced his father.


    King Garazor stood before a window, which looked out over the expansive gardens behind the palace. His presence filled the small room, calming, regal. Though shorter even than Cael, he was like the mountains that surrounded Aleria: firm, solid, unyielding. His brown hair and beard, streaked with silver, shone in the light.


    When he heard the doors close, he turned, his robes rustling.


    ¡°Rhoden,¡± he said, his voice a quiet rumble. ¡°Thank you for coming.¡±


    Rhoden gave a stiff bow, but did not come closer. Through the years, the king had come to resemble the mountains in another way, in his mind. Cold, distant, unassailable. Something that should be admired and respected from a distance, but never traversed, never truly trusted. This was the man, after all, who had banished Rhoden to Tellegar, who rarely spoke with, let alone looked at him. He had no idea what to expect.


    ¡°Have you eaten?¡± the king asked. He gestured to a platter of scones, which sat on a table nearby. ¡°I had Lem send these specially.¡±


    Though the palace cook¡¯s scones were his favorite, Rhoden shook his head. ¡°Thank you, but I am not hungry.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    Garazor turned back to the window. There was a long moment of pregnant silence. Rhoden kept his eyes fixed on his father, wary, uncertain.


    ¡°It truly is amazing,¡± Garazor muttered. ¡°The changing of the seasons. The world stays trapped beneath a blanket of ice for months and yet, every year, we can see this.¡± He waved a hand at the window. ¡°What was once considered dead is brought back to life. And soon, it will die again. A cycle of life and death. A cycle of change.¡±


    Rhoden¡¯s brow wrinkled. His father wanted to talk to him¡­about the seasons?


    Garazor turned to Rhoden. He clasped his hands in front of him, and his head was bowed, almost as though he were unsure.


    ¡°Forgive me,¡± he said. ¡°I lose my tongue whenever I speak with you. Somehow, I can never find the right words.¡±


    He raised his head, and his light blue eyes pierced Rhoden¡¯s heart.


    ¡°I heard what occurred with Lord Hestran and the Ennist priests. I am sorry it happened. You should not have been put in such an embarrassing situation. Know that I have spoken at length with them, and that Hestran is receiving the proper consequences for his treatment of you.¡±


    Rhoden was stunned. Was that¡­an apology?


    Garazor continued, ¡°I also want you to know that the Thalist priests, with King Sebastt¡¯s support, have requested your exclusion from the wedding. They are quite adamant that you do not attend.¡±


    Rhoden¡¯s shock gave way to a flush of hot anger. ¡°So,¡± he said, fighting to keep his voice calm, ¡°I am to be banished from that as well? Shall I escort myself back to Tellegar, where I can be forgotten for another year?¡±


    His words seemed to wound his father. Garazor¡¯s face fell, and his shoulders slumped. Rhoden felt a moment of savage pleasure, then, strangely, it sank into shame. Every moment of every day, certainly any time Rhoden had seen him, his father was the very example of what a king should be: strong, resolute, confident. To see him so altered was unnerving. It was as though the rough exterior of his father had been lifted away, and Rhoden was not sure whether he liked what he was finding beneath.


    ¡°We talk so rarely, I never know,¡± Garazor muttered. ¡°I never ask what you think of me. Another failing of mine, I know that. But¡­you truly believe I would be so heartless? To exclude you from Cael¡¯s marriage?¡±


    He turned away, his face drawn into deep lines. He looked suddenly decades older and frailer. ¡°Your opinion of me is less than I thought.¡±


    Rhoden paused, shame and confusion battling within him.


    ¡°I can attend?¡± he asked. ¡°But¡­what about the priests and their demand?¡±


    ¡°Damn the Thalists,¡± Garazor half-growled. ¡°You¡¯ll attend your brother¡¯s marriage, even if I have to re-write the treaty. Despite our agreements, the Mesians will not dictate how my kingdom is to be run. Nor how I should treat my own sons.¡±


    Rhoden felt his mouth move, but could make no sound. He had rarely, if ever, heard his father refer to him as his son. Garazor had always been so distant and cool towards him. What had caused this change?


    He looked, bewildered, at the king. ¡°Are you feeling all right?¡± he asked. ¡°Shall I call a physician?¡±


    Garazor gave a bark-like laugh. ¡°Why? Because I¡¯m trying to establish a relationship with a son I hardly know? Because I¡¯m trying to grow again after a long winter? Because I¡¯m trying to change?¡±


    Rhoden had no words to respond. He merely stood before the doors and stared at his father.


    Garazor began to pace, the edges of his robe whispering across the wooden floor. ¡°The behavior of Lord Hestran and the Thalist priests has made something clear to me,¡± he said. ¡°It confirms a fear that I have long held. That the people of this world¡ªAleria, Mesia, my own lords, the priests of God¡ªdo not see you for who you are. And I am the cause.


    ¡°I¡¯ve failed you, my son,¡± he said. He stopped pacing and looked piercingly at Rhoden once more. ¡°I should not have sent you to Tellegar. It has only isolated you beyond what I ever intended.¡± He straightened his shoulders, his expression apprehensive. ¡°If you are willing, I want to¡­start over. If such a thing is possible.¡±


    Rhoden¡¯s mind tumbled with questions. The foremost burned within him: if you did not intend to isolate me, Father, then why send me away at all? Why was I banished?


    Aloud, he said, ¡°What would that entail?¡±


    ¡°Change,¡± said his father. ¡°I would¡­well, I would know you better, Rhoden. I¡¯ve kept myself distant because I thought it would make the separation easier on you. But I see now that perhaps I was wrong. I know I cannot atone for lost time, but for the time that is left to us, I would that this gulf between us is mended.¡±


    Rhoden offered no response, and Garazor shuffled his feet.


    ¡°I also want our people¡ªthe Council, especially¡ªto understand who you are, to leave them with no question in their minds that you are a royal prince of the house Toradian. They need to learn that you are not, and never were, what they fear you to be.¡±


    Garazor ran a hand over his face. ¡°Though that, too, is my fault,¡± he whispered, almost too quiet to hear.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Rhoden asked.


    His father looked at him, and Rhoden saw a pain there he did not expect. It seemed to reach into the king¡¯s very soul, where it hid, burrowing just below the surface.


    Garazor sighed. ¡°I suppose change cannot come without trust,¡± he mused quietly. ¡°I¡¯m unsure whether I have the right words, but¡­ You used to ask me what I knew about your childhood. About the circumstances that brought about your¡­transformation. I told you that I knew nothing. It was a lie.¡±


    Rhoden felt a shock so powerful he went numb with it. He had always guessed, always thought that perhaps his father had known more about his childhood than he was telling him. But to hear confirmation of his theory, after so much time, was jarring.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Rhoden asked through unfeeling lips.


    Garazor turned back to the window, looking out over the palace gardens. His gaze was distant, as though he were staring into the past.


    ¡°I¡­made a deal,¡± he said, his voice low and husky. ¡°Nearly two decades ago. Someone very powerful was able to¡­help me. I did not know what he wanted in exchange until¡­¡± He turned to Rhoden, his eyes shining. ¡°I¡ªI am sorry, Rhoden,¡± he said, wringing his hands. ¡°The memories are too painful. I thought I could, but¡­ I¡¯m not prepared to¡­to talk about them yet.¡±


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    Rhoden took a step forward. He felt anger grow, hot as coals, within him. ¡°All these years,¡± he growled. ¡°All these years, you knew the truth. And you kept it from me. You banished me. Like a leper to be thrown aside and cast away.¡±


    ¡°It was for your own protection.¡±


    Rhoden let out a mirthless laugh. ¡°Really? For my protection? Are you certain it wasn¡¯t for others?¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± said Garazor, his expression pained. ¡°Please, Rhoden. I don¡¯t wish to argue with you. You¡¯ve no idea how much I deserve your anger and disdain, and more besides. You have every reason to hate me, and you would be justified in it. The things I¡¯ve done¡­I wish I never had¡­¡± He trailed off, then straightened himself. ¡°There¡¯s so much I want to tell you¡­and I will. My mind has been busy of late with the wedding and the treaty. There is still much to be done in the course of the next days. They will be some of the most important in our history and must be handled with delicacy. Nothing can go wrong.¡±


    He looked Rhoden squarely in the face, and once again appeared regal and confident. ¡°As soon as those days are over, I will tell you everything you want to know. There will be no more secrets. I swear it.¡±


    Rhoden hesitated, feeling his anger drain slowly away. He nodded curtly.


    ¡°That will not give us much time,¡± he said. ¡°Horst and I leave for Tellegar only two days after the wedding.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± said Garazor. ¡°Yes, that was the other matter I wished to discuss with you.¡± He twisted a ring on his finger. ¡°If the attitude of my subjects towards you is to change, there needs to be something to motivate that change. You will come of age in two months¡¯ time. I believe we are long overdue for a kind of¡­official recognition. A ceremony, to announce, once and for all, that you are a royal prince, and my son. I thought that your name-day would be the perfect occasion.¡±


    Rhoden scrutinized his father, and realized to his surprise the sincerity there. It seemed Garazor truly believed a resolution could be made between them. And, despite the years of confusion and pain and anger he felt toward his father, Rhoden found himself wanting it, too.


    Inexplicably, he wanted to please him, this man who had rejected him for so long. It hardly made sense, but he felt the truth resonate deep within him. His father was offering him what he had always wanted: acceptance. And his heart yearned desperately for it.


    ¡°We would have to arrange travel with the scholars,¡± said Rhoden, after a moment. Then, as the platter of scones now looked appetizing, he walked forward and took one. ¡°They use the carriages more often than you would think. But perhaps it could work.¡±


    ¡°What if I were to ask you to leave Tellegar?¡± Garazor said abruptly. ¡°To end your exile and live here in the palace, permanently?¡±


    Rhoden nearly dropped the scone. An invisible knife twisted into his chest. ¡°Leave the college?¡±


    ¡°I can see now that sending you to Tellegar was a mistake. It has only increased the mystery around you, and made the tales grow wild in people¡¯s mind. To change how they think about you, they must come to know you. And they cannot do that if you are sequestered hundreds of miles away.¡±


    Rhoden stared at his father. He was so different, so altered from how he had always been. If the king was right, and the lords¡¯ treatment towards Rhoden had caused this change of heart, then he found himself ever so slightly grateful for the embarrassment of the other day.


    But¡­to leave the college? The cobbled walls and dusty shelves of the buildings had been his home for nearly fifteen years. It felt more homely and comfortable than the royal palace had ever been. The scholars there had become his family. He loved their quiet, age-cracked voices, their eyes dark from years studying manuscripts by candlelight. He loved the halls and the gardens, the orchard and the hills. Could he leave that behind?


    ¡°I¡ªI am not sure,¡± Rhoden stuttered. ¡°I can¡¯t leave my studies¡­¡±


    ¡°I would not ask you to,¡± said Garazor. ¡°Anything you require, you would have, my son. We could send for books from Tellegar, even commission an addition to our library. For the privilege of keeping you here, I would move the very mountains.¡±


    Rhoden blinked. ¡°You¡­know what it is I¡¯m studying, don¡¯t you?¡± he asked hesitantly. ¡°I thought you would¡­disapprove of the subject.¡±


    Garazor threw back his head and let out a booming laugh. For a moment, he looked exactly like Cael.


    ¡°Disapprove?¡± he said, still smiling. ¡°I think I held a secret hope that you would be drawn to the Shadows. It was only natural, given your situation. No, Rhoden. I will not stop you. In fact, I¡¯m working with the priests and Lord Hestran, to get you access to those books you so wanted. The Chronicles, wasn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡± Rhoden¡¯s mind swirled. ¡°Aren¡¯t the priests quite adamant about keeping them away from me?¡±


    ¡°They are,¡± Garazor admitted. ¡°And they deserve to be given orders, for once, rather than issuing them. Some of the laws they have placed around old information is extremely outdated. I¡¯m trying to make them see this.¡±


    Rhoden realized he had crumbled the scone in his hand. He brushed the pieces off, thinking hard.


    ¡°They told me I would be expelled from the church if I read them,¡± he said. ¡°That is the traditional punishment.¡±


    ¡°They can certainly try,¡± Garazor said, smiling grimly. ¡°But you are a royal prince, my son. They will not be given that power, unless I or the Council grant it to them.¡±


    Rhoden ducked his head, nodding. Finally, he said, ¡°This¡­is a very generous offer, Father.¡± He savored the word on his tongue. Father. When was the last time he had spoken the word aloud? He cleared his throat. ¡°I¡¯ll need some time to consider it. You¡¯ve given me much to think about.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± said Garazor. ¡°Take whatever time you need. I plan to speak with the Council this evening regarding the treaty and other matters. If you have your decision by then, I would like to announce it. I think it would be best to tell them before the wedding.¡±


    Rhoden nodded.


    After a slight hesitation, Garazor reached out and grasped Rhoden¡¯s shoulder. Rhoden met his father¡¯s eyes and, for the first time in a long time, felt no malice.


    ¡°I know what I¡¯m asking of you will require a great deal of sacrifice,¡± Garazor said softly. ¡°That is, I¡¯m afraid, the nature of being a leader, and being royal. People will look to you, for good and for ill. When you are in the light, you must set the example for those who still walk in the shadows. That is why they need us.¡±


    Rhoden was silent for a moment. ¡°What if I can¡¯t¡­live up to that? What if the people don¡¯t change their minds about me?¡±


    ¡°You cannot control that, my son. Only how you act.¡±


    Rhoden nodded again, then pulled away. Garazor¡¯s hand dropped to his side. Rhoden felt a sudden urge to leave, to get away.


    ¡°I¡¯ll¡­let you know what I decide,¡± he said, and fled the room.


    <hr>


    Less than an hour later, Horst paced the floor in Rhoden¡¯s chambers, his face a grumbling storm cloud. He had listened to Rhoden¡¯s account of his conversation with the king, offering no comment. Slowly, his face had become darker and darker, and still he did not speak. When he was done, Rhoden sat, perched on the armrest of a chair, and watched his uncle with impatient anticipation.


    ¡°Well?¡± he asked, unable to hold back his eagerness. ¡°What do you think? Shall I accept?¡±


    Horst blew out his cheeks, his beard billowing.


    ¡°What do I think?¡± he growled. ¡°I think that your father has finally lost his mind.¡±


    Rhoden frowned.


    ¡°He understands the risks,¡± Horst muttered. ¡°Why he would forget them now, I do not know.¡± He looked at Rhoden, his eyes sparks of quiet fire. ¡°You must refuse the offer, Nephew.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Rhoden stood from the chair, irritation coursing through him. ¡°Uncle, for the first time in my life, my father is offering to accept me. He wants me to live here, to start over. This¡­¡± He stopped, swallowing a lump that had risen in his throat. ¡°This is what I¡¯ve always wanted.¡±


    ¡°To stay at the palace would be too great a risk,¡± said Horst, shaking his head. ¡°Once this mess is over, we are returning to Tellegar. There¡¯s no discussion.¡± He turned away, as though the conversation was finished.


    Outrage burst through Rhoden like a lightning strike. With two long strides, he blocked Horst¡¯s way to the door. He glared up at Rhoden, who glared back.


    ¡°Let me pass,¡± Horst growled.


    ¡°No. If you¡¯re going to deny me this chance to make a better life for myself, I will have an answer, Uncle. Why must I refuse the offer?¡±


    ¡°There are things you don¡¯t understand. It is too dangerous for you.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    Horst¡¯s beard bristled. ¡°It¡¯s not for me to say,¡± he muttered. ¡°But, believe me, Rhoden. You are not safe here.¡±


    ¡°I see no threat,¡± said Rhoden, sweeping his eyes around the room. ¡°What are you talking about? Does the Council of Lords wish me harm? Or, perhaps, the Ennist priests?¡±


    Horst remained silent, glaring at the floor. Rhoden¡¯s anger flared.


    ¡°Do you truly expect me to spend my entire life hidden away from the world in a backwater town? To live completely in the shadows, away from everyone and everything?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s for your protection,¡± Horst growled.


    ¡°That¡¯s what my father said,¡± Rhoden said, frowning. ¡°Why is it for my protection? Is it truly because I am in danger? Or is it because you fear I could bring danger to others?¡±


    Horst pushed past him. At the door, he stopped and turned back. ¡°I can see that no matter what I say, you will not believe me. Do what you wish, Nephew. The consequences be upon your own head.¡±


    ¡°Somehow, Uncle, I don¡¯t think they will.¡±


    Horst gave a curt nod, then left, slamming the door behind him.


    Rhoden stood motionless in the middle of the room for a while and listened as Horst¡¯s footsteps died away down the hallway. He realized, with a twinging pain in his stomach, that this was the first time they had ever truly argued.


    <hr>


    The Council of Lords met late that evening. As they all gathered around the table, which was crammed full of lords, priests, and visiting Mesians, King Garazor announced, to the amazement of all, that Prince Rhoden would be receiving official recognition in two months¡¯ time, at his coming of age, and that he would be staying permanently in the palace. Cael thumped Rhoden on the back, a smile so wide on his face it could have lit the night. Mira and her father smiled and clapped approvingly, as did many of the lords and priests around the table. Even King Sebastt, a corpulent, round-faced, white-haired man, rose to shake Rhoden¡¯s hand.


    It came as no real surprise that Lord Hestran and a handful of his supporters remained silent and unsmiling at one end of the table. Rhoden ignored them. He looked for a face he hoped to see, but could not see his uncle in the crowd anywhere.


    After discussing the details of the treaty, and solidifying a few pieces of information regarding the wedding, the council was dismissed. While Cael threw an arm around his shoulder and walked out with him, Rhoden kept his eyes roving for Horst¡¯s familiar, grumpy face. He thought he caught a glimpse of brown hair and beard, but when he looked again, they had gone.

 Entracte - The King

    The king was tall and black-skinned, his ebony hair streaked with eternal silver. He watched over his people like a shepherd watched over his flock. He had been their guardian for ages uncounted. He had sacrificed everything¡ªmore than they would ever know¡ªto stand before them now.


    His subjects danced beneath a black sky, glittering with stars. Blue lanterns strung around the dance floor cast eerie shadows across the night. It was as though they were underwater, deep creatures who swayed with the tides. Cold, distant, mysterious, they moved like wraiths in the shadowed dark.


    The dancers parted, and a lone figure approached the king. Tall, with some of the awkwardness of youth still in his gangling limbs, Prince Rhoden bowed.


    ¡°You look well tonight,¡± the king remarked.


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    Prince Rhoden¡¯s face glowed. ¡°My father has decreed that I will remain in the palace. I am no longer banished.¡±


    ¡°That is good news, indeed,¡± mused the king. ¡°Very good news.¡±


    They talked for a moment of meaningless things, then the king dismissed him. Prince Rhoden returned to dancing, melding with the others, a part of them, and they of him. And still, it pleased the king, he did not see the lie.


    The king turned and looked to the city beyond the dancers, black walls and turrets rising into the darkness. Yes, it was good that Rhoden was staying in the palace. In fact, it was the best news he could have hoped for. It simplified matters greatly.


    Triumphant, the king turned back to watch the dancers and knew that the time he had so longed for, everything he had prepared, was about to come to pass. It was all in Azare¡¯s hands, now.


    Soon, he told himself as he watched the black-skinned prince. Very soon.

 Chapter 5 - More Proud Pt. 1

    As the next two weeks passed, it quickly became apparent to Rhoden that he had made a mistake in accepting his father¡¯s invitation. The excitement that had fueled his decision evaporated in the face of new developments. Though he had spent the majority of his life tending to himself, Rhoden was given a veritable army of servants: footmen and tailors, scribes and pages, a pair of King¡¯s Guards, and even a personal valet. Where his chambers had previously been quiet and secluded, now they were filled with men who either averted their gaze whenever he entered a room, or stared openly at him. They had been assigned to him by his father, but he could tell that some were less than thrilled about the prospect of serving the Shadow Prince himself.


    Rhoden tolerated them as best he could, allowing measurements for footwear and clothing with hardly a word. Cael had explained that a whole new wardrobe would be provided for him, one more fitting for a prince of the royal court. He took caution and hid some of his more comfortable clothes from the college¡ªincluding his favorite pair of walking boots¡ªbeneath a loose floorboard in his bedroom. It was good that he did, for the next day, all of the clothing he had left in his wardrobe had disappeared.


    His valet, a sour-faced man named Carlton, managed the servants with a pompous and business-like air and managed Rhoden with ill-disguised contempt. This did not come as a surprise, as Carlton was one of Lord Astrall¡¯s younger sons. Rhoden had tried to explain to Cael why this was a bad idea, with Astrall being in Hestran¡¯s inner circle, but Cael had merely said it was in an effort to broker peace between the two families. If Rhoden¡¯s valet was a man from an important family, it helped to secure their standing within the court, and showed that the royal family was willing to allow them a chance at reconciliation. As he endured Carlton¡¯s barely-veiled sarcasm, Rhoden was beginning to feel that court politics were much more trouble than they were worth.


    He found every opportunity he could to escape the now excruciating confinements of his chambers, visiting the library or small sitting rooms that were unknown to the other guests of the palace. But, to his dismay, there were always pages lingering in the corners of rooms, and Carlton had an uncanny habit of knowing exactly where he would go. Without fail, his pair of guards would find him, like two burs stuck mercilessly to the hide of a fox.


    Rhoden spent the majority of his days with Cael. Now that it was certain Rhoden would remain in the palace, Cael had made it his duty to teach Rhoden about the palace and the court, giving him unofficial lessons in culture and history.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got to make up for everything you¡¯ve missed!¡± Cael chortled. ¡°There¡¯s no use being a prince if you¡¯ve no idea the difference between an Alerian waltz and a Carstanian polonaise!¡±


    Rhoden endured the dancing lessons, partially to escape his own servants, and partially because it gave him an opportunity to come to know Mira better. She was often at Cael¡¯s side, sometimes with her mother, other times with her sisters. Rhoden tried to smile and reassure them that he meant them no harm, but the young girls all crowded behind their mother and stared at him with wide eyes.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Mira said, as she led him through the steps of a gigue. ¡°They¡¯ll come around. They just don¡¯t know quite what to think.¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, I¡¯m well accustomed to it,¡± Rhoden murmured, watching as Cael danced with Issa Roth.


    The smallest sister peeked from behind her mother¡¯s skirts and, with a mischievous look, stuck her tongue out at him. Rhoden returned the gesture when Mira¡¯s head was turned. The girl¡¯s eyes widened and she ducked her head down again out of sight. Cael, who had witnessed the exchange, laughed loudly.


    Despite the brief levity, Rhoden saw that, as each day wore on and the closer they came to the wedding date, the more agitated and restless his brother became. He thought that perhaps it had to do with the fact that Derrick Soraldson, the swords master, was gone. The man had disappeared without a word to anyone, sometime after the Mesian party had arrived, and his absence was sorely felt. Rhoden found himself sparring most mornings with his brother, and could see the confusion and anger in his eyes.


    Rhoden felt a small measure of relief, having had his doubts about the man¡¯s loyalties, but Derrick¡¯s disappearance still gave him pause. He was certain that not everything was as it seemed with the Mesians, but he had nothing to prove it. Everything was progressing toward the wedding without issue. It should have been comforting, but Rhoden found his nights becoming increasingly restless. He often awoke late at night, covered in sweat.


    Derrick was not the only one to have gone missing. Since their argument, Horst Bellenan was hardly to be seen around the palace. Rhoden felt his absence like a hole in his heart. He and his uncle had been inseparable since the day they had arrived at Tellegar College, all those years ago. Horst had, effectively, raised him as a father would their own child. True, they¡¯d had their deal of disagreements in the past¡ªHorst seemed to relish in being the contrarian¡ªbut never had they been apart for more than a few hours at a time.


    Now, Rhoden only saw him at meals, and the man barely looked at him. Whenever Rhoden tried to approach him, Horst found a way to leave whatever conversation he had been having and vanish into the many halls of the palace. Rhoden felt frustration mount in him. He had so many questions. Why was Horst so convinced that Rhoden was in danger? The only danger he was in was that of Carlton purposefully stabbing him with a cloak pin.


    Two days after their argument, Horst disappeared for several days. He returned the palace with a stranger; a middle-aged man whom he introduced to the court as Aras Rapidian. At the mention of the name, the king grew white-faced and excused himself quickly. Rhoden watched him go with some confusion, but was interrupted from his thoughts as it was left to himself and Cael to welcome the man.


    ¡°Rapidian is from Herstett,¡± said their uncle, his face grim. ¡°Perhaps you¡¯ve heard of it.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes, the salt town,¡± said Cael, shaking the man¡¯s hand and giving him a wide smile. ¡°Lord Roth has always spoken highly of his association with your people. You provide a large portion of our exports. We are indebted to you.¡±


    Rapidian, who was slender and small, with glasses perched on his nose, bowed slightly. ¡°You are too kind, Your Highness,¡± he said, his tenor voice firm and calm. ¡°We are only one small town and are content to remain so.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have our butler prepare you a room. You are here for the wedding, I presume?¡± Cael asked.


    ¡°For that,¡± Rapidian nodded, ¡°and other matters.¡±


    His eyes met Rhoden¡¯s and for a moment, Rhoden was frozen beneath his gaze. It was as though the man looked into his very soul and weighed it. In his eyes, Rhoden could see deepness, darkness, and a grief he could find no words to describe.


    After what seemed like hours, but could only have been mere seconds, Rapidian moved his gaze, and the feeling stopped. Rhoden took a step backward, weak and slightly trembling. He opened his mouth to demand what had happened, but a servant appeared, and Horst led the guest away. Rhoden watched them go, his heart racing.


    Over the next few days, Rhoden attempted to find a moment he could speak with his uncle or Rapidian again. They were always together, talking as they walked through the gardens, or in a secluded corner of a sitting room after dinner. Their faces, from afar, appeared very serious, a far cry from the other guests who now swarmed the palace: visiting lords and ladies and dukes and duchesses who accepted the invitations given them and roamed the corridors at all hours of the day, speaking in loud voices and celebrating the wedding to come. Rhoden only rarely saw people he recognized, and even then, none approached or spoke with him. Once or twice, he saw King Sebastt of Mesia roam the palace grounds, surrounded by a gaggle of Thalist priests.


    When Rhoden found he could not corner Horst or his mysterious guest, he tried a different tactic. He had not forgotten how his father had reacted upon hearing Rapidian¡¯s name. Whoever Rapidian was, whatever he was doing here, Garazor knew something about it.


    The problem was that the king was so busy with meetings and conferences that he rarely made it even to dinners. All of the preparations for the wedding were underway, and he made sure everything was perfectly in order. Every day brought wagonloads of workers¡ªhired additionally from the city¡ªto prepare for the wedding. Garlands and ribbons were strung together and taken by wagon to the Citadel, where the ceremony was to take place. The palace staff were constantly underway, tending to the many and varied needs of the honored guests. Even Rhoden¡¯s own servants, who had so recently been given him, were requested to help in the efforts.


    Anytime he approached his father¡¯s rooms, he was turned away at the door, either by the King¡¯s Guard stationed there, or by Garazor¡¯s valet.


    ¡°His Majesty is not to be disturbed,¡± the valet would say, his voice slow and disapproving. ¡°He is engaged in matters of great importance.¡±


    Rhoden finally gave up. It was an inconvenient time, this he knew, but he had hoped to have even the smallest of discussions. He took solace in the fact that his father had promised him answers and Rhoden knew he would deliver. He was just going to have to be patient and wait until this whole affair was over.


    A few days before the wedding, Rhoden took a stack of books into his room, requested privacy, and shut the door in Carlton¡¯s face. The action gave him no small amount of pleasure.


    He still had not heard any further news regarding Dorican¡¯s Chronicles. Though the king had promised to do what he could to procure them from Lord Hestran, Rhoden had a feeling that this, too, would be delayed until after the wedding. He busied himself over the next couple of days with perusing accounts from the palace library that he had not yet read. If the sounds of grumbling voices from his sitting room were any indication, Carlton and his guards did not take kindly to his self-inflicted solitude.


    Two days before the wedding, the cooks of the palace began the enormity of preparing a great feast. Though the ceremony and celebration would take place in the Citadel, as per tradition, the ball and subsequent dinner would be at the palace. Delicious smells wafted through the corridors¡ªof roasting meats and golden pies and simmering soups. Rhoden sat inside his rooms and breathed in the rich scents and imagined the excruciating torment of the next two days.


    On the day before the wedding, the members of both royal families were called to the Citadel. The Ennist and Thalist priests had insisted upon a rehearsal of sorts, to practice how the ceremony was to be run. Rhoden rode to the Citadel in an open-topped carriage with Cael, basking in the bright sunlight of the spring day.


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    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful, isn¡¯t it?¡± said Cael, raising a hand to wave at a passing merchant. ¡°A perfect time for new beginnings.¡±


    The Citadel rose above the roofs of the other buildings, its bronze dome gleaming in the light. It was thought that the Sun King himself had ordered the construction of the building, and it certainly had stood the test of time. The structure was simple in shape: a half-circle that was much wider at the base, and which rose to the dome above. The front of the Citadel was flat, so that from the square before it, where the carriages stopped, it appeared that the building rose straight into the air to kiss the sky. Many statues stood in archways on the facade, the largest of which being that of Renthalas, the Sun King. Above his head, two great hands stretched, which represented Ennis. The Sun King held a scepter in one hand. In the other, he held the Heartstone.


    Rhoden let his eyes linger on the stone-carved representation of such a significant artifact. The Heartstone was a powerful relic of the past, and had been guarded jealously by the Ennist Church for centuries. Rhoden had only seen it a handful of times, as it was only brought out for significant royal and religious occasions. It had belonged to the Sun King, and had been given to the church upon his ascension into heaven. Some said that it still possessed the great power it once had, though Rhoden was certain the myths surrounding the Heartstone were exaggerated. If there had been a Heartstone, and if it had belonged to the Sun King, it surely had been lost centuries ago.


    The inside of the Citadel was cool, and the guests gathered together at the many doorways that lined the front. The Citadel itself was a large cathedral-like space, arranged in a half-circle that represented the rising sun. Great pillars, which had been decorated in ribbons and garlands, held the walls firm as they curved upward to meet the ribs of the dome, far above. Stained glass windows let in light, and a group of priests waited for the guests at the opposite end of the Citadel, where there was a large raised platform. The space in between had been filled with as many benches and chairs as it could hold, an indication of the number of guests who would be in attendance the next evening.


    As soon as King Garazor, King Sebastt, and Lady Miriandri and her family arrived, the rehearsal began. Rhoden quickly realized that not only was he not needed, he did not desire to be there. The priests droned on about propriety, where they were all to stand, and the exact speed at which Mira was to enter the Citadel. Rhoden nearly burst with a desire to leave. So, when the Thalist priests began to argue with the Ennist priests about which scriptures should be read, and when no one was looking, Rhoden ducked into the shadows and made his way to the front of the Citadel.


    The front comprised of three levels of balconies, each a series of alcoves, joined together by spiral staircases on the ends. Small arched windows looked out on the square below. Though mainly used by church choirs, today they were empty. Rhoden saw in them an escape, and he climbed the stairs eagerly.


    When he reached the second level, though, he paused. There were voices ahead, whispered and low. Not wanting to interrupt a private conversation, but also not wanting to give away his presence, he stood uncertain, one foot raised on the step above.


    Two people were having a heated, though whispered conversation.


    ¡°What if he should fail?¡± A man¡¯s voice.


    ¡°He will not fail. It is his birthright.¡±


    This second voice sounded like a woman¡¯s, though quite deep. There was silence, then the man spoke again.


    ¡°If anyone were to know¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll not be telling anyone, and you made an oath to me to keep your silence.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡±


    Rhoden cursed himself silently, then climbed the last two steps to the landing. Two people stood in one of the alcoves, a man and a woman. Rhoden recognized the woman immediately.


    ¡°Forgive me, Lady Issamin,¡± he said, bowing low. ¡°I did not mean to eavesdrop.¡±


    ¡°Prince Rhoden,¡± she said, the alarm on her face softening. ¡°We did not know anyone else was here.¡±


    The man was a stranger, a tall, broad man with black, curly hair. He stood behind Issa, his eyes flicking between her and Rhoden.


    ¡°Rhoden,¡± said Issa, stepping aside, ¡°this is Croftin Meran, Lord Rittal Meran¡¯s only son. Croftin, may I introduce Prince Rhoden.¡±


    ¡°We have not had the pleasure,¡± said Croftin, stepping forward and grasping Rhoden¡¯s hand tightly. ¡°I only just arrived in Torran today. Issues with the last salt load. I¡¯m glad I made it in time for the wedding, eh?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a miner?¡± Rhoden asked politely.


    ¡°Lord Meran¡¯s land borders my father¡¯s,¡± said Issa. ¡°They work together in the salt trade.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± said Rhoden.


    ¡°We were discussing some last-minute plans for the ceremony,¡± Croftin said. ¡°There is so much to prepare, I¡¯d no idea!¡± He winked at Issa. ¡°Something to look forward to, eh, my love?¡±


    Issa¡¯s cool eyes met Rhoden¡¯s. ¡°Croftin and I are betrothed,¡± she said.


    ¡°Allow me to congratulate you,¡± said Rhoden with a smile, though he felt a small stab in his heart. They both returned the smile, and Croftin placed a hand on Issa¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°She¡¯s a very special woman,¡± he said. ¡°I consider myself the luckiest of men.¡±


    Issa nodded, though it seemed stiff. ¡°We¡­well, you¡¯ve caught us in an awkward situation, Rhoden. We haven¡¯t announced it to anyone within the royal court yet. We didn¡¯t want anything to overshadow Prince Caellamar¡¯s special day. And, well¡­¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t want word to spread,¡± Rhoden murmured. ¡°You have nothing to fear from me, my lady. Your secret is safe with me.¡±


    The two of them expressed thanks, then took their leave, exiting down the staircase. Rhoden was left to himself, caught between the happiness at someone else¡¯s joy, and the pain of losing something he had never possessed.


    <hr>


    Horst found him there, several hours later, sitting on a bench in the alcove. The wedding rehearsal was long over and yet Rhoden had remained, allowing himself this chance to escape the suffocating atmosphere that was the palace. The Citadel was cool and empty and blessedly silent. For these few hours, Rhoden had felt as thought he had been transported back to the college, and his heart ached for it. There was something about silence that filled him with its sound, rejuvenated his soul. He had a feeling there would be precious little silence in his life from now on.


    His uncle¡¯s footsteps echoed slightly as he approached.


    ¡°We¡¯ve been looking everywhere for you,¡± he said, his voice full of angry reproach. ¡°There¡¯s a carriage waiting below.¡±


    Rhoden felt a weariness as deep a well settle over him. ¡°I would stay here a little longer.¡±


    ¡°This is not the college, Nephew. You do not have the luxury of sitting for hours, thinking of nothing.¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t nothing,¡± Rhoden muttered.


    ¡°You know what I mean,¡± Horst growled. ¡°You are part of the royal court. You can no longer disappear whenever you wish to. You have duties and obligations, an example to set.¡±


    Rhoden looked down at his hands. ¡°Tell me, Uncle. Have I made the right decision in staying at the palace?¡±


    ¡°You were quite passionate about it.¡±


    ¡°But is it the right choice?¡±


    ¡°If I remember correctly, you did not want my advice.¡±


    Rhoden ducked his head. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sorry for our argument,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to find you these last weeks, to apologize. I¡­¡± He trailed off, feeling lost. ¡°I thought this was what I wanted,¡± he said softly. ¡°But now I find myself surrounded by people who stare at me even more than they did before. I have no time to call my own, no space that is private. I thought that by accepting my father¡¯s offer, things would change. And they have, but I don¡¯t know if I like it.¡±


    Horst was silent for a moment. Then, with a sigh, he sat on the bench opposite Rhoden, their knees touching in the small alcove.


    ¡°Rhoden,¡± he said, and his husky voice was kind. ¡°Whether or not the decision you made was right, you have made it. You cannot undo what has been done.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just so¡­different,¡± Rhoden whispered. ¡°I knew it would be, but¡­I suppose I thought things might be¡­easier.¡±


    Horst gave a low chuckle, not unkindly. ¡°Fool boy,¡± he said. ¡°You thought that leaving the college behind and joining the royal court would be easier? Whatever simpleton raised you did a poor job, indeed.¡±


    Rhoden smiled. ¡°Do you think that simpleton would leave me?¡±


    ¡°To face the horrors of royal life alone? Never,¡± said Horst, and his beard twitched. ¡°But,¡± he added, and his face grew more serious, ¡°you have chosen a difficult path, Nephew. To have spent most of your life in seclusion and then to be thrust into the middle of court society will be challenging. You will find yourself in situations that you never expected. People will look at you. They will watch your every action, hear every word that comes out of your mouth, and they will judge you for them.¡±


    ¡°If this is meant to be encouraging, Uncle, you¡¯re doing a poor job of it,¡± Rhoden murmured.


    ¡°I tried to hide you from this,¡± said Horst quietly. ¡°All those years in Tellegar, I hoped that you would never be faced with the prospect of joining the royal court. But I realize now that I was only denying what is true. You were born a royal prince. You were meant for this life.¡±


    Rhoden once again examined his hands, the black skin, the grayish fingernails.


    ¡°And what about the danger?¡± he asked, his voice low. ¡°The danger you believe I¡¯m in by staying at the palace?¡±


    Horst¡¯s face took on a pained expression. ¡°That¡¯s not something I can tell you. But¡­¡± He gave Rhoden a mournful look. ¡°That is why Rapidian has come.¡±


    ¡°Who is he?¡± Rhoden asked, remembering once again how the man had held him with his gaze.


    ¡°He is¡­¡± Horst paused, shuffling his hands. ¡°A¡­kind of scholar. He came because he wishes to speak with both you and your father¡­about the Shadows.¡±


    Rhoden¡¯s interest was immediately piqued. ¡°He studies the Shadows?¡± he asked. ¡°Why haven¡¯t you mentioned him before?¡±


    ¡°Rapidian is a very private individual,¡± Horst explained. ¡°But he has promised to give you and the king a private audience, once all this is finished.¡± He nodded to the vast interior of the Citadel.


    ¡°And he thinks I¡¯m in danger, too?¡± Rhoden asked, searching his uncle¡¯s face.


    Horst drew in a deep breath. ¡°That is for him to decide,¡± he said. ¡°But I believe he has eliminated all immediate danger. You have nothing to fear, Nephew.¡±


    ¡°Except overbearing valets,¡± Rhoden muttered. He sighed. ¡°Very well. I suppose I shall have to be patient and act the prince.¡±


    ¡°Just be yourself,¡± said his uncle. ¡°They will accept you as you are.¡±


    ¡°I seriously doubt that,¡± said Rhoden under his breath, and his uncle chuckled.


    ¡°I believe Lem will have dinner waiting for us when we arrive,¡± said Horst after a moment, standing. He held out a hand to Rhoden, who took it and stood. For a moment, the two of them looked down at the hundreds and hundreds of chairs arrayed below. The Citadel hummed with the anticipation of the next day.


    ¡°Tomorrow, the world will have a new beginning,¡± Rhoden murmured. ¡°Aleria and Mesia at peace. My brother, married.¡±


    ¡°If all goes according to plan,¡± said Horst, nodding. ¡°Let us pray that it does.¡±


    After another long look at the citadel, watching as the afternoon sun shone through the stained glass, throwing color across the ground, Rhoden and Horst left for the carriage, which waited patiently for them.

 Chapter 5 - More Proud Pt. 2

    The morning of the wedding dawned bright and clear. Rhoden sat on the edge of his bed and contemplated the sunrise as it rose through the window. Again, he had slept poorly that night. His body ached with tiredness, but he could not sleep now that the sun had risen. So, he sat and watched in silence as the palace awoke slowly around him.


    The morning and early afternoon passed in a haze of servants and tailors making the final adjustments to Rhoden¡¯s clothing. When he could, Rhoden slipped away to Cael¡¯s chambers, which were even more crowded.


    ¡°Damn coat,¡± Cael muttered to Rhoden as he stood upon a pedestal. ¡°There¡¯s always something to fix.¡± An apologetic tailor crouched at his knees, pins in his mouth.


    ¡°Though, I¡¯ve heard my situation is not nearly as bad as Mira¡¯s,¡± Cael whispered. ¡°Something to do with the dress. Her mother has been furious.¡±


    Imagining the plump Lady Escallon in a rage gave Rhoden only a brief moment of laughter before Carlton appeared and escorted him away.


    Rhoden stood in his chambers and allowed his servants to dress him in the ceremonial robes of the occasion: a blue and silver suit and vest, with heeled boots and a short black cloak over one shoulder. They buckled a thin sword at his waist and a pendant around his neck, which depicted the Toradian raven with wings spread wide. Rhoden made certain that his knife was in the sleeve pocket. Though the tailors had raised their eyebrows at his request to include the pocket, still they had created it, and he was grateful. He wasn¡¯t sure whether the sword at his side would be of any use in his hands if something were to go wrong.


    He was about to depart when Carlton cleared his throat loudly.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you forgetting something, Your Highness?¡± he asked.


    Rhoden turned to find a wooden box on a nearby table and his heart gave a little skip. Carlton opened it to reveal a silver circlet, the band no wider than Rhoden¡¯s index finger, nestled in black velvet. There it lay, a symbol of his new life, encircling his hopes and his fears. He had never worn a crown before. There would be no going back after this.


    The valet removed the silver circlet gingerly, and placed it with steady hands onto Rhoden¡¯s head. Rhoden could barely feel the weight, but another was placed like granite bricks on his shoulders. He stared at the mirror, hardly comprehending that the young man who looked back out was himself. A prince, dressed in the best the royal tailors could make, looking far more confident than Rhoden felt. He straightened his shoulders. This was his life, now. He could not shirk away.


    <hr>


    When the wedding party arrived at the Citadel in its many open-topped carriages, they found that the square before the building was packed with people waving ribbons and cheering. Rhoden and his uncle dismounted from their carriage and made their way inside, following Cael and King Garazor, who waved at the crowd.


    Several Ennist priests met them at the door and led them to a small room at the side of the hall. Rhoden did his best not to stare at the equally large crowd within the Citadel. Every chair was filled, and the air rumbled with excited babble.


    Once inside the small room, which Rhoden assumed was one of the priest¡¯s private offices, Cael began to pace.


    ¡°Peace, Cael,¡± said Garazor, readjusting the cuff of one of his sleeves. The king was dressed in magnificent robes of blue, silver, and black. Cael¡¯s dark cloak brushed the floor and the embroidery shone on his lavish blue coat.


    ¡°I can¡¯t help it,¡± Cael moaned. ¡°I feel as though something terrible will happen.¡±


    ¡°Everything has been planned to the last detail,¡± said their father. ¡°And the Citadel is well-guarded. Nothing will happen.¡±


    ¡°Are we really making the right decision?¡± Cael asked, striding backwards and forwards. ¡°Making an alliance with the Mesians? They¡¯ve proven their disloyalty in the past. How do we know we can trust them now? What if this is an elaborate scheme at our expense? What if¡ª¡± Cael¡¯s face slackened. ¡°What if she does not come?¡±


    ¡°You both are bound by duty,¡± said Rhoden quietly. ¡°And she loves you, Cael. She will come.¡±


    Garazor smiled, and with a firm hand, stopped Cael from his pacing. ¡°It is not a weakness to doubt the loyalty of allies,¡± he said. ¡°There is wisdom is doubt, if only it does not lead to the mistrust of friends. Trust me, Cael. Mesia has every reason for wanting this alliance as much as we do. We have nothing to fear from them.¡±


    There came a knock at the door. Horst, who was nearby, opened it. Aras Rapidian stood, his face grim behind his round spectacles. Without a word to anyone else, or a greeting to the king, he stepped forward and whispered in Horst¡¯s ear. With each word, Horst grew more pale. When Rapidian had finished, Horst turned to face them. Rhoden was frightened to see the ill-disguised alarm there. He had never once seen his uncle afraid of anything.


    ¡°Forgive me,¡± Horst said. ¡°I must go.¡±


    ¡°What is it, Uncle?¡± Rhoden asked, but Horst had already disappeared, closing the door behind him with a thump.


    ¡°Leave him, Rhoden,¡± said Garazor sharply, as he made to follow.


    Rhoden stopped with his hand on the door handle. ¡°Something is wrong,¡± he said.


    ¡°Whatever it is, they can handle it.¡±


    Rhoden turned, matching Cael¡¯s worried look with his own. ¡°Aren¡¯t you concerned as to what it might be?¡± he asked.


    Garazor shook his head. ¡°They will handle it,¡± he repeated.


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°Trust me,¡± said Garazor, his face as hard-set as stone. ¡°There is no one more equipped to protect us from dangers than those two men.¡± Then, as Rhoden wondered about this, Garazor straightened and gave a smile. ¡°But come! This is not a time of fear, but of joy!¡± He clapped his hands on Cael¡¯s shoulders. ¡°A joining of two lives, and two nations. This is a glorious day, indeed!¡±


    Cael relaxed, his face splitting in a smile. He motioned for Rhoden to join them, and Rhoden left the door, feeling his father¡¯s hand land on his shoulder.


    ¡°You, my boys, are the future of the kingdom,¡± Garazor said, smiling upon each of them. ¡°I could not be more proud of the men you have become.¡±


    After Rhoden and Cael gave a murmured thanks, another knock came at the door, this time a priest announcing that the ceremony was to begin. With a final smile and squeeze of the hand, the three of them left the small room.


    From the opposite side of the Citadel, a similar door opened and the Mesian party emerged, King Sebastt leading Mira on his arm. Rhoden¡¯s breath caught. Her dress was white. His eyes darted to the front of the Citadel, where two long lines of priests stood: the Thalist priests in brown robes, and the Ennist priests in white. White was a sacred color, reserved for the church. Traditional wedding clothes were to be in the colors of the house; in the case of the Rennerik royal family, to which Mira belonged, these were blue, green, and red. The rest of her family, who trailed behind, even King Sebastt, were dressed in the appropriate colors. What on earth had they been thinking, to dress Mira in white?


    Her appearance caused a stir among the waiting crowd. Whispers followed her like the sound of rushing water. A few of the Ennist priests frowned at their Thalist counterparts, who ignored them with smug expressions on their faces.


    Something did go wrong, Rhoden thought as he walked. But not in the way we expected. This is a subtle jab at the Ennist Church.


    It was a move well-played. Clearly, the idea of the treaty did not sit well with some, or even all, of the Thalist priests. This was a way for them to express their frustration without saying it aloud: by offering Mira up as a proverbial hen to slaughter, to sacrifice her to embarrassment and the gossip of others.


    Problems with the dress, indeed, he thought.


    The two parties, led by the kings, made their ways around the sides of the Citadel until they came to the raised platform at the end of the room. As they had rehearsed the day before, everyone stood, arrayed out on either side of the High Priest. Mira and Cael stepped forward and clasped hands as the priest wound a long, thin cloth around them.


    Mira¡¯s face was scarlet. She seemed on the verge of tears, and bit her lip as Cael bent his head close to hers and whispered softly. Rhoden thought he knew what his brother was saying.


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    Keep your chin up. Ignore them, and what they say. They don¡¯t matter. You do. He had said similar words to Rhoden through the years, and they meant as much to him now as they had then. He knew how difficult it was to follow that advice. He felt his heart swell with love and pity as Mira finally nodded, gave Cael a watery smile, and the High Priest cleared his throat.


    ¡°Glory be to Ennis, on this wondrous day!¡± he called in a loud voice, which reverberated around the stone walls. ¡°And to his son, Renthalas, for his everlasting power!¡±


    The priest then began to quote scripture, telling his captive audience of the virtues of love and loyalty. He reminded them the reason they had gathered, and of the importance of the treaty.


    ¡°For,¡± said he, ¡°it is not only to celebrate the joining of two lives and two families into one, but also two nations, which have long been at war. Ennis has declared that all strife should be done away, and that all hearts join together in peace and love. It is what we come to celebrate today!¡±


    Rhoden listened with only half an ear to the High Priest as he droned on. He stood to the left of his father, and felt the space where his uncle would have stood on his other side as a lost limb. Where had he gone? Were they in danger?


    His eyes roved the dim room. Large candelabras had been lit, and the last rays of the dying sun pierced through the stained glass windows high above, scattering colored light on the crowd. Nearly the entire body of the King¡¯s Guard was present, lining the edges of the spacious room and the long aisle that had been left free down the middle. Rhoden looked over the mass of faces and a feeling of overwhelming anxiety settled over him like a shroud. How could he be a leader to these people? There were so many of them. So many things that could go wrong.


    Outside, he could hear the crowd cheering. Inside, each face was fixed attentively on the bride and groom, each ear listened to the words of the Ennist High Priest. Rhoden noticed movement out of the corner of his eyes and knew some of those faces were staring at him. He dismissed the irritation and embarrassment. This was a part of his life he was going to need to become accustomed to.


    The priest came to the end of his sermon, and another priest stepped forward, holding a wooden box in his hands. Rhoden immediately turned his attention to the front. From within the box, the High Priest drew a crystal the size of two fists. The Heartstone. It glittered dully in the light of the candles, veins of pink and orange tracing through it. Every eye was fixed on the stone as the priest held it aloft. The cheering outside grew louder.


    ¡°With the power vested in this stone, and the authority of Almighty God, I, High Priest Tallis of the Order of the Sun, do¡ª¡±


    He faltered, looking toward the doors at the opposite end. Heads turned. Cael and Mira followed the priest¡¯s gaze, uncertain what had caused the disturbance.


    Rhoden¡¯s breath caught. That wasn¡¯t cheering. Those were screams.


    Seconds later, the doors at the front of the Citadel burst open with a force so powerful the wood splintered. Four figures charged in, battling fiercely. Within the space of a heartbeat, Rhoden recognized three of them: Aras Rapidian, his uncle, and Derrick Soraldson. They had their swords drawn, facing the fourth. Dread thrummed within Rhoden like the howling of wolves.


    The fourth figure was impossibly, horrifically, terrifyingly wrong. Its humanoid shape was skeletal, its skin black as obsidian. Limbs twice the length they should have been gave it an advantage over its attackers as it dodged and slashed back, moving like a spider on four legs. It turned its face toward the end of the room, where Cael, Mira, and the High Priest stood, and stared at them with eyes as large as saucers and white as the moon. A mouth filled with teeth like needles snarled as the men around him stabbed and slashed. With a shriek that raised every hair on Rhoden¡¯s body, it began to advance forward.


    Screams erupted through the air. Guests scrambled backwards, throwing themselves off their chairs, crowding to the edges of the room. The King¡¯s Guards tried to force themselves through the mob, but were carried away with it, out through the doors and into the square beyond. Rapidian, Horst, and Derrick threw empty chairs aside, trying to keep pace with the creature, but it leapt easily out of the way, heading for the raised platform.


    The High Priest stared in horror at the beast, but did not move.


    ¡°With me!¡± Garazor shouted, releasing his cloak and drawing his sword. Rhoden found that he had drawn his as well. The blade shook in his hand. A handful of King¡¯s Guards heard the cry and rallied. The Thalist and Ennist priests were retreating as quickly as they could, bringing King Sebastt and Lord and Lady Escallon with them.


    The creature batted Horst and Rapidian aside, knocking them through a row of chairs. Derrick yelled and struck, but his sword seemed to glance off its skin, leaving it unharmed. It slashed its claws at him, then turned its hideous head to the High Priest, and the precious stone he held in his hands.


    Cael dragged Mira to the side just as the creature leapt forward, shrieking. Before anyone could react, the High Priest dropped to the ground, the front of his white robes, and his chest beneath, torn into shreds. The creature plucked the Heartstone from the bloodied ground, the crystal tiny in its hand. It eyed Cael and Mira, who were struggling to extricate themselves from the cloth binding their hands together. Mira screamed in fright.


    With a yell, Garazor charged forward. Half a dozen King¡¯s Guards joined him, and Rhoden found himself running at their sides. The guards lowered their spears and jabbed at the creature¡¯s back. It roared in anger, but the spearheads did not seem to make any mark on it. It turned and, holding one hand to its chest, slashed through the wooden shafts as though they were made of paper. The guards exclaimed and retreated, though not before the creature tore through a number of them.


    Garazor yelled in rage. Raising his sword, he beat the creature back until it was cornered against a stained glass window. Rhoden hovered at his side, hacking anything that moved with no regard at all for his training. A moment later, Cael was at his side, sword flashing in the light. His face was flushed and grim.


    ¡°We have to distract it!¡± he said. ¡°Draw it away from the people!¡±


    Both Garazor and Rhoden nodded, but at that moment, the skeletal beast, which had curled in on itself, let out a sound unlike anything Rhoden had heard. It was a shriek, but louder and more piercing than before. Rhoden gasped and his hand released his sword as he fell to the ground, spasming in pain. The shriek rose higher and higher in pitch and intensity, filling his body with a pain so terrible he couldn¡¯t breathe.


    When it ended, Rhoden found himself in a ball on the ground, blinking away the blackness at the edge of his vision. Raising a trembling hand, he pushed himself up and looked around, his head spinning.


    What he saw was more terrible than the pain he had just felt.


    Everyone who was left in the Citadel had also collapsed to the ground at the cry of the beast. Small lumps of bodies were beginning to stir.


    The creature stood, not far from where Rhoden had fallen. On two feet, and stretched to its full height, it was somehow even more horrifying and unnatural. One skeletal hand was clutched implacably around Cael¡¯s neck.


    Cael squirmed and thrashed, but he could not release the grip holding him. His feet were several inches off the ground. His face was purple and gasping. The creature looked at him with empty eyes and snarled.


    ¡°No!¡±


    Garazor stumbled to his feet, drawing a fallen sword from the ground. His eyes were wild and bright and his jaw was set. His crown had fallen from his head, but in that moment, he looked more like a king than than he ever had.


    ¡°You will not take my son from me!¡± Garazor shouted, and ran forward.


    The creature moved like lightning. With a casual flick of the arm, it flung Cael aside. Cael hurtled through the air and into one of the pillars with a crack that mingled with Mira¡¯s scream. He crumpled to the bottom in a motionless heap.


    Garazor struck the beast, but it batted his sword casually away. Its talons flashed in the air, and Garazor collapsed, holding his hands to his throat. Blood spurted between his fingers and from his chest. He fell backwards.


    ¡°No,¡± Rhoden whispered. Then, ¡°No!¡±


    He leapt to his feet, drawing the hidden knife from his jacket sleeve.


    ¡°Rhoden!¡± he heard someone call from somewhere behind him. ¡°Use silver!¡±


    Rhoden scanned the ground with feverish eyes. He found the silver circlet, which Carlton had placed on his head just hours before, lying by itself. He clutched it in his hand and advanced.


    The creature bent over Garazor, but Rhoden screamed, charging forward recklessly.


    ¡°No!¡± he screamed. ¡°Leave him alone!¡±


    Amazingly, the beast stopped and raised its head, tilting it curiously. When it noticed the silver in his hand, it backed away, hissing. Rhoden waved the crown before him, forcing the creature to retreat, until he was standing between it and his father.


    ¡°Leave here,¡± Rhoden commanded, hardly knowing if he was saying the words aloud or in his head. ¡°Never come back!¡±


    The creature bowed its head, clutching the Heartstone to its chest, and backed away. With one final blow, it shattered a window, scattering colored glass across the ground, and climbed through into the night.


    Rhoden stood, his breath and body shaking uncontrollably. There was a moment of utter silence, then he remembered. Dropping his knife and circlet with a clatter, he turned and knelt at his father¡¯s side.


    Garazor¡¯s eyes were wide as his hands scrabbled at his throat. Already, there was a pool of blood gathering beneath him. His breaths were gurgling gasps.


    ¡°Help,¡± Rhoden half-whispered. ¡°Help.¡±


    He heard other shouts, but could not understand them. A flash of white in his peripheral told him that Mira had run past to tend to Cael. With hands that trembled so violently he could hardly undo the clasp, Rhoden removed his cloak and pressed it to his father¡¯s chest. Four long gouges ran across him lengthwise, exposing bone, intestines.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be all right,¡± he told his father, holding the cloak in place even as tears ran down his face. ¡°We¡¯ll call the physicians. We¡¯ll get you to the palace. You¡¯ll be all right.¡±


    Even as he said the words, he knew it was a lie.


    He felt a slight pressure on his arm and looked to see one of Garazor¡¯s hands there. Between bloodstained fingers was a fine chain, on which hung a small key. His eyes begged him to take it. Rhoden unwound the necklace and placed it gently into a side pocket.


    ¡°What is it for?¡± he asked.


    Garazor¡¯s mouth moved soundlessly, and Rhoden bent forward to hear.


    ¡°Forgive me,¡± Garazor breathed. ¡°Forgive me, Rhoden.¡±


    ¡°I¡ªI do,¡± Rhoden stammered. ¡°Of course I do.¡±


    But as he drew his head back, he found Garazor¡¯s eyes sightless and staring. The hand that gripped Rhoden¡¯s arm dropped to the ground and Rhoden was left staring at the husk of a man he had only just started to know.


    He sat, empty-eyed, as Mira¡¯s cries echoed around the empty Citadel and the darkness fell around them like very shrouds of hell.

 Chapter 6 - Not to Blame Pt. 1

    ¡°Mira, Dear Heart, we must go.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s breathing. He must have only been knocked unconscious. We have to get him to the palace! The physicians can¡ª¡±


    ¡°Mira, we must go now.¡±


    She felt herself being dragged away and resisted, tears clouding her eyes. Cael lay crumpled at the bottom of the pillar, hardly moving except for the barely perceptible rise and fall of his chest. Blood matted his golden hair.


    ¡°No, no!¡± she cried. ¡°I can¡¯t leave him! I won¡¯t¡ª¡±


    Her father hauled her to her feet and held her tightly by the shoulders. ¡°Listen to me,¡± he said, his voice low and urgent. ¡°Dear Heart, we are in terrible danger. King Garazor is dead.¡±


    Mira blinked at him, uncomprehending. ¡°Dead?¡±


    ¡°The Alerians will blame us,¡± Lord Escallon said. ¡°We need to leave, before any retaliation can be made. There is a carriage outside.¡±


    Mira allowed herself to be led a few tottering steps away, her mind a fog.


    ¡°Wait,¡± she whispered, and turned to look back to where Cael lay. ¡°I can¡¯t leave him.¡±


    ¡°You must,¡± her father hissed. ¡°Quickly, now. Before they notice.¡±


    He dragged her away, and her heart, already bleeding, broke anew.


    <hr>


    The Citadel was a mass of chaos¡ªoverturned chairs, broken glass, and upended candelabras littered the ground. The dead and dying lay all around. People still pushed for the exits, unaware that the danger had passed.Cries and screams echoed around the curved walls.


    Mira¡¯s father threw his cloak over her and kept a firm arm around her shoulders as they walked. Her eyes were fixed on the skirts of her wedding dress. There were stains of dark blood there. Cael¡¯s blood.


    She tried to understand what had happened, the creature that had attacked, but her thoughts ran slowly, as though they hid behind a dam. King Garazor, dead? And Cael injured; how badly, she could only imagine. Would he live? Tears welled in her eyes again. Would she ever see him again?


    In her mind¡¯s eye, she saw the huge, empty white eyes, the flashing talons of the beast. Beneath her father¡¯s arm, she shuddered. She saw Cael flying through the air, heard the crack as he hit the pillar. And then, what had happened next?


    It came sharply to her mind. Rhoden, standing before the creature, speaking words she had not understood. And it had obeyed him.


    The implication sunk deep within her. She clutched at her father¡¯s coat.


    ¡°He spoke to it,¡± she whispered. ¡°Prince Rhoden.¡±


    ¡°I know. I heard.¡±


    ¡°Do you think¡ªcould he have¡ª¡±


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    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± her father said, his jaw a hard line. ¡°I just don¡¯t know, Dear Heart.¡±


    They pushed themselves through the crowd, finally exiting the Citadel into the cool night beyond. Outside was an equally distressing scene. People ran in every direction, looking for shelter. Women clutched their children to their chests, and several bodies lay in the cobblestoned square, surrounded by mourners. Screams and shouts filled the night air.


    ¡°The King is dead!¡±


    ¡°Prince Caellamar, too!¡±


    He¡¯s not dead! Mira wanted to yell. He was breathing! He¡ªhe can¡¯t be¡ª


    Her father steered her to the right, where they skirted the edge of the Citadel and began walking around the perimeter of the large square before it, keeping to the shadows. Long lines of carriages waited to take the nobility back to the palace. The horses danced uneasily. Some lords and ladies had taken refuge in the carriages, either staring out with frightened faces or demanding the drivers to depart. In the middle of the square, Mira could see hundreds of torches and lanterns held aloft. Dark shapes moved in the night.


    ¡°The Mesians are to blame!¡± someone in the crowd shouted. ¡°Faithless traitors!¡±


    A group of dark-robed Thalist priests were attempting to take control of one of the waiting carriages. Someone in the crowd spotted them. Mira gasped as the crowd surged forward and grabbed the priests, dragging them, screaming, into the midst.


    ¡°Death to the Mesians!¡± came the cry, and the mob roared.


    ¡°Keep your head down!¡± her father whispered. Mira drew the hood of the cloak more tightly over her head. She prayed to God, to Renthalas, to anyone who would listen, that no one would see her voluminous white skirts that her father¡¯s cloak only barely covered.


    ¡°This way.¡±


    Mira and her father ran down a street, then turned into an alleyway. A dark carriage waited at the end, the driver¡¯s seat empty. When Mira opened the door, it was to find the terrified faces of King Sebastt, her mother, sisters, and a couple of Thalist priests.


    ¡°Otus!¡± Lady Escallon whimpered. ¡°Oh, thank God.¡±


    ¡°The Alerians will pay for this!¡± King Sebastt hissed.


    ¡°The Alerians are not to blame,¡± Mira¡¯s father said quietly. ¡°Quickly, Mira¡ª¡±


    ¡°Otus! Where is Biani?¡±


    Mira froze with her foot on the step. She looked at her father, whose face was pale in the darkness.


    ¡°I thought she was with you,¡± he said.


    Lady Escallon¡¯s face was stricken. ¡°My God!¡± she cried. ¡°She must still be inside!¡±


    Knives like ice shards forced their way into Mira¡¯s heart. Her youngest sister was barely eight years old. She looked back in the direction of the Citadel. Over the rooftops, the dome glowed orange in the night.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go back,¡± said Lord Escallon. ¡°She¡¯s a smart girl. She¡¯s probably just hiding.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m coming with you,¡± said Mira, lowering her foot to the ground.


    ¡°Absolutely not,¡± her mother snapped. ¡°Get in the carriage, Mira.¡±


    Mira stepped away from the open door.


    Her father frowned at her. ¡°It¡¯s too dangerous.¡±


    ¡°There is a mob,¡± Mira reminded him. ¡°We are all in danger as long as we are in Torran. I¡¯m coming. We¡¯ll be faster if there are two of us.¡±


    ¡°What if you are caught?¡± Lady Escallon whispered.


    King Sebastt stirred. ¡°I¡¯ll not risk my life for that of one of your daughters, Escallon. Get us out of here.¡±


    Mira glared at him, furious at his disregard. Her father straightened his shoulders.


    ¡°You,¡± he said, pointing to one of the Thalist priests. ¡°Drive the carriage to the bottom of the town. Find a place to hide, and wait for us a quarter of an hour.¡± He looked at Mira, his shadowed face serious. ¡°If we do not return in that time, leave without us.¡±


    Mira¡¯s mother and sisters protested as he shut the door and Mira tried not to hear them. They would be reunited. But it was imperative they found Biani first. The Thalist priest climbed into the driver¡¯s seat, whipped the reigns, and the carriage trundled into the dark.


    With a shared look, Mira and her father headed back towards the Citadel.

 Chapter 6 - Not to Blame Pt. 2

    The square before the Citadel was burning. Mira had no idea what caused the blaze, but it lit the night with hellish flames. Tongues of fire licked at the air as though they would devour it. The mob that had filled the square was gone. Yells came from inside the Citadel.


    Mira and her father hesitated in the shadows of a shop front. The carriages were all but gone. A few stragglers mingled in the square.


    ¡°If the mob is inside, how will we enter?¡± Mira asked. ¡°They¡¯ll notice us immediately.¡±


    ¡°We can try one of the side entrances and pray that they do not.¡±


    Moving quickly, they made their way back towards the now broken doors of the Citadel. Mira noticed with a shiver that not a few bodies still remained on the cobblestones, whether the victims of the beast or the mob, it was impossible to tell. The firelight cast deep shadows over the square.


    They were a street away when a voice rang out.


    ¡°Who goes there?¡± a man called. ¡°Friend or foe?¡±


    ¡°Friends, I can assure you,¡± said Mira¡¯s father, though he kept his face in shadow. Mira pulled the hood of the cloak more securely around her face.


    ¡°Unless you aim to help us, leave,¡± the man said, coming closer. In the darkness, his features were impossible to make out. But Mira saw with a stab of fear that he carried the outline of a rifle gun. A member of the City Guard?


    ¡°Please,¡± said Lord Escallon. ¡°My daughter is missing. We believe she might be within the Citadel. If we could just look¡ª¡±


    ¡°I said leave,¡± said the man roughly. He gestured with the barrel of his rifle. ¡°There¡¯s no one inside. Be off with you.¡± His eyes, barely pinpricks of light, flicked to Mira. Her heart pounded. ¡°Wait,¡± the man called as Mira and her father turned away. ¡°Remove your hood, wench.¡±


    Trembling, Mira lowered the hood. The man took a step backwards and lowered the rifle.


    ¡°Mesians! Over here! I have them¡ª¡±


    Mira¡¯s father rushed at the man, tackling him just as the gun went off. Together they struggled on the ground, but the man was larger. He rolled on top of her father, punching. Mira tried to wrestle the gun away from him, but he pushed her aside, knocking her to the ground.


    Another man appeared out of the darkness to join the fray. Mira cried out in alarm and scrambled to her feet, but suddenly the man with the gun lay on the ground, unmoving. Her father half-lay nearby, panting. The third man stood back.


    Mira rushed forward to her father, who gathered her in his arms.


    ¡°Thank you, sir,¡± he said to the stranger.


    ¡°They will have heard that,¡± the stranger said. ¡°We must leave before they come.¡±


    Lord Escallon nodded. He pushed himself into a sitting position, then gasped in pain.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Mira asked, alarmed.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ve been shot,¡± Lord Escallon said, examining his side. Mira could see dark blood spilling there.


    ¡°We need to go,¡± the stranger said urgently. Dark shadows were moving in the doorway to the Citadel.


    ¡°He¡¯s wounded!¡± Mira snapped. ¡°We can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s only a graze. I can walk,¡± Mira¡¯s father assured her. He looked to the stranger. ¡°My youngest daughter is missing,¡± he said. ¡°We think she¡¯s inside the Citadel.¡±


    The stranger turned to the great domed building, and in the light of the fire, Mira could see him more clearly. Tall and handsome, with auburn hair and beard, his eyes were like embers.


    ¡°This way,¡± he said, and supporting Lord Escallon, they all ducked into a dark alley.


    The stranger led them through alleys and across streets, a winding path that took them ever farther from the cries behind them and ever closer to the rear of the Citadel. Mira¡¯s father kept a hand pressed to his side, and Mira watched him anxiously. His breathing seemed to be more ragged with every step. Mira could see the walls of the Citadel when he collapsed.


    ¡°I¡¯m all right,¡± he gasped as they propped him against the front of a building. ¡°I just¡ªneed to rest¡ª¡±


    The red-haired stranger knelt, and using a knife ripped open the side of Lord Escallon¡¯s coat. Even in the darkness, Mira could tell that the wound was much worse than he had made them believe. He grit his teeth and leaned his head against the stone, closing his eyes. Working silently, the stranger pulled bandages from a pouch at his waist and began wrapping them over the wound.


    ¡°Do you have a carriage waiting?¡± he asked quietly.


    ¡°In the lower town,¡± Mira said. ¡°We were going to find my sister and return, but¡­¡± She looked at her father. ¡°He can¡¯t go any farther. He¡¯ll never make it in time.¡±


    ¡°We must find her,¡± Lord Escallon whispered. ¡°We must find Biani.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no time,¡± she said, her voice breaking. ¡°We need to find the carriage and leave. You need medical help.¡±


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    ¡°Lord Escallon,¡± said the stranger. ¡°Mira is right. You cannot remain here. If the Alerians find you, they will use you as a pawn.¡±


    ¡°Biani will be that pawn,¡± Mira¡¯s father rasped. ¡°I cannot leave her to that fate.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll stay,¡± Mira said abruptly. Both men turned to her.


    ¡°No,¡± said Lord Escallon. ¡°They¡¯ll do the same to you what they would do to me.¡±


    ¡°I am more valuable than you,¡± she said, realizing it was true. ¡°If I stay, it will be a sign of faith. I can prove to the Alerians that Mesia is not responsible for the attack tonight. But you must also convince King Sebastt that Aleria is innocent in this. In the meantime, we¡¯ll find a way to expose who was behind it, and we¡¯ll re-establish the treaty.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± her father protested. ¡°Mira, it¡¯s far too dangerous. You can¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t leave Biani,¡± Mira said. ¡°And¡ª¡± She hesitated. ¡°I can¡¯t leave Cael. He needs me, Father. I¡¯m fearful to leave him alone. With¡­him.¡±


    Her father raised a hand and touched her face with cold hands. ¡°Another test, Dear Heart?¡±


    Mira swallowed down tears. ¡°Yes. Another test.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take your father to the meeting place,¡± said the stranger. He lifted her father to his feet. ¡°God willing, we will reach them in time.¡± He looked mournfully at Mira. ¡°Good luck.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll find her,¡± Mira said, grasping her father¡¯s shaking hand. ¡°I¡¯ll bring her home.¡±


    She watched as they moved awkwardly down the street. Silently, she prayed that they would make it safely, that her father would be all right. Then, she turned and headed in the direction of the high Citadel walls.


    <hr>


    The inside of the Citadel was dim. The candelabras, which had so gloriously shone an hour before, had either been extinguished or burned out. Mira walked carefully down the central aisle of the Citadel, choosing her steps carefully. Priests and servants moved about, straightening chairs and tending to the dead. On the raised platform at the end of the building, where Mira had stood and clasped hands with Cael, there appeared to be some kind of stand off.


    The mob still carried torches and lanterns. They faced the platform, on which stood a handful of figures: a couple men Mira recognized as being important Alerian lords, two Ennist priests, and Prince Rhoden. A company of navy-uniformed King¡¯s Guards surrounded them, their spears and rifles pointed outward.


    ¡°Hand him over!¡± a man in the crowd shouted. ¡°He¡¯s not worth your protection.¡±


    ¡°Think about what you are saying,¡± one of the lords retorted. ¡°Prince Rhoden is now the only surviving heir to the throne. You are threatening your king.¡±


    ¡°He is no king of ours!¡±


    ¡°Murderer!¡±


    ¡°Just moments ago you punished the Mesians for the attack,¡± said one of the Ennist priests, a tall man with caramel hair. ¡°Now you place your blame on our prince. You are tired and frightened. You should return to your homes. No more blood need be spilt tonight.¡±


    Mira walked until she was directly behind the mob. Moving quietly, she pushed herself through them. She had shed her father¡¯s cloak in the entryway. She was no long trying to hide.


    The crowd, realizing who she was, began to part for her. She fully expected to be seized, but when no one did, she walked more confidently. She knew what they saw: her bedraggled appearance, the blood on her dress.


    When she reached the front, she met eyes with a tall bearded man, whom she presumed was the leader of the mob. He looked disdainfully at her, but in the presence of the priests, and with the King¡¯s Guards¡¯ barrels pointing at him, he said nothing.


    ¡°Lady Miriandri,¡± said the lord who had spoken before. He was gray-haired and long-nosed and Mira remembered him to be Lord Crasmere, High Chamberlain of the Council of Lords. His face betrayed his shock.


    ¡°We thought you had fled,¡± Lord Crasmere said. ¡°With the riots¡ª¡±


    ¡°I had,¡± said Mira, stepping through the line of guards. She turned and faced the crowd. ¡°I returned, because I realized that I could not leave my people. Leaving would betray what I believe to be true, and it would only cause more speculation. Mesia is not responsible for tonight¡¯s vicious attack.¡±


    Murmurs ran through the crowd. The bearded man at the front spoke.


    ¡°Oh? And who is?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not certain,¡± said Mira. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a couple of cloth-covered bodies and did her best to ignore them. ¡°But I promise you as your future queen that we will discover who did this. We will find them and they will suffer for what they have done.¡± Her voice broke.


    The sandy-haired Ennist priest stepped forward. ¡°Go in peace,¡± he said, raising a hand over the crowd. ¡°Ennis will protect us all tonight. The danger has passed. Tomorrow, we will face this new era of our nation.¡±


    Grumbling, muttering, the mob dispersed. It wasn¡¯t until the last torch had vanished into the night that Mira took a great shuddering gasp and sank to the floor.


    ¡°My Lady!¡± said Lord Crasmere, moving forward. ¡°Are you all right?¡±


    ¡°I think, my Lord, that the lady is merely overtired from the night¡¯s events,¡± said the Ennist priest. ¡°Perhaps it would be best that we all adjourn to the palace for now?¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± said Lord Crasmere. ¡°Can you stand, my Lady?¡±


    Mira took one look at the cloth-covered corpses nearby and collapsed again.


    ¡°Prince Cael,¡± she said, her head bowed. ¡°He is dead?¡±


    ¡°The physicians took him to the palace half an hour ago,¡± Lord Crasmere said. ¡°We have not heard news.¡±


    Mira nodded, not daring to raise her hopes.


    ¡°The sooner we return, the sooner we will know,¡± he added, extending his hand.


    ¡°My sister,¡± Mira whispered as the elderly man helped her to her feet. ¡°She¡¯s only eight. Did you find her?¡±


    The Ennist priest, who stood nearby, tilted his head. ¡°Ah, yes,¡± he said. ¡°One moment.¡± He walked to a door in the wall. Once it opened, he spoke softly into the room beyond and Biani emerged, holding his hand. Mira¡¯s heart, which had been heavy with the possibility that she would not be there, lifted with relief and joy and immense sadness.


    As soon as she saw Mira, Biani released the priest¡¯s hand and ran to her, her eyes red with tears. Mira caught her little body in a tight embrace, crying with her.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Mira said again and again. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Beanie.¡±


    ¡°I want to go home,¡± Biani whimpered into her chest.


    ¡°I know. I know.¡±


    When, finally, they stood, they found Lord Crasmere had waited for them. He gestured to the side. Mira was about to follow when she saw Prince Rhoden. The dark-skinned young man stood a few paces before them with his head bowed and shoulders slumped. He raised his head to watch them leave, and Mira met his gaze. She could see pain there, and confusion, but her own anger eclipsed that. As she passed, holding Biani¡¯s shaking form next to her, she spat out in venom, ¡°Stay away from us.¡±


    Had she lingered just a moment, she would have seen the pain these words inflicted. Darkness drew around Prince Rhoden, and he melted into the shadows of the night.

 Chapter 7 - Long Live the King Pt. 1

    Rhoden rode in silence back to the palace, staring sightlessly at his hands. He was barely aware of the shouts and screams around him, of the torches in the night, of his uncle sitting beside him. On the canvas of his mind flashed endless, repeating images and sounds.


    He saw the creature, horribly long-limbed and black as pitch. He saw it open its mouth, heard its terrible, shrieking cry.


    No! Leave them alone!


    He saw Cael tumble through the air, felt his father¡¯s open chest beneath his hands.


    Forgive me, Rhoden.


    Of¡ªof course.


    Mira¡¯s face floated to the surface, her beauty twisted in loathing. He saw her younger sister¡¯s terrified eyes and heard her shuddering sobs.


    Stay away from us.


    The images repeated, rolling through his head to the rhythm of the wheels. He could not stop them and did not try to. As they grew stronger and faster, a single thought came to the forefront of his consciousness: It¡¯s my fault. All my fault.


    He should have planned for such an eventuality. He should have considered all the options. Self-loathing coursed through his body like poison. He hadn¡¯t had the skill to save them. If he had focused more on training with the sword rather than burying his head in books, perhaps he could have beaten the creature back. Perhaps his father and Cael wouldn¡¯t be¡­


    No. He couldn¡¯t entertain that thought. It was too terrible.


    The carriage rattled into the courtyard of the palace. Within was a scene of hurried commotion, despite the late hour¡ªservants and nobility alike bustled around long lines of carriages, rushing into the palace, or arguing loudly with the drivers to take them away.


    Rhoden¡¯s carriage stopped and he felt his uncle¡¯s firm hand at his shoulder. Without looking at anyone or anything, he dismounted. The courtyard fell into a deathly silence that pierced through his own thoughts. He could feel every gaze like a blinding light, and knew their thoughts.


    King Garazor is dead. Prince Caellamar is dead.


    It¡¯s all my fault.


    His stomach clenched as a squadron of guards drew around and escorted him and his uncle inside. They walked quickly down corridors blazing with light. The air was full of delicious smells: roasting meats, fragrant pies, delicate desserts. The wedding feast, now abandoned. Rhoden¡¯s stomach growled softly, but he barely felt it.


    They continued through the palace, leaving the more busy corridors and entering a wing that seemed almost abandoned. Rhoden realized vaguely that they were near the state rooms, where official business was conducted and where the Council of Lords met. Why were they here? All he wanted was to go to his own chambers, to sink into the oblivion of sleep. Though, he admitted to himself, he was unsure whether he would ever sleep again.


    Horst led the group into a small chamber, leaving guards at the door and positioning more inside. There was a single chair before an empty fire grate. The guards lit a few candles as Rhoden sank into the chair and stared into the darkened fireplace. His uncle¡¯s voice rumbled somewhere above him.


    ¡°Wait here.¡±


    Rhoden nodded dumbly. He had no intention of ever leaving this chair. There was a mumble of conversation, then Horst left the room, his footsteps disappearing down the corridor.


    It was some time before Rhoden became aware of the dried blood on his hands. He stared at it, then tried rubbing them on his trousers. Some of the blood flaked away, but Rhoden noticed similar stains on his clothing, dark and damning. He remembered hands¡ªhis hands¡ªpressing a cloak to his father¡¯s chest. This was his father¡¯s blood.


    Suddenly, there was nothing more important than to rid himself of it. He stood quickly and walked to the door, but the guards who stood there blocked his way.


    Rhoden clenched his fists.


    ¡°Let me pass,¡± he growled.


    The guards shuffled uncomfortably. ¡°Your Majesty,¡± said one, a stout man with a heavy brow. ¡°Lord Bellenan gave us strict orders. You are to remain here.¡±


    ¡°I wish to leave.¡±


    ¡°Those are our orders, my liege.¡±


    Rhoden glared at them. ¡°Fine,¡± he snapped. He made to return to his chair when a thought occurred to him.


    ¡°Summon my valet,¡± he ordered. ¡°I would speak with him.¡±


    Carlton arrived shortly, and after Rhoden had given his demands, returned with a basin of steaming water and a change of clothing. Rhoden washed and changed behind a folding screen, shedding the blood-stained clothes with immense relief. The valet¡¯s usual sour look remained as he aided Rhoden, but he was silent of any sarcastic remark, for which Rhoden was grateful.


    Though he was tired and suddenly ravenous, a small burden lifted off his shoulders and he felt refreshed from the change. For a moment, he could almost forget the terrible things that had just happened, or, at the very least, push them aside. Carlton brought a small portion of the wedding feast for him, and he ate quickly and quietly.


    As he was finishing, the door opened and his uncle appeared.


    ¡°Ah, you¡¯ve eaten. Good.¡± He waved a hand. ¡°Leave us,¡± he ordered, and both the guards and Carlton bowed and exited the room.


    Rhoden set aside his platter and looked intently at his uncle.


    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± he asked, standing. ¡°Is Cael all right?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll live, for the moment,¡± said Horst. His normally stoic face was haggard. ¡°But there is something else, something more important, which requires your absolute attention.¡± He sighed. ¡°The Council of Lords has assembled and we must attend.¡±


    Rhoden¡¯s stomach, filled with food, grew queasy. ¡°Now?¡± he asked.


    Horst nodded. ¡°Speed is of the essence. The Council must decide what is to be done in the absence of a king.¡±


    Rhoden tried not to see his father¡¯s bloodstained body beneath his hands, but the image flashed across his mind like lightning. Once again, he could not comprehend the truth: the king, his father, was dead. That meant someone else must take his place. And Cael was, in all possibility, dying. If he was unable to assume the throne, the only other alternative was Rhoden himself.


    His mind shied away from that thought. No, it could not be possible. He was not ready. He was not prepared. How could one possibly prepare for something like this?


    His uncle looked at him with pity.


    ¡°I know what I must ask of you will not be easy,¡± he said. ¡°But it is imperative that you attend, Nephew. Do you have the strength to do so?¡±


    Rhoden clenched and unclenched his hands, taking in deep breaths. Did he? He had a feeling he knew what was going to be decided at this meeting, and nothing good would come of it. And he was so tired. His mind was a hazy fog that swirled with confusion, irritation, anger, and grief. He tried to sort through it all.


    The lords would not support him. They never had, so why would they now? Perhaps they would even blame the attack of that terrible beast on him. They would not accept him as their king.


    The only acceptable outcome, then, was that Cael survived whatever injuries he had sustained. That was the only way their kingdom would continue.


    But if he did not¡­


    Rhoden knew he had one option: to act like a prince in the presence of the Council, even if they blamed him, even if they hated him. It was the first¡ªand, in all possibility, the last¡ªservice he could offer as royalty.


    It will require a great deal of sacrifice, whispered his father¡¯s voice. The price for being royal.


    Despite his exhaustion, despite his doubts and the feeling of doom that grew with each passing moment, Rhoden knew that what the people of Aleria needed right now was strength. His strength. He had no plans, no preparations, nothing to help him in this, but he knew it all the same.


    Squaring his shoulders, he met his uncle¡¯s eyes and nodded firmly.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°Let¡¯s greet them.¡±


    <hr>


    The room was full of the chatter of voices, which died immediately upon Rhoden and Horst¡¯s arrival. In the tense silence, all eyes watched as the two men walked around the long table and took their seats. The head of the table was empty, the ornate carved chair a reminder of what they had so recently lost. Rhoden sat in a seat directly to the right of the empty chair. His uncle sat next to him.


    Across the table, an aging man with a long nose stood.


    ¡°Welcome, Prince Rhoden, Lord Bellenan,¡± said Lord High Chamberlain Crasmere. ¡°Thank you for coming in this dark hour.¡±


    Rhoden glanced around the table. He recognized Lord Hestran immediately, sitting far away to his right. He had been learning the names of the lords over the past couple of weeks and did his best to match the name to the face: Astrall, Larcasane, Ignatus, Ferrin, Redes, and Wallrick. A body of three white-robed Ennist priests sat at the opposite end of the table, where another empty chair stood, reserved for the high priest. With a pang, Rhoden realized that the priest who had officiated the wedding must have died as well.


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    Three faces surprised him. Issa Roth and Croftin Meran sat across the table and nodded when his eyes met theirs. Sitting on the other side of his uncle was Aras Rapidian, who was cleaning his glasses with a cloth. Everyone appeared as tense as Rhoden felt.


    Lord Crasmere cleared his throat. ¡°In the absence of our king, I call this meeting to order,¡± he said in a voice that shook slightly. He cleared his throat again. ¡°We welcome those who have joined us, in absence of their fathers¡ª¡± He gestured to Issa and Croftin. ¡°¡ªand other honored guests.¡± He nodded to Aras Rapidian.


    Then, he turned to the table at large. ¡°We are in dangerous circumstances. After the vicious attack tonight at the Citadel, Aleria finds itself lacking both a king and a high priest. The treaty, which we had long prepared for, is ruined. The Mesians have fled¡ªas to where they have gone, we can only assume they are on their way back to their homeland.¡±


    ¡°Traitors!¡± someone spat. ¡°They are clearly responsible for our loss.¡±


    Lord Crasmere frowned. ¡°It is the duty of this Council to make judgements based on facts, not opinion, Lord Larcasane.¡±


    ¡°If I may,¡± said a priest from the other end of the table, and Rhoden recognized him with a start. This was the sandy-haired priest who had been at Lord Hestran¡¯s manor and had denied him access to the Chronicles. Rhoden was also fairly certain that he had been the one to turn the mob away in the Citadel just hours ago. A whispered query to his uncle told him the priest¡¯s name was Brother Lamb, second in the Ennist Church only to the High Priest.


    Lord Crasmere gave his assent, and Brother Lamb spoke. ¡°A few Mesians have remained behind to show their commitment to the treaty,¡± he said, looking earnestly around the table. ¡°Several Thalist priests and a handful of high-ranking Mesian officials are currently in the custody of the Church. Most notably, the Lady Miriandri Escallon has decided to stay at the palace. She wishes to continue the negotiations of the treaty and is adamant that the attack tonight was through no fault of her people.¡±


    ¡°She could not have been privy to every conversation in her great-uncle¡¯s court,¡± Lord Ferrin pointed out. ¡°There could have been a plot about which she was not aware.¡±


    ¡°We should have expected this,¡± Lord Ignatus said, scowling. ¡°This kind of betrayal is typical of Mesians. They are all the same¡ªfaithless heretics.¡±


    ¡°I can assure you,¡± came a quiet voice, and Rhoden saw that it was Rapidian who spoke. He surveyed the table with his bespectacled eyes. ¡°This attack did not come from Mesia.¡±


    Silence fell, several faces looked questioningly at him, but Rapidian did not elaborate. Lord Crasmere spread his hands, drawing attention back to him. ¡°Whether or not Mesia was responsible for this crime, the Council must come to a decision. Prince Caellamar is grievously wounded and the physicians are unsure if he will recover. In this critical time, we need leadership and direction. We must decide on an heir to fill the throne and what we should do about the treaty¡ªif anything.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± came the nasal drawl of Lord Hestran. All eyes turned to him, and he looked around the table in mock outrage. His eyes were tiny in his large, bald head. ¡°Am I to understand,¡± he said, ¡°that we will not address the more important question¡ªindeed, the question that is on every mind of every person in this Council?¡±


    ¡°And what is that?¡± Lord Crasmere asked politely.


    ¡°What, in all the Endless Hells, was that thing?¡±


    He did not need to explain further. Rhoden saw in his mind, as he was certain everyone else did as well, the terrifying beast that had appeared in the Citadel; its horrible long limbs and dead eyes, the flashing claws and needle teeth.


    ¡°It is called a Seranach,¡± said Rapidian. Once again, every eye shifted to him. His spectacles flashed in the candlelight. ¡°A terror from the ancient days.¡±


    ¡°And who are you, who know so much about it?¡± Lord Hestran demanded. Rhoden held his breath, wanting desperately to know the same.


    ¡°I am Aras Rapidian,¡± said Rapidian, meeting Hestran¡¯s suspicious gaze cooly. ¡°I have been hunting the Seranach for several months, now.¡±


    The room was silent. Finally, Lord Crasmere said, ¡°Aras Rapidian, would you please elaborate? How is it that you know of this beast?¡±


    ¡°I have made it my life¡¯s work to study them,¡± said Rapidian. ¡°I am a scholar, of a sort. I study what you call the Shadows¡ªthe Dryr, as they were once known. They controlled fearful beasts called Seranach, who did their bidding. The Seranach were mindless creatures, forced to obey the will of the one controlling them.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of such beasts,¡± said Brother Lamb. To Rhoden¡¯s surprise, the priest leaned forward eagerly. ¡°I was under the impression that they and the Shadows were one and the same.¡±


    ¡°A detail lost by time and those who wished to bury the truth,¡± Rapidian murmured, and Brother Lamb ducked his head, his cheeks flushed. Rhoden did not wonder at this. Brother Lamb was an Ennist priest. It was the Ennist Church, which¡ªwhether out of fear or anger or spite, it was impossible to know¡ªhad initiated the Great Purge, during which thousands and thousands of documents from the past had been destroyed.


    Rhoden once again turned his attention to Rapidian and tempered his amazement. Already, he had learned more about the Shadows from this man than years of studying had taught him.


    ¡°You said you have been hunting this beast,¡± said Lord Crasmere, his long face politely skeptical. ¡°If it posed such a great threat, why was the king or the Council not made aware of this danger? We could have taken action to prevent what happened.¡±


    ¡°It was your king¡¯s desire that my search remain a secret,¡± said Rapidian, and this drew dark looks and muttered suspicions from the men around the table. Rapidian ignored them and continued, ¡°Unfortunately, this decision cost him his life. Perhaps, had you known, this tragedy could have been avoided. Then again, perhaps not.¡±


    ¡°I have difficulty believing you,¡± said Lord Hestran, tapping a ring-studded finger on the table. ¡°Why would Garazor have kept this from us? And why would he trust you?¡±


    ¡°A fair question,¡± Lord Ferrin agreed, nodding.


    Rapidian straightened himself. ¡°It is a delicate matter,¡± he said. ¡°And, before I explain, I must be absolutely certain. If you will allow me a moment¡ª¡±


    Then, strangely, he looked at each person around the table, holding their gaze for several seconds. Rhoden remembered how he had felt under Rapidian¡¯s gaze the first time he had met the man, how he felt he had been examined, weighed, and judged. He imagined that the same was happened to the men around the table. The lords shifted uncomfortably in their chairs and an awkward silence filled the room. Issa Roth looked as though she might faint. Lord Crasmere frowned, but did not interrupt. When Rapidian finished, each person seemed wrung out, confused, and embarrassed.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Rapidian said, and his face was grim.


    ¡°Why was that necessary?¡± Brother Lamb asked.


    ¡°I had to be certain that the one I am hunting was not here,¡± said Rapidian.


    ¡°The beast?¡± exclaimed Lord Redes, a stout man with a large mustache. ¡°It isn¡¯t here, surely?¡±


    ¡°Of course not,¡± said Rapidian. ¡°Its master has commanded it, and already it is far away. It cannot harm you.¡±


    ¡°Then why this¡­examination?¡± Lord Hestran asked sourly.


    ¡°I had to be certain that the master of the Seranach was not in this room.¡±


    There was a breathless pause.


    ¡°And?¡± Lord Hestran demanded.


    Rapidian waited a moment before his reply. Once again, he swept his eyes around the room. ¡°No,¡± he said finally. ¡°He is not here.¡±


    Rhoden felt a collective sigh run through the room and a small knot untied itself within him, though he did not quite understand the relief he felt. Rapidian adjusted his glasses.


    ¡°I said I was hunting the Seranach,¡± he explained, ¡°though that is only partially true. I am hunting both the beast and its master. As I explained before, in the past, the Dryr¡ªthe Shadows, that is¡ªcontrolled the Seranach. It is the same today. There is never one without the other. To find the master and stop the beast is imperative.¡±


    ¡°Pardon,¡± said Lord Crasmere, his long face full of concern. ¡°But you speak as though the Shadows were not lost in the past.¡±


    Rapidian nodded and for the first time looked down the table to where Rhoden was sitting. ¡°In our present company, I believe we can all agree this is the case,¡± he said.


    Several eyes flicked to Rhoden and away again. His face flushed hot at the sudden attention.


    ¡°If there were other Shadows in our midst, we would know,¡± said Brother Lamb. ¡°There are ways of telling these things. Old rituals and safeguards.¡±


    ¡°I wish that were true. The one I am hunting is extremely cunning and dangerous. He can easily bypass your safeguards, because despite the enthusiasm and zeal of the Ennist Church, they are practically worthless.¡±


    Brother Lamb nodded his head in thought, though his eyebrows drew together in a worried frown. ¡°Then, virtue truly has left us,¡± he murmured quietly, almost to himself. One of the other Ennist priests placed a comforting hand on his arm. Despite what he had experienced at Lord Hestran¡¯s manor, and the role Brother Lamb had played, Rhoden felt a stab of sympathy for the young man. He did not seem to press the religious agenda of the Ennist Church, as most priests did, and was honest and sincere. Rhoden decided in that moment that this was a man he wanted to have on his side.


    Rapidian continued.


    ¡°Rituals and safeguards notwithstanding, this Dryr has proven to be a formidable opponent. Among other things, he has the ability to change his appearance at will. He can change the color of his skin, the shape of his face, and look like anyone in the world, if he so desired. He could be anyone in the court, or in this room.¡±


    Though Rhoden¡¯s brain was overtired from the night¡¯s events, a memory flashed through his mind of the morning, some weeks ago, when he had sparred with Cael and Derrick Soraldson. He had told the story of the proud and foolish thief who could change his face. It was an old tale he had found in a dusty volume of children¡¯s stories in the Tellegar College library. From what Rapidian was saying, and if his words could be believed, it seemed there was some truth to it.


    ¡°So the Shadow¡ªthe Dryr¡ªcould be anyone,¡± Lord Crasmere said.


    Rapidian nodded. ¡°That is why my task is so difficult.¡±


    ¡°And are we to ignore the obvious?¡±Lord Hestran said, waving a pudgy hand at Rhoden. ¡°You are looking for a Shadow who controls the creature. You need look no further than this room. How do we know our own beloved prince isn¡¯t complicit in this?¡±


    Rhoden¡¯s face burned and he opened his mouth to protest, but his uncle spoke first.


    ¡°Speak that way about my nephew again, Erastus,¡± growled Horst, ¡°and your servants will carry you out of here on a stretcher.¡±


    Lord Hestran¡¯s face grew beet-red at the threat. Undaunted, however, he tried a different tactic and jabbed a thick finger at Rapidian.


    ¡°You know far too much about this whole business. And you are a stranger to us. How can we trust anything you say? How do we know you aren¡¯t the master you claim to be searching for?¡±


    Several other lords around the table nodded in agreement. Rapidian exchanged a meaningful look with Rhoden¡¯s uncle. Horst sighed, his beard twitching.


    ¡°Get on with it,¡± he muttered. ¡°It¡¯s time they knew.¡±


    With deft hands, Rapidian drew a medallion from beneath his tunic. It was about the size of a coin and glinted silver in the light. Rhoden could not make out the markings on it, but Brother Lamb, who could see it clearly, suddenly gasped.


    ¡°You are a Brother of the Dawn,¡± he said in an awestruck voice.


    ¡°I am,¡± said Rapidian simply. He raised his right sleeve and revealed a dark tattoo that had been stamped on his inner arm near the elbow: a single line through a circle, the top half of which was filled with smaller lines, radiating outward from a center point. A sunrise.


    ¡°I am a High Master of the Order of the Brethren,¡± said Rapidian, lowering his sleeve and resting the medallion so that it was in full view on his chest. Then, he nodded to the side. ¡°Horst Bellenan is my squire.¡±


    It took a moment for Rhoden to realize that his uncle had also bared his arm, and that the same tattoo was stamped there near his elbow. He looked at him in amazement, wanting to demand an explanation as to why his uncle had never mentioned this before, but Horst stubbornly would not meet his eye.


    ¡°We were taught that all the Brethren perished during the Great Schism,¡± said Brother Lamb. The other Ennist priests nodded.


    ¡°There was only one who survived,¡± Rapidian said softly. ¡°Since that day, our numbers remain very small.¡±


    ¡°Who or what are the Brethren of the Dawn?¡± Croftin Meran asked, looking around the table. ¡°I have never before heard of them.¡±


    ¡°They were once a very powerful religious order within the Ennist Church,¡± Brother Lamb explained. He seemed torn between excitement, awe, and fear. ¡°It was said that they aided the Sun King in his conquest against the Shadows.¡±


    The lords looked at Rapidian and Horst with a cautious but newfound respect. Even Lord Hestran, whose beady eyes continued to rove the table suspiciously, seemed to accept this new information without complaint.


    ¡°Our forerunners did many marvelous things,¡± said Rapidian. ¡°It is our duty now to protect mankind from the threat the Dryr present. That is why I¡ªwhy we¡ªhave been hunting. That is why I know about the Dryr and the Seranach.¡± He nodded respectfully to Lord Crasmere, then to Rhoden. ¡°And, with your permission, Prince Rhoden, we will continue our search. It is imperative that we begin tonight, while the trail is still fresh.¡±

 Chapter 7 - Long Live the King Pt. 2

    Rhoden was a little taken aback at the direct request. It was a moment before he replied.


    ¡°Of - of course,¡± he stammered. ¡°We understand that this is a continuing threat. It should be resolved as quickly as possible.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you agree,¡± said Rapidian with a tight smile. ¡°We will leave as soon as matters are resolved here.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all very well,¡± said Lord Wallrick, an old, slow man. ¡°But what I do not understand is this: what did they hope to gain by this attack? Why kill Garazor and Tallis? Forgive me, Master Rapidian, but despite your explanation, it does still seem to point to the Mesians. With our king out of the way, and no treaty to hold them, they will come for us.¡±


    ¡°And that creature took the Heartstone with it when it disappeared,¡± Lord Larcasane said, nodding. ¡°We¡¯ve all known how desperately the Thalist priests have wanted their hands on that.¡±


    ¡°I understand your doubts,¡± said Rapidian, clasping his hands together on the tabletop. ¡°But Mesia is not behind this attack. We will find the Seranach and its master. We will return the Heartstone to you. When we do, both you and the people of Mesia will know that neither side was to blame.¡±


    ¡°What do you intend to do, once you have caught the beast?¡± Issa Roth asked.


    Rapidian eyed her. ¡°I will carry out the duty of the Brethren,¡± he said. ¡°They will be judged for their crimes and face the ensuing punishment. Balance will once again be restored.¡±


    ¡°And, again, you are certain that Prince Rhoden has nothing to do with this?¡± Lord Hestran said.


    Rapidian met Lord Hestran¡¯s eyes with a look of cool impatience.


    ¡°You have nothing to fear from Prince Rhoden,¡± he said quietly. ¡°As long as I live, that I can promise.¡±


    Rhoden felt a surge of gratitude for the man, though he hardly knew him. A practical stranger was willing to stand for him more than anyone, aside from his uncle, ever had. He had a sudden desire that this meeting would end and he could ask the man all of his unasked questions. He had a feeling that Rapidian was not telling all the truth.


    Hestran, however, was unconvinced. He huffed, ¡°And we¡¯re meant to take your word for it? That our prince isn¡¯t some blasphemous monstrosity from the past, who controlled the tool to kill his father?¡±


    Horst made a move at Rhoden¡¯s side, but Rapidian caught his arm and forced him back down.


    ¡°No,¡± he murmured. Then, he turned to face Brother Lamb.


    ¡°Priest brother,¡± he said, his voice calm. ¡°It seems the good lord is unwilling to listen to me, but perhaps he will to you. At the very least, as a priest of God, you possess an authority he can respect.¡±


    Brother Lamb sat a little straighter. ¡°What can I do for you, Master Brother?¡± he asked humbly.


    ¡°You are familiar, I assume, with the Ceremony of Absolution?


    The priest¡¯s eyebrows rose in surprise. ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°Would you describe it to us?¡±


    ¡°The Ceremony of Absolution is an ancient ritual from the days of the Sun King,¡± said Brother Lamb, speaking firmly. ¡°Its primary function is to dispel the evil spirits in the hearts of men. We use it in the initiation of all our priests.¡±


    Rhoden found himself listening carefully, as did all the members of the table. Rapidian motioned for Brother Lamb to continue.


    ¡°What, exactly, does the ceremony entail? What takes place?¡±


    ¡°We use the two materials closest to Ennis in their purity¡ªsalt and silver¡ªto cleanse the soul. Simply put, the priest is given a bath of salt water, then is tested with a knife of silver. If any evil is within in the man, it will be revealed.¡±


    Rapidian adjusted his glasses. ¡°And is it true that this ceremony could be given to anyone, regardless of whether they were a priest or not?¡±


    Brother Lamb turned to the priests at his side. After a minute of whispered conversation, he straightened.


    ¡°The ceremony was often performed in ancient times,¡± he said. ¡°It is unusual to do so now, but¡ª¡± He paused. ¡°Yes. It could be done.¡±


    As Rhoden knew he would, Rapidian then turned to face him. In the light of the candles, his glasses were almost opaque. Rhoden¡¯s stomach fluttered nervously.


    ¡°Prince Rhoden,¡± Rapidian said. ¡°Your lords accuse you of executing the attack tonight. Would you agree to undergo the Ceremony of Absolution, so as to erase all further doubt in their minds?¡±


    Rhoden met the eyes of his uncle for the first time, and Horst nodded curtly. Exhaustion nagged at his mind. He wanted to sleep, he wanted for this meeting to be done with, but there seemed no way around Hestran¡¯s suspicions but this.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said.


    ¡°Then we will perform it directly,¡± said Brother Lamb, standing. ¡°A brief recess, I think, so that we may gather the materials needed.¡±


    Lord Crasmere nodded. ¡°We will adjourn momentarily and return in half an hour.¡±


    Rhoden remained in his seat as the lords stood and stretched, muttering to one another. Inside, his heart raced. A test of purity. Though he was not overly religious and had never given much thought to rituals or spiritual energy, he wondered. If the Ceremony of Absolution was to clear him of evil, would he be found clean? He knew he was guiltless in the attack from tonight, but he was still clearly a Shadow. Something had happened, after all, to make him appear this way. What if whatever that had been had made him evil, like the Shadow who had controlled the terrifying beast? Rhoden was grateful for Rapidian¡¯s confidence in him, but he had no idea what conclusions the ceremony would bring.


    <hr>


    A half hour later, the ceremony was ready. The Ennist priests brought a basin of steaming water, and a silver knife on a cushion of scarlet velvet. Brother Lamb called Lord Astrall, who at that point had said nothing, to test the water. Lord Astrall did so, nodding mutely to Lord Hestran that it was, indeed, saturated with salt.


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    Rhoden sat on a plain chair, a little away from the grand table. As the entire Council watched, the priests bathed Rhoden¡¯s head, hands, and feet in the water, drying him as they went so as not to ruin his clothing. Rhoden tensed at first, but as he realized that the water was only warm and did not burn as he had expected, he relaxed slightly. He even attempted to give Issa, who looked very concerned for him, a reassuring smile.


    After the bath, Brother Lamb took up the silver knife. With a swift movement, he sliced it across Rhoden¡¯s left palm. Rhoden clenched his jaw tightly, but there was very little pain. The cut was shallow and immediately began to bleed freely. Brother Lamb smiled kindly at him as he dabbed a handkerchief in the blood, then bound his hand, completing the ceremony.


    ¡°Praise be to Ennis!¡± he said, turning to the Council and holding the bloodstained fabric in front of him. ¡°God has judged this man and found him clean.¡± He turned to Lord Hestran. ¡°Let this be a sign to you that the Broken One has no control over Prince Rhoden¡¯s heart. He is clean.¡±


    Lord Hestran, amazingly, bowed his head, but did not speak.


    Rhoden felt his heart lift toward the skies. To know that he was clean, that there was no part of him that was evil, or like the Shadows of old, was to relieve himself of a heavy burden he had not known he carried with him. Because he appeared like the Shadows, everyone assumed he was one, and he had believed it. There was a part of him that had always assumed he would end up like them; completely controlled by evil. But knowing there was no connection to the ancient Shadows and their dark works was like breathing fresh air for the first time, like seeing a new sun rise over the mountains.


    Rapidian must have taken Hestran¡¯s silence for an answer, for he spoke.


    ¡°I believe, High Chamberlain, that this Council must come to a decision tonight.¡±


    Lord Crasmere stirred. ¡°I must thank you, Lord Rapidian, Brother Lamb,¡± he said. ¡°You have helped us turn an impossible situation into a bearable one.¡± He looked down at a small stack of papers in his hands.


    ¡°We must make a decision, my lords, and I trust we will make the right one. We know now that the attack was not from Mesia, but a third source. We know that Prince Rhoden had nothing to do with it, and that he has been cleansed from evil. For the people of the kingdom, that will be a great relief.


    ¡°We are without a king, and we must choose a new one. Prince Caellamar cannot step into the position for which he was prepared. We do not know whether he will be the same again and we cannot wait to find out. King Garazor had no brothers. His wife¡¯s family has no claim to the throne, and though Lord Bellenan is of the proper age I doubt the people would accept him.¡± He looked apologetically at Horst, who stared stoically back.


    Lord Crasmere turned to Rhoden, his long face grave and solemn. ¡°It stands to reason, then, that the throne be given to the only other member of the Toradian family.


    ¡°My lords,¡± he said. ¡°Do you accept Rhoden Toradian as your king?¡±


    There was silence.


    ¡°I do,¡± said Brother Lamb.


    Lord Redes raised his hand. ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°And I,¡± said Lord Ferrin.


    Slowly, every lord around the table gave their assent, looking slightly stunned, but determined. Even Lord Hestran gave a muttered answer to the affirmative. Rhoden felt blood rush to his head.


    ¡°Very well,¡± said Lord Crasmere. ¡°Prince Rhoden, your father¡¯s burial will be tomorrow. Your crowning will not take place until twenty-seven days after, as per tradition. Until that time, you will be king in name only.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± said Rhoden, trying to sound confident. His heart pounded in his chest. He was unsure whether his knees would hold him if he stood.


    Brother Lamb ordered the other priests to take away the pieces of the ceremony, carrying the knife himself. ¡°If you will excuse us, we must determine the next High Priest,¡± he said, and though he smiled at Rhoden, it was tired. ¡°The Church will not be without leadership in this dark time.¡± He bowed to Rhoden. ¡°It is an honor, Your Highness, to serve you. This is a black night, but Aleria¡¯s future is bright!¡±


    Then, he left, and the Council was adjourned.


    <hr>


    ¡°I have to go, Nephew,¡± Horst said gruffly to Rhoden twenty minutes later. ¡°Time is of the essence. We cannot delay any longer.¡±


    They were together in Rhoden¡¯s chambers, having finally retired for the night. Rhoden allowed Carlton to finish dressing him for bed, then dismissed the man with a nod. The valet left, and Rhoden turned to his uncle.


    ¡°I know you must go,¡± he said softly. ¡°I don¡¯t want you to.¡±


    ¡°Rapidian trusts me more than anyone to find the Seranach,¡± said Horst. ¡°He is weary from his hunt, and the fight tonight. It took more out of him than he would ever admit. Additionally, he believes that though the beast has fled, the Dryr master may still be here. Hiding. He needs to be close by to detect its presence.¡±


    Rhoden nodded. He walked to a table and poured himself a glass of water. He stared at the liquid, at the light of the fire reflected in it.


    ¡°There is so much,¡± he whispered. ¡°So much you never told me, Uncle. About the Brethren of the Dawn, and the Dryr, and the Seranach.¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t have believed me.¡±


    ¡°I would.¡±


    Horst sighed. ¡°Perhaps I should have told you more,¡± he admitted. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t change what must happen now. Rapidian has elected to remain behind and stay by your side. He¡¯ll be able to answer your questions about the Dryr. He knows more about them than I do.¡±


    Rhoden twisted the glass in his hands. ¡°You¡¯ll be traveling alone?¡±


    Horst shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ll be taking that swords master with me, Derrick Soraldson.¡±


    Rhoden was surprised at this, then remembered how the young man had been present in the fight against the Seranach in the Citadel.


    ¡°We thought he had deserted his post,¡± he said. ¡°Was that a ruse?¡±


    ¡°He was about to leave, but your father got to him first,¡± Horst said. ¡°There was something about the Mesians that made Derrick want to leave, though I understand he himself is a Mesian¡ª¡± He broke off, shaking his head. ¡°Whatever the reason, Garazor knew his skills and wanted to continue to use them. He refused to take his resignation, so they came to an agreement. Garazor had a feeling something would happen, and so he stationed Derrick to keep his eyes open for anything suspicious, while keeping himself hidden. It was Derrick who alerted us to the presence of the Seranach when it first appeared in Torran.¡±


    Rhoden thought on this, then swirled his glass, watching the water spin. ¡°He will be a good companion for you, I¡¯m sure,¡± he said quietly.


    There was silence for a moment, then Rhoden heard Horst¡¯s footsteps approach him. A moment later, his uncle had grabbed his arms tightly. The glass of water shook in Rhoden¡¯s hand.


    ¡°As soon as we find it, we will return,¡± Horst said fiercely. His eyes blazed. ¡°But even then, I will not be your crutch, Nephew. You have not needed me for many years now.¡±


    Rhoden felt stinging tears in his eyes. ¡°How¡­long?¡± he said in a choking voice.


    ¡°No tears!¡± his uncle said brusquely. ¡°This is the time for you to be strong, when everything around you is crumbling to the dust. You must show them, Rhoden. You must show them how strong you can be, and they will follow you.¡±


    Despite his uncle¡¯s order, Rhoden felt several tears trickle down his face. ¡°How can I do this without you?¡± he asked. ¡°Cael is gone. My father is gone. How can I be strong when you¡¯re leaving me, too?¡±


    ¡°Cael isn¡¯t gone yet,¡± said Horst. ¡°There¡¯s a spirit in your brother that will fight to the very end, I can sense it. You watch over him, now. Make him comfortable. And when he wakes, when¡ª¡± he repeated, shaking Rhoden, ¡°you show him what a magnificent job you¡¯ve done of it all.¡±


    He pulled Rhoden into a crushing hug, not caring that Rhoden¡¯s glass of water spilled down his back. He was still wearing his robes from the wedding, and Rhoden breathed in the scent of them, a mixture of smoke, sweat, and perfumed oil. His uncle¡¯s smell¡ªone he had come to know through all their years together in Tellegar.


    Horst stepped back. ¡°I may not be around to say it,¡± he said, then bowed low. ¡°Long live the king.¡±


    A lump lodged in Rhoden¡¯s throat. He could say nothing as his uncle gathered his cloak, gave Rhoden one last thundering look, and left the room.


    ¡°Long live the king,¡± he whispered as his uncle¡¯s footsteps faded away.

 Entracte - To Grieve

    The masked dancers moved across a marble floor, and darkness was in their eyes. It was the darkness that comes when the moon refuses to shine, when the candles are blown out and nothing else remains. Blue and white lights sparkled above, but their light could not penetrate beneath the masks. The holes remained, sightless, endless. Black.


    Rhoden turned away from the dancers, away from the music and the movement. He could not dance tonight. At the edge of the marble floor, he took a path that led through a garden of dark trees, twinkling with secret lights. He wandered aimlessly, not seeing the shrubs at his feet, not seeing the dark shapes of the buildings beyond.


    A voice stopped him. Familiar. Comforting.


    ¡°You have suffered a terrible loss,¡± said the king. ¡°I do not wonder that you have found your way here to my garden.¡±


    Rhoden looked up to see the king standing before him, his robes full of silver light.


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    ¡°Have you lost anyone?¡± Rhoden asked. ¡°People dear to you?¡±


    ¡°More than you can count in a lifetime.¡±


    ¡°Then¡ªhow do you go on?¡± Rhoden whispered. ¡°How do you have strength when everything that made you strong is gone?¡±


    The king stepped forward, placed a hand on Rhoden¡¯s shoulder. Rhoden looked into his eyes and saw hope there.


    ¡°You find a new strength,¡± said the king.


    Rhoden drew from the solidity of the king¡¯s hand, his firm grip on his shoulder. A new strength. Yes, he could do that.


    But, here in his dreams he did not need strength. Here, he was not, and never would be, king.


    ¡°I barely knew him,¡± Rhoden whispered, anguish overtaking him in a rush. ¡°I barely knew my father, and now he¡¯s gone.¡±


    ¡°Then you must learn to grieve.¡±


    Stepping forward, the king of the dancers drew Rhoden into a tight embrace. And Rhoden felt the bands that had drawn around his chest break as though they were make of thin glass. He bent his head into the king¡¯s shoulder and wept.

 Chapter 8 - What Could Have Been Pt. 1

    The day of the funeral was blanketed with thick, dark clouds, blotting out every ray of sun. A fine spring rain fell on Torran, but that did not deter the people from thronging the streets. They stood in massive, silent rows, holding umbrellas and cloaks over their heads, watching with water-stained eyes as the procession¡ªwhich, just hours before had promised hope and celebration¡ªmoved somberly along.


    Rhoden walked behind the wagon carrying the casket of his father. Flowers that had been arranged for the wedding now adorned the polished wood and wilted beneath the rain. He kept his eyes fixed firmly ahead, not daring to dwell on any one face. He was certain the emotion he felt would not be contained if he stopped to see another¡¯s grief.


    He had barely slept the night before, and could not stand the sight that had greeted him soon after he had awakened: his father¡¯s body, washed and dressed and laid out on a table in one of the state rooms. The servants had withdrawn to allow Rhoden time to grieve. He had not known what to do or what to say.


    Garazor¡¯s face was stern, even in death. Rhoden had stared at it, hoping desperately that he would open his eyes again, smile once more. He had so many questions that would now never be answered. He remembered the teachings of the Ennist priests, pieces of sermons he had heard over the years. He knew his father was bound for the Eternal Halls, to rest peacefully in Ithelinum with God and his angels and there to reunite with his long-dead wife and children. But that knowledge gave Rhoden little comfort now. His father was gone, and had left Rhoden to struggle by himself. There would be no rest for him.


    Behind the grand wagon that carried the body of the king was another wagon, equally grand, which held the body of High Priest Tallis, who had perished first in the battle against the Seranach. A long procession of priests in white robes followed, murmuring prayers and songs. Several other wagons, smaller and less-adorned, came in the rear, carrying the bodies of men and guards who had died fighting the beast. Their families shuffled behind, weeping silently in the cold, indifferent air.


    Although Rhoden did not meet the eyes of the people, he felt their gaze like a freezing chill. The same fears and accusations that had gripped the lords of the Council the night before were surely in their minds, and Rhoden did not blame them. What other logical explanation was there? A terrifying beast from legend appears and could only have been connected to the mysterious prince with skin like coal. And now, with the king dead and Prince Cael¡¯s fate uncertain, they were left in the hands of the man they feared most of all.


    Rhoden kept his shoulders squared and his head high. Strength, he told himself with every step. Show them strength. Any sign of weakness will only feed their doubts.


    At the bottom of the town, the procession split¡ªthe king and the High Priest turned and went back through the streets toward the Citadel; the other dead continued out of the town, toward the common burial grounds. Large groups of people followed each, paying their respects the only way they knew how.


    Once at the Citadel, Rhoden sat with the rest and watched as the two bodies were brought forward and listened as the newly-appointed High Priest Orrus spoke about life and death and change and loss. The garlands and ribbons of the day before had been replaced hastily with black banners. The broken stained glass window through which the beast had escaped leered like an open mouth behind the two coffins, sinister and dark.


    High Priest Orrus, a tall man with features flat and sharp, like they had been carved from stone, then announced to the mourning crowd that after the appropriate time, Prince Rhoden was to take his father¡¯s place on the throne. He had been found clean before God by the Ennist priests and was supported by the lords of the Council. Hidden in the flowering words and somber tone, Rhoden heard an unspoken message echo throughout the vast cathedral, carried on the faces of the people who filled the hall: We do not want you here.


    Rhoden suffered in silence through the ceremony, then through the internment of High Priest Tallis¡¯ body. He was the first to lead the body of his father back out into the rain and through the streets until they reached the palace. There, in the royal mausoleum, in a tomb that lay only a few feet away from Queen Thenara¡¯s, a squadron of the King¡¯s Guard lowered King Garazor to his final resting place. High Priest Orrus spoke a few solemn scriptures over the tomb, and then the stone slab was laid on top and the masons moved forward to seal it. With every scrape of their small knives, Rhoden felt as though they buried his heart along with the body of his father.


    The ceremony complete, the lords of the Council and their families moved past him, murmuring sympathies as they left. Rhoden saw Mira nearby, looking at the tomb with bloodshot eyes. Her little sister clung to her skirts and said not a word, her round face white and sad. When she noticed that he stared, Mira took her sister¡¯s hand in her own and left immediately.


    All of the lords and servants and priests had departed, but Rhoden remained at the tombs, left with only the guards and the sound of rain for company. The mausoleum was dedicated to the many kings and queens who had come before, and housed their countless remains. In the centuries Aleria had stood, the white-stoned building had been added upon, room upon room, branch upon branch, so that now it was the size of several houses and extended even underground. Tombs, both lavish and plain, were around every corner, on every wall.


    Rhoden stood and heard the rain through the open windows and looked at the tombs of his parents. To the left, his mother. To the right, his father. There was additional space to the side, for another tomb to stand, someday. And, hidden in a corner of the room, built into the wall, were four small plaques. Rhoden had read them many times. Three princes and a princess. The children who never had been. Here they all were, his entire family, save one. Turning to dust under the cold stone.


    A feeling of immense loneliness swept over him. With all of the emotion from the past days, it was hardly surprising, but the loneliness crushed him in its intensity. It did not matter what Horst had told him the night before. Standing here, surrounded by a family he either had barely known or, because of the cruel fingers of fate had never met, he felt totally, utterly, completely alone.


    Cael is not gone, came a small voice in his head, but that was little consolation to his grief. In the midst of everything¡ªthe Council meeting, the wake, the funeral¡ªRhoden had not yet taken the time to see his brother. He did not know if what little strength he had scraped together would survive the encounter. Cael was the strongest person he knew, aside from their uncle. He needed to remember his brother¡¯s strength and use it. He could not bear to see him brought so low. It was as though his brother had already died. Perhaps Rhoden¡¯s mind would change in a day or two, and he would see that Cael was not as injured as he believed, but for now, he mourned for Cael as he mourned his parents and unknown siblings.


    After some time, echoing footsteps approached. Rhoden composed himself quickly, dampening his emotions. He looked and found to his surprise that Croftin Meran was walking down the corridor at a casual pace, pausing here and there to read a marker on a tomb. Although he did not want to speak to anyone, Rhoden knew he could no longer afford himself that luxury. He motioned for Croftin to come closer.


    ¡°Forgive me,¡± said Croftin, bowing low. His dark curling hair fell in front of his face. ¡°I did not want to disturb you in your grief, your Highness.¡±


    ¡°You do not disturb me,¡± said Rhoden. In truth, he was grateful for the distraction.


    Croftin drew closer, his handsome face somber. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll agree that grief is a beautiful and terrible sword, double-edged. We mourn for those who are lost, and yet if we let it, it can consume everything.¡±


    ¡°Well-spoken,¡± Rhoden said. Then, turning from the tombs, he asked. ¡°What can I do for you, Lord Meran?¡±


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    Croftin spread his hands. ¡°I¡¯m not here to ask a favor,¡± he said, giving a kind smile. ¡°I come on behalf of one whom I love and who cares for you deeply. Issa is concerned for you. In truth, we both are.¡±


    Rhoden did not know what to say to this, and so said nothing. Croftin shuffled his feet.


    ¡°I know Issa was raised here at the palace, and that you once had a connection. She would like to rekindle that friendship, if it is agreeable to you. We¡¯ve both suffered loss recently¡ªor, in Issa¡¯s case, she is preparing for it¡ªand we feel we could offer some comfort.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d no idea Lord Roth¡¯s condition was so grave,¡± Rhoden said, feeling a rush of sympathy for Issa. ¡°I knew he had not attended the wedding, but as I am so rarely here in Aleria, I did not know the extent.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, it is terrible,¡± said Croftin solemnly. ¡°We expect he has months, perhaps less.¡±


    ¡°I shall pray for him,¡± Rhoden murmured. ¡°What, if I may ask, was your loss?¡±


    ¡°My mother, some months ago.¡±


    ¡°My condolences.¡±


    Croftin bowed his head. ¡°It was a difficult loss, to be sure,¡± he said. ¡°My father and I took it equally hard. Though he decided to travel the world rather than take his responsibilities in hand.¡± A tone of disdain entered the young man¡¯s voice. Then, his face softened. ¡°Forgive me, you do not need to know all of my griefs. You also lost your mother, did you not?¡±


    Rhoden looked briefly at Queen Thenara¡¯s grave. ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°But I was very young. I have very few memories of her.¡±


    ¡°You must cherish them,¡± said Croftin. He looked at the graves, laying side by side. ¡°King Garazor was a mighty man,¡± he said. ¡°He will be missed, by you most especially, I wager.¡±


    ¡°I barely knew him,¡± Rhoden said, his eyes once again landing on his father¡¯s name, chiseled into the marble. ¡°We had a¡­complicated relationship.¡±


    ¡°Sometimes those losses are the ones most keenly felt,¡± said Croftin, his voice growing softer and deeper. ¡°For not only do we mourn their absence, but also what could have been, and wasn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Rhoden whispered, realizing it was true.


    For a long moment, they stood side by side, gazing at the tombs. Rhoden thought how strange it was to stand next to the young man¡ªabout whom he knew so little and who had claimed Issa as his own¡ªbut to feel no jealousy or malice. Perhaps it was because his own emotions had become a muddle mess, rather like wet paper mashed into a pulp, but Rhoden was comforted by Croftin¡¯s words. He seemed honest and sincere, and such men were difficult to find.


    ¡°In truth,¡± he said, breaking the silence, ¡°I would welcome a friendship. I have very little of that, now. It seems everyone I once held dear has vanished.¡± He gave a half-smile, as though this were a joke.


    Croftin, however, did not return the smile. Looking gravely at Rhoden, he clasped his arm. ¡°Then let this be a new beginning, and begin again to fill that void,¡± he said. ¡°Issa and I stand at your command, Prince Rhoden. We will be remaining in the palace until your crowning, and perhaps after. If ever you need any thing, you will let us know?¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Rhoden, the words sticking in his throat. The kindness Croftin shared, though entirely unlooked for, came surging through his soul like warm sunshine.


    ¡°I hear you are often in the library,¡± said Croftin, releasing Rhoden¡¯s arm. ¡°I trust I¡¯ll see you there tomorrow? After lunchtime?¡±


    ¡°I look forward to it,¡± said Rhoden. And, despite his exhaustion and grief, he smiled.


    <hr>


    Rhoden left the mausoleum shortly thereafter, gathering a host of King¡¯s Guards and servants around him as he went. The brief ray of sun that had shone on him through his conversation with Croftin warmed him and he felt as though some part of the burden of grief had lifted. His body, though, told a different story. He was so tired that his legs threatened to buckle beneath him, and his knees trembled. Despite it being only late afternoon, he gave orders to the steward to have the cook bring his meal to his chambers, there to retire after this endless day. He had no desire to speak with anyone else, unless absolutely necessary.


    He had entered the main hall of the palace and was about to climb to his rooms when someone hailed him. Brother Lamb stood at the foot of the grand staircase, tall and friendly-faced. He bowed when Rhoden approached.


    ¡°I did not know whether you would come this way or not,¡± he said, smiling. ¡°I am glad you did so that I could speak with you. Though we have interacted many times, we have not yet had the pleasure of introductions. I am Brother Erron Lamb.¡±


    Sighing inwardly, Rhoden murmured a greeting. There would be no escaping this conversation.


    ¡°I know you must be exhausted from the day¡¯s events, your Highness, so I will be brief,¡± Brother Lamb said, his face growing grim. ¡°But I felt it urgent to tell you immediately.¡±


    ¡°Tell me what?¡± Rhoden asked, curiosity and trepidation roused within him. His exhaustion was promptly forgotten.


    ¡°A little privacy, perhaps?¡± Brother Lamb said, and together the two of them drew apart from Rhoden¡¯s flock of guards and servants. Once some distance away, the priest spoke, keeping his voice low.


    ¡°I realize this is very soon after such a terrible loss,¡± he said. ¡°And I have no desire to disturb the grief you must be feeling, but I decided you would want to know. It concerns your father, Prince Rhoden.¡±


    ¡°What about him?¡± Rhoden asked, his heartbeat quickening.


    ¡°Some time ago, you came to Lord Hestran requesting Dorican¡¯s Chronicles of him,¡± said Brother Lamb.


    Rhoden felt his throat constrict. ¡°I remember.¡±


    ¡°King Garazor, when he learned of what had happened, took the matter into his own hands. He went to my superior, High Priest Tallis, and demanded an exception be made in your case. He argued quite fiercely,¡± Brother Lamb said, and a twinkle was in his eye. ¡°Even threatened to stop royal funding to the Church.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± said Rhoden softly.


    ¡°Old Tallis was afraid of him, of course, but I saw his threats for what they truly were. King Garazor would never have gone through with them. He was just showing his love for his son. Those statues regarding the information in the Chronicles were outdated¡ªI knew that even as I pronounced the judgment, but I followed them regardless, to my shame. I am sorry for the way you were treated that day.¡±


    Rhoden nodded, unable to speak.


    ¡°Lord Hestran received the brunt of your father¡¯s anger,¡± Brother Lamb went on. ¡°He was forced to pay reparations to the crown, a rather large sum, if I am to understand correctly. And your father ordered him to hand the Chronicles over to the Church. To me.¡±


    Rhoden¡¯s heart thundered in his chest. It was little wonder, then, why Hestran had been so openly hostile towards him last night. But instead of feeling victorious, Rhoden had a sense of dread creep up his back as he looked on the young priest¡¯s solemn face.


    ¡°I was to give the books to you on the night of the wedding,¡± said Brother Lamb sadly. ¡°Last night, or this morning at the very latest. But after everything¡ª¡± He broke off, sighing, and met Rhoden¡¯s eyes. ¡°I am afraid, your Highness, that I have nothing to give you. Lord Hestran returned to me this morning and demanded the Chronicles be returned to him. They were only to be given on temporary loan, and unfortunately the amount of time that was to have been was never specified in writing. I could not refuse him.¡± He bowed his head. ¡°I am deeply sorry, my Lord. I know how much you wanted them.¡±


    Rhoden told him in soft words that he understood and that the priest was not to blame for Lord Hestran¡¯s decisions. Brother Lamb once again bowed, telling Rhoden that he remained at his disposal, and that the Ennist Church stood to support him wholeheartedly.


    Rhoden entered his chambers with a feeling of immense relief. His food waited for him, and after Carlton had dressed him for the night, he dismissed every servant and sat in silence and solitude next to the fire to eat his meal. He contemplated what Brother Lamb and Croftin Meran had said to him, what everything meant. His tired mind could come to no absolute conclusions, but he was certain both men were earnest and to be trusted. He would need to speak with them again, and soon, to build relationships with them. But that could wait for another day.


    Yawning, he entered his bedchamber and was about to cast off his robe when a voice issued from the darkness.


    ¡°Hello, Prince Rhoden.¡±

 Chapter 8 - What Could Have Been Pt. 2

    Rhoden spun around, the ties of his robe in his hand. Instinctively, he reached for the knife in his sleeve, but realized that a pocket had never been made in this garment. Sitting in a shadowed chair by the fireplace was a figure who stirred. Light from the window glinted off spectacles as he turned his head.


    ¡°I apologize,¡± said Rapidian. ¡°It was not my intention to frighten you.¡±


    ¡°What are you doing in here?¡± Rhoden demanded, his heart racing.


    Rapidian motioned to the chair opposite him. ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting for you. We have things we need to discuss.¡±


    ¡°This is a private chamber, Aras Rapidian. I understand that you have the trust of my uncle, but that does not give you leave to come to me so furtively and in secret.¡±


    ¡°Horst led me to believe that you were a young man of the utmost courtesy,¡± said Rapidian, tilting his head. ¡°I would have thought you would welcome the chance of a private conversation.¡±


    Rhoden closed his eyes momentarily, doing his best to ignore the rush of annoyance he felt. Yes, he knew this man had things to tell him, and he knew that his uncle trusted him, but he was beyond the point of exhaustion, and his manners began to fail him.


    ¡°I¡¯ve had a very long day,¡± he said, fighting to keep his voice calm. ¡°I would like it very much if we could have this conversation another time.¡±


    ¡°Of that I have no doubt,¡± said Rapidian, ¡°but this cannot wait, Rhoden.¡±


    Rhoden felt irritation and anger rise in him. ¡°My uncle said that you stayed behind from the hunt for the Seranach so you could help me,¡± he said. ¡°Yet you abandon me on the day I needed the most support, and then have the audacity to ask for my patience?¡± He strode to the doorway. ¡°I would like you to leave. Now. My guards will escort you out.¡±


    He turned the doorknob, but the door would not open. He threw his shoulder against it, but to no avail. It was as though the door was made of the stone that surrounded it. Half-snarling, he turned to Rapidian.


    ¡°What did you do?¡±


    Rapidian sat calmly in the chair, his face completely unruffled. ¡°I know you are upset, Rhoden. In your position, there is no one who would not be. I am sorry it must be this way, but there are things I must tell you, and it must be tonight. The door will remained closed until I have said what I need to say. Do not worry about your guards. They will not disturb us.¡±


    Rhoden stalked to his bed, watching Rapidian warily. ¡°Who are you?¡± he asked.


    ¡°You already know who I am: Aras Rapidian, High Master of the Brethren of the Dawn and Elder of the Arnyr.¡±


    ¡°Why won¡¯t the door open?¡±


    ¡°Because I do not want it to. We require absolute privacy for this conversation.¡±


    Rhoden perched on the end of his bed. He scrutinized Rapidian, trying to read his face, but his tired mind could not detect anything, ill-meaning, or otherwise.


    ¡°Fine,¡± he snapped. The sooner this conversation was over, the sooner he could sleep. ¡°What are we to talk about?¡±


    ¡°I will excuse your poor behavior, simply because I know the circumstances you find yourself in,¡± said Rapidian with a frown. ¡°To begin, though Horst promised you I would stay, I have realized that will no longer be possible. I do not know how much longer I can remain in the palace, but it will not be for more than a few days. I am doing everything I can to find the Dryr fugitive I spoke about last night, but I have realized that I need assistance, and so I must go, and soon.¡± He looked sternly at Rhoden. ¡°I do not know when I will have to leave, and that is why we must speak tonight about the Dryr.¡±


    Rhoden frowned. ¡°I already know about him,¡± he said. ¡°Last night, you explained to the Council.¡±


    Rapidian shook his head. ¡°You know about the one, but I speak of the many,¡± he said. ¡°Dryr is the name the Shadows had when they lived on the earth in the days of the Sun King. It was a name they held with pride and meant the People of the Darkness.¡±


    ¡°Forgive me,¡± said Rhoden, holding up his hand. ¡°But I still do not understand. What is so important about the Dryr and their history that cannot wait until morning?¡± Under the haze of tiredness, his irritation boiled like liquid in a cauldron.


    Rapidian considered Rhoden for a long moment. ¡°Several years ago, your uncle contacted me,¡± he said at length, and his glasses flashed as he moved his gaze. ¡°He said that you had become obsessed with learning anything and everything you could about the Shadows. What interested us, however, was your intense desire to know the answer to a more important question: what happened to you in your childhood? What had caused your skin to change, to so resemble the Dryr of old?


    ¡°Horst led you to certain answers that you were ready to hear. Slowly, you began to learn, although you were not wholly satisfied by the answers you found.¡±


    Rhoden clenched his fists. ¡°I know my uncle kept things from me, but are you saying that he deliberately led me away from finding the truth?¡±


    ¡°Your question¡ªto know what happened to you in your childhood, and what caused the change to your skin¡ªwas ours as well,¡± said Rapidian. ¡°It has been ever since the first black began to appear. When you began to search, you were not ready for the answers we could give, so we fed you more palatable information.¡±


    ¡°Horst never told me that he and I had the same goals,¡± said Rhoden. ¡°Why didn¡¯t he tell me about the Dryr or any of this?¡±


    ¡°It was not his place to say,¡± said Rapidian.


    ¡°Whose was it, then, if not his?¡±


    Rapidian paused, then said, ¡°It was your father¡¯s.¡±


    Rhoden stared at the man. He wet his lips, which had gone suddenly dry. ¡°He¡ªtold me he knew nothing about my condition. And he rarely even mentioned the Shadows.¡±


    ¡°And that never gave you suspicion?¡± Rapidian asked grimly. ¡°You never questioned that he might be hiding more than he would say?¡±


    ¡°I never felt I could ask him,¡± said Rhoden, feeling heat rise to his face. ¡°What did he know? Did he know how it happened? Why my skin changed?¡±


    Rapidian sighed. ¡°Unfortunately, we will never know what Garazor knew,¡± he said. ¡°I was not close to him and was not privy to his private thoughts. So, in his absence, I will tell you what I know, and what I suspect happened to you. I will not have every answer you seek, but I hope to be able to provide some knowledge to you, knowledge you have long sought for.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Rhoden breathlessly. His anger, and even some of his exhaustion disappeared in the promise of new revelations.


    Rapidian looked sternly at Rhoden over the rim of his glasses. ¡°I trust from your newly found politeness that you are finally willing to hear me,¡± he said, and his voice held a hint of reproach. ¡°To give you the explanation you seek, I will need to explain some of the history of the Dryr. I trust I will not need to explain again why this is necessary, nor why we must discuss this in private.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Rhoden said humbly.


    ¡°Good,¡± said Rapidian. ¡°Then we should have a little more light, I think. The night is coming fast.¡±


    <hr>


    Once Rhoden had lit a fire in the grate¡ªbeing accustomed to doing this on his own, rather than having servants do it for him¡ªhe joined Rapidian in a chair before it. For a moment, the other man merely stared at the flames, seemingly lost in thought. At a prompting from Rhoden, he began once again to speak.


    ¡°As I said to you before, the black-skinned people from Aleria¡¯s past were known as the Dryr,¡± said Rapidian. ¡°They were not as numerous as the people of the Sun King, by any means, but they were very powerful and mysterious and sought-after. Did you know that, at that time, black skin was often envied by those who did not have it?¡±


    Rhoden looked down at his own hands, black and gray in the fading light from the window. ¡°That is difficult to imagine,¡± he said softly.


    ¡°And yet it is true,¡± said Rapidian. ¡°The Dryr were once the chosen people of Ennis, beloved above all his creations. He gave them the potential for special gifts¡ªgifts which gave them power, and which he did not offer to anyone else.¡±


    ¡°How do you mean?¡±


    ¡°In your studies of the old children¡¯s tales, I¡¯m certain you came across accounts of men and women using magic to help themselves out of tough situations?¡± Rapidian asked. When Rhoden nodded, he continued. ¡°You have perhaps wondered whether those tales were true; and, if they were, what happened to that power?¡±


    Rhoden nodded his head. He had indeed wondered these things.


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    ¡°What has been forgotten in time,¡± said Rapidian, ¡°is that all of these stories stem from a single truth: the Dryr once held those abilities. Magic, if you wish to call it. These gifts from Ennis are what enabled them to become so strong and so feared. And they were lost with the Dryr.¡±


    ¡°What kind of abilities?¡± Rhoden asked.


    ¡°You¡¯ve heard of one already,¡± said Rapidian. ¡°The Dryr I am seeking after has Illusion on his side. The power of Illusion was one of the more common gift of Ennis to the Dryr. They once used it in the arts, to all kinds of amazing purposes and the entertainment of the Sun King in his palace. There were men who could act an entire play on their own, changing their appearances so that they could be every character in it. There were beautiful displays of sound and music and song.¡±


    He looked wistfully into the flames, as though he wished he had been alive during the time of the Sun King, and had experienced such beauty in his court.


    ¡°What other gifts were there?¡± Rhoden prompted.


    Rapidian seemed to come out of a trance. He blinked a few times before continuing. ¡°There were gifts of Sight, of Hearing, and Connection. Men and women who became excellent healers, or crafty spies. Others could travel long distances through shadows. It was also said that one of the rarest gifts was that of foresight, though it was never confirmed. If there ever was a Seer, he or she was never documented.¡±


    ¡°How do you know so much about this?¡± Rhoden asked, amazed. ¡°I¡¯ve never been able to find even a hint of what you¡¯ve told me about the Dryr. Is this what is recorded in the Chronicles?¡± The hunger to know what was written in them, though recently quashed, rose forcefully in him again.


    A hint of a smile touched Rapidian¡¯s face. ¡°The Chronicles,¡± he mused. ¡°Dorican¡¯s, correct? No, there is no mention of these gifts in his works. I¡¯m afraid by the time he wrote them down the histories were already corrupted, as much as he tried to avoid it. It is important to remember that nearly a millennia had passed between the days of the Sun King and the days of Dorican the Scribe. Try as he might, his history was doomed to be incorrect.¡±


    ¡°Then, how do you know?¡± Rhoden asked, searching the man¡¯s face once more. He yearned more than anything to understand him, to know what he knew.


    Rapidian pushed his glasses up his sharp nose. ¡°I¡¯ll explain in a moment,¡± he said. ¡°First, however, I must ask you a question. I know you have studied, or attempted to study, the history of the Dryr. How much do you know about the downfall of the Shadow King?¡±


    Rhoden was a little surprised that such a question was directed at him, and his tired mind pulled together the details.


    ¡°The Shadow King was contemporary to the Sun King,¡± he said. ¡°He turned to evil, plotted against the Sun King, and attempted to overthrow his rule. But the Sun King was able to gather an army and they marched to war. He defeated the Shadow King and all his subjects were killed. No Shadow has ever been seen since that time.¡±


    ¡°Until you,¡± Rapidian mused, looking keenly at him.


    Rhoden tried to ignore this. ¡°But¡ª¡± he said, continuing his thought, ¡°you said last night in the Council that the Dryr were not gone.¡±


    ¡°They are not,¡± said Rapidian. ¡°At its very core, your history is true, but it lacks all of the important details¡ªdetails which the Ennist Church tried desperately to hide during the Great Schism. You see, Rhoden, the Dryr were defeated, yes, but they were not destroyed, as all your histories and stories say. They were imprisoned.¡±


    Rhoden¡¯s breath caught in his chest. ¡°Imprisoned?¡± he repeated. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°The Sun King found, as he battled the Dryr King and his armies, that they were too powerful. Because of their gifts, they could not easily be killed. And their king, the Shadow King, was the most powerful of them all. Solanus, he was called. Tall and proud and as bitter as winter, he fought like a demon against the Sun King, with dozens of Seranach and hordes of Dryr at his side. But eventually even he was overcome.¡±


    Rhoden sat in the heat of the fire and shivered. One Seranach had caused endless chaos for them in the Citadel. He could hardly imagine what two or three or even a dozen of them would have been capable of.


    Rapidian continued. ¡°The Sun King could not overcome them completely and so was forced to find another way. He imprisoned the Dryr and their king deep beneath the earth, in a place that repressed their gifts and made it impossible for them to escape. He gave it the name Falingrast, and sealed it with the Heartstone.¡±


    Rhoden felt as though someone had punched him in the stomach. His eyes grew wide as he realized. ¡°The beast¡ªthe Seranach. It took the Heartstone last night. If¡ªif the Dryr are still imprisoned, perhaps they sent the beast to fetch it for them.¡± He looked at Rapidian in distress. ¡°What will happen if the Dryr have the Heartstone?¡±


    ¡°We do not want to imagine the terror of what would happen if Solanus were once again to get his hands on it,¡± Rapidian said, his voice hard. ¡°But that day will never come. And, no, Rhoden. The Seranach did not take the Heartstone. It only thought it had. But we¡¯re getting ahead of ourselves. It will make more sense with a little more explanation, I promise.¡±


    Rhoden nodded and sat back, though he was thoroughly confused. How could the beast have thought it had the Heartstone? Unless¡­


    ¡°It was a fake,¡± he said, and Rapidian smiled.


    ¡°Horst always said you were the brightest mind in the College,¡± he said. ¡°Yes, it was a fake. Once the Seranach, or its master, realized they had been duped, they discarded it straightaway. It was a little difficult, but after following their trail, I did find it.¡±


    From a bag at his feet, Rapidian withdrew a crystal the size of two fists, which shone faintly in the light of the fire. Rhoden stared at it.


    ¡°Does the Church know?¡± he asked. ¡°That the Heartstone is a fake?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Rapidian, placing the crystal stone on his knee. ¡°The true Heartstone was removed from the Church, oh, centuries ago. This was a good enough copy, though it lacks every virtue the original had. Any Dryr with a gift could tell, which is why it was thrown aside as soon as it was gained. But this copy, despite its flaws, has served the Church for many years.¡±


    ¡°Even though it wasn¡¯t the true Heartstone?¡±


    ¡°Of course. After all, it is not necessarily the object itself, but the reverence and honor it is given that gives the object power.¡±


    ¡°And where is the real Heartstone, if not here?¡±


    ¡°Safe, I can assure you. Safe and hidden away, where it can never be used to free or influence the Dryr.¡±


    Rhoden nodded, staring at the crystal. A hot spike of anger rose in him, though it was not directed at Rapidian.


    ¡°If the Seranach was after the Heartstone, and the Heartstone was false,¡± he said, his voice shaking, ¡°then the attack on the Citadel is meaningless. That thing killed the High Priest, my father, all those people¡ªfor nothing.¡±


    ¡°No, not nothing,¡± said Rapidian hurriedly. ¡°Never nothing, Rhoden. Through such great loss, there is something to gain here. We now know that the Dryr who initiated the attack on the Citadel, whether working as an individual or commanded by someone more powerful than himself, was after the Heartstone. That is very important for us to know! It gives us a glimpse into their plan, to see what it is they hope to accomplish. It gives us an advantage.¡±


    Rhoden¡¯s anger, as quickly as it had risen, subsided. ¡°Us?¡± he queried. ¡°You and my uncle?¡±


    ¡°Ah, I see there is still quite a bit to explain,¡± said Rapidian. ¡°No, not just us, and not even just the Brethren. We work together with the Arnyr, and have for centuries.¡±


    ¡°Who or what are the Arnyr?¡± Rhoden asked. ¡°You¡¯ve mentioned them before, but have given no explanation.¡±


    ¡°They are a very private folk,¡± Rapidian said. ¡°And for good reason, as I will soon explain. You remember how Solanus and his followers were imprisoned within Falingrast?¡±


    Rhoden nodded.


    ¡°The Sun King placed guards over the prison when it was made. The men he trusted to do this were Dryr themselves. I am sure I do not need to explain to you that not all Dryr were imprisoned with their king. Good and bad exist in all peoples. The Dryr who would not follow Solanus fought fiercely against him, and helped the Sun King in the imprisoning of their king. Because of their valor and bravery, the Sun King gave the remaining Dryr this important task: to guard Falingrast until Ithelinum once again joins the earth and Ennis judges those within the prison¡¯s walls. It was not a task given lightly or even wholly willingly, but the remaining Dryr felt it their duty to repay the world for what their king had done.


    ¡°The descendants of the first wardens guard the prison to this day, in secret. They quickly cast off the name they had held, and called themselves Arnyr: the Children of the Watch. They live now, high in the mountains, keeping their unenviable and necessary task.¡±


    ¡°There is a community of Shadows, hidden in the mountains?¡± Rhoden asked, his tired mind sprinting to keep up with his thoughts. A sudden desire rose up in him. ¡°Where? Where do they live? Can I meet them? Why does no one know about them?¡±


    Rapidian gave a tight smile. ¡°They have their ways of keeping out of sight,¡± he said. ¡°As for where they live, I believe I am not at liberty to tell you, yet. I am a part of their community, and so may come and go as I wish, but they are wary of outsiders.¡±


    Rhoden suddenly straightened, looking at Rapidian with new eyes. ¡°You¡¯re one of them,¡± he said slowly. ¡°You¡¯re Arnyr.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Rapidian said, with a small chuckle. ¡°I am a man, and always have been.¡±


    ¡°But¡ªthe door,¡± said Rhoden, twisting around to look at it. ¡°How did you¡ª?¡±


    ¡°I have my own secrets,¡± said Rapidian. ¡°Ones I will not even tell princes or kings, no matter if they ask kindly. But do not trouble yourself. I mean no harm.¡±


    Rhoden relaxed a little. ¡°My uncle?¡± he asked. ¡°What does he know of all this?¡±


    ¡°All of what I have told you, Horst knows,¡± said Rapidian. ¡°He and all the Brethren. I have led their ranks for many a long year, and we have continued a close correspondence with the Arnyr. I am privileged enough to be counted among their Elders; a kind of honorary member, if you will.¡± He looked at Rhoden with a clear, honest expression. ¡°I suppose that is why I know what I do, Rhoden. I have spent many years¡ªindeed, my whole lifetime¡ªstudying the Dryr and the Arnyr, the prison and the Sun King. Through the grace of God, the Arnyr escaped the Great Purge, and so their histories remain accurate and clear. We use the truth to help us stop threats before they happen. We have kept many Dryr from escaping their prison, though it should have been impossible for them even to try. But our watch has become lax through the years, as it never should have been. Because of our pride and folly, we failed, to the detriment of your life and so many others. The Dryr man who escaped should not have made it to the capital, let alone have brought a Seranach into the midst of the people.¡± He turned his head, and Rhoden saw tears behind the spectacles. ¡°I will never forgive myself for that blunder,¡± he said softly.


    ¡°Surely, you cannot be wholly to blame,¡± said Rhoden. ¡°From what you have said, it seems the Dryr will ever try to leave their prison.¡±


    Rapidian¡¯s mouth curved in a small smile. ¡°You are kind,¡± he said, ¡°but I cannot accept it, even though your kindness is given in ignorance. It is our duty, Rhoden, to keep threats such as these from becoming reality. We have failed our duty, and the consequences lie on our heads.¡±


    For a moment, the two of them were silent, staring into the fire. Rhoden thought on Rapidian¡¯s words, and images from the night before came to his mind: the terrible staring eyes of the Seranach, Cael¡¯s choking breaths, the scream of his father. That they could have been avoided was what he longed for above anything. But he found he could not be angry with Rapidian. Whatever shame and anger the other man felt, Rhoden knew that there was now no changing what had happened.


    It was incredible to have his mind expanded thus, to learn of the Arnyr and their never ending task. To know that Shadows still existed, and to know that they were within reach, was amazing to consider. Once again, he felt a deep desire awaken within him¡ªto see the Arnyr, to meet others who were like him. He wanted to know where they were, what their culture was like, and what other secrets and truths they knew.

 Chapter 8 - What Could Have Been Pt. 3

    After several minutes, Rhoden chanced to ask the question foremost on his mind.


    ¡°My father,¡± he said, bringing Rapidian out of his thoughts. ¡°Did he know of this? About the Dryr and the Arnyr?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Rapidian simply. ¡°Garazor knew about the Arnyr. He came to know of them through his association with your uncle. Horst was convinced of your father¡¯s earnest desire to know the truth, and so he brought him to the Arnyr.¡± In the dark light, Rapidian frowned. ¡°Your uncle had only the best intentions, but he was young in those days. Very young. When Garazor came to the Arnyr, they welcomed him, though cautiously. They did not know his intentions, and so trusted him very little. For years before you or your brother were born, he sought after their trust, slowly building relationships with them. He had a single goal: to bring the Arnyr out of obscurity and into the light. Knowing that their community existed gave him hope that someday the fear of the Shadows could be eradicated from his people. Or, perhaps, he saw the gifts that they possessed and wished to use them to his own advantage. It is impossible to know why he wanted this integration so badly. The Arnyr were skeptical of his intentions at first, but eventually became cautiously optimistic. They began to work with your father toward their common goal. Because I understood the past and the danger the Arnyr might find themselves in, I counseled them away from the action, but ever they invited Garazor and ever he came.¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡± Rhoden asked, knowing that his father¡¯s plan had never become a reality. ¡°Why did he never take me to meet them?¡±


    Rapidian sighed deeply. ¡°Your father is the reason you were never invited into their fold.¡±


    Rhoden looked sharply at him. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Shortly after you were born, you were very sick, as you might already know,¡± Rapidian said. ¡°You and your mother were dying. In his grief, your father went to the Arnyr for help. Through his many visits, Garazor had come to know about the Arnyr¡¯s true purpose, and had even seen Falingrast from afar. He knew stories about the Dryr, and their abilities, and though they only possessed a fraction of what they had in the past, he thought that they could help him.


    ¡°So, he came and demanded an audience with Solanus. When the Elders refused, he became violent. He hurt many people that night, but more disastrous than that, the trust of the Arnyr was shattered. They saw his demand as a betrayal of everything they had been working towards, that your father had only been using the Arnyr until they came to be of some use to him. I was not with them when this happened¡ªI was away on an important errand. When I returned, it was to find their community in chaos. The doors were closed for many years, and never opened. The watch around the prison increased as it never had before. We kept the Dryr closely under suspicion for many a long year afterwards. For your father had his audience, and made a deal with Solanus, the Shadow King.¡±


    ¡°What was the deal?¡± Rhoden asked. His heartbeat began slowly to quicken within his chest.


    Rapidian shrugged heavily. ¡°I had hoped to someday ask your father that,¡± he said. ¡°But I can draw assumptions from what I observed. This is what I planned to tell you. Beware, Rhoden. You may not like what it is I have to say.¡±


    Rhoden motioned for him to continue, and Rapidian straightened himself.


    ¡°As soon as your father returned from his visit with Solanus, you and your mother were miraculously healed against all hope. It seems your father received what it was he had be wishing for. But it was the other end of the bargain that worried me most. What, I wondered, did Solanus ask for in return? He was ever manipulative and cunning, and I feared for your father, and watched him many a long year.


    ¡°Then, your skin began to change, and my worst fears became a reality.¡±


    Rhoden found that he was trembling. ¡°Are¡ªare you saying that I was the other end of the deal?¡± he asked. Fear and confusion and anger roiled within him. ¡°Why would my father do that? Why would he risk everything to save my life, then promise it away?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that was his intention,¡± said Rapidian. ¡°Your father loved you very much, Rhoden. He would not have bargained with your life if he thought he was going to lose it. Either Solanus requested the impossible of your father, or gave your father what he wished without immediately demanding a price. I believe the latter is more likely. It holds with Solanus to be sly and consider every angle of a situation before he could work it to his advantage. And your father proved many things through his actions. He was very protective of you and your mother for the first few years of your life. When your skin began to change, he brought you immediately to the Arnyr, begging for help, but they turned him away. They did not easily forget the harm he had caused, and it did not matter what he offered or how he pleaded.


    ¡°No physician in the palace was of any help with your situation, for they could not understand what was happening. Horst told me almost immediately, and as soon as I could, I came to you.¡±


    Rhoden¡¯s eyes were fixed on Rapidian¡¯s face. He did not remember meeting the man before, though he had been very young when his transformation had begun. His memories from that time were muddled like murky water.


    Rapidian looked ponderously into the flames, remembering. ¡°It was extraordinary what I found when I came,¡± he said quietly. ¡°In all the history of the world, this has never happened. The Dryr and Arnyr are a race. They are born into their skin and the birthright it brings them. Never before had I heard of a Shadow being made. For it seemed that is what was happening to you. Every day, more and more of your skin changed, until eventually all of it was deep gray. Your mood was different, as well. You quarreled with your brother and the servants. You threw tantrums. There were some days you would not come out of bed.¡±


    Rhoden watched him, his heard pounding in his chest. He had heard much of this before, but hearing an account of his childhood from a practical stranger was something different. It was more raw, held more weight than it ever had before.


    ¡°I tried everything I could think of, used every resource to its utmost end, but I could neither stop the transformation, nor turn back its course. So I spent my time trying to determine what had caused it. In my mind, it was clear that Solanus was behind this, but I could not see how. He has been locked in his prison for nearly two millennia, and the borders are strong. He cannot have left, so I believed that someone on the outside, a rogue Dryr, must have been the cause. Though how Solanus would have contacted this hypothetical person was a mystery. Despite my doubts, I tested every servant, every nurse who worked with you and as I had guessed, it yielded no results. At my recommendation, your father replaced many of the palace staff, but it did nothing to stop your change.


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    ¡°The only conclusion I came to in the end is that it was your proximity to the prison that caused the change. You see, Falingrast is very near to the royal palace, practically beneath it. It rests within the mountain outside, the Crown. I tested this theory by having you go to stay with your uncle for several days in his manor. To my amazement, it worked. You became calmer, and more your usual self. So I became more and more convinced that somehow, this was the reason for your change.


    ¡°We decided it was for the best that you be removed from the palace. You were very young, and it was not an easy decision to make. Your father fought against it. He did not want you to leave, but in the end we convinced him it was for your own protection. We came up with a believable narrative to feed the lords of the Council¡ªthat you were to be sent away for your education¡ªand made a plan to return for short periods every year. And so, you were sent to Tellegar, with your uncle to watch over you. He was there to report any changes¡ªfor good or bad¡ªto me. We found your time at the college, though devastating to a young child, did, in fact, help you. But I think, over time, the true reason you were sent away became horribly misunderstood and misconstrued.¡±


    Rapidian sighed and sat back. ¡°Well, there you have it,¡± he said. ¡°These are the answers you have been looking for, I believe. I am sorry, Rhoden. It is not a pleasant truth.¡±


    Rhoden watched the fire and did his best to sort through the emotions running within him like wild stallions. Anger, that this had ever happened to him at all. Amazement, for knowing the truth at last. Grief at the loss of his father and the sacrifices he made on Rhoden¡¯s behalf. He remembered his father¡¯s words, spoken some time before the wedding: I¡¯ve failed you. Sending you to Tellegar has only isolated you beyond what I ever intended. I¡¯d like for us to start over, if such a thing is possible.


    Rhoden unstuck his throat and fought back tears. ¡°He¡ªhe asked me to forgive him,¡± he said hoarsely, and once again he was kneeling on the floor of the Citadel, holding his father¡¯s hand as he spoke his last words. ¡°I thought it was because he regretted banishing me. I hated him for that. I thought he was embarrassed of me, or that he feared me. But¡ªit wasn¡¯t a banishment after all, was it?¡± He put his head in his hands and whispered, ¡°I was a blind fool.¡±


    Rapidian leaned forward, and his face behind his spectacles was soft and kind in the firelight. ¡°Your father loved you more than anything in the world,¡± he said. ¡°You, and your brother. He was not a perfect man, but he did what he could to show his love for you. I am sure that letting you go was one of his biggest regrets. But, under the circumstances, it could not have been helped.¡±


    Rhoden dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to rub away the exhaustion and grief he felt. He saw his father so differently, now. To know that Garazor loved him, in his own way, was difficult to imagine, even taking into account the discussion they had had weeks ago. But siting by the fire, hearing Rapidian¡¯s account, Rhoden knew it was true. It made his sorrow sink even deeper into his soul. He had never had the chance to know his father that way. And he never would, in this life.


    ¡°I am sorry, Rhoden,¡± said Rapidian after a long while. ¡°I know these are hard truths to bear, and I know you are exhausted. But there is one last thing we must discuss.¡±


    Rhoden raised his head, spots flashing before his eyes. With a great effort, he took a deep breath and repressed his grief. Later. He could mourn later. He nodded to Rapidian.


    ¡°I thought long and hard about this,¡± the man said. ¡°I cannot leave you without knowing that you are protected. You are likely to spend the rest of your life here in the palace, Rhoden. If, indeed, being so near Falingrast caused your transformation, it is possible that same influence still exists. The longer you remain in the palace, the more you may feel a connection to the Dryr within the prison. And I would like to avoid that, if at all possible. That is why I will give this to you.¡±


    Once again, he reached down to the bag at his feet and withdrew something from it. Rhoden blinked with tired eyes. It was a crystal, about the size of two fists. In the light of the fire, he could see that it glowed with an inner light, ethereal and strange. He looked sharply at Rapidian.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°This is the true Heartstone. The stone given to the Sun King himself.¡±


    Rhoden stared at it. ¡°You said it was hidden away,¡± he said.


    ¡°It has been,¡± said Rapidian, contemplating the stone. ¡°The High Master of the Brethren has kept the Heartstone safe for countless generations. It is his decision what to do with it.¡± He extended his hands. ¡°I have decided to give it to you.¡±


    Rhoden reached out and accepted the Heartstone, holding it in both hands. The light was soft and warm. He felt instantly as though he were submerged in a warm bath, relaxed and content. He sighed, and a layer of sorrow was wiped away.


    ¡°I¡¯ve done what I can for you,¡± Rapidian said, watching Rhoden closely. ¡°Giving you the Heartstone is the last defense, and the strongest. It does not hold the same amount of power it once did, but it will protect you.¡±


    Rhoden turned the stone in his hands. To his surprise, he found a large crack on the bottom, running the entire length of the stone and was the width of his forefinger.


    ¡°A scar from the battle with Solanus,¡± said Rapidian. ¡°He tried to use the Heartstone for his own purpose, and the Heartstone perceived his evil intentions. It broke, to prevent him from using that power. It is what aided the Sun King in creating Falingrast. There is only a very little left, and it dwindles ever. While the vessel is broken, it can never hold what it once did.¡± He looked at the stone with a sadness that Rhoden did not quite understand, like that of losing a dear friend. Then, he met Rhoden¡¯s eyes and gave a swift smile. ¡°But what remains is enough. Keep it close, and hidden. No one must know you have this in your possession. There still remains a Dryr to be found. And I doubt he has gone very far.¡±


    Rhoden placed the Heartstone gently onto a side table. ¡°You will leave soon, then?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Yes. I go to the Arnyr, to seek their aid. Now that I have said what I must to you, and given you the Heartstone, perhaps I will leave directly. There is nothing more urgent than finding this rogue and his Seranach, and bringing them back to Falingrast.¡±


    Rhoden nodded, feeling weariness settle on him like a heavy blanket. Rapidian gave him a kind smile.


    ¡°Sleep, Rhoden. You will need it. There will be many obstacles ahead, but I have confidence in you. I will trouble you no longer.¡±


    He made to stand, and an object tumbled from his lap¡ªthe false Heartstone. They both looked at the empty crystal on the carpet, and Rhoden wondered how anyone could have mistaken this cheap copy for the original.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take this to the Ennist priests,¡± Rhoden said, stooping to pick it up. ¡°At the very least, they will no longer search for it.¡±


    Rapidian smiled. ¡°I think that is very wise,¡± he said. ¡°Goodbye, Rhoden. And good luck. I will return as soon as I am able.¡±


    Then, with a bow, he excused himself, opening the door as easily as though the hinges had been newly oiled. Rhoden stood in the room, staring at the Heartstone and its copy. There were so many thoughts in his head, he hardly knew what to think. But his body was heavy with postponed sleep. He gathered both crystals together, once again relishing in the warmth of the true Heartstone, and hid them beneath his bed under the loose floorboard where he had hidden his old clothing.


    When he climbed into bed, he fell immediately into darkness, and slept without dreaming.

 Chapter 9 - The Truth of the Matter Pt. 1

    Mira sat silently beside Cael¡¯s bed and did what she could to keep the panic at bay. It rose ever in her, coloring her thoughts with fear and doubt. Despite her confidence in her decision to stay, with each passing hour, she was faced with the consequences of that choice. She was with Biani, yes, but they were alone, completely alone. Surrounded by hostile Alerians who looked at them with suspicion in their eyes. And what could she do? She was a lady with no power. She had not married their crown prince, and had no official standing within the Alerian court. More and more, she realized the folly of her action, and every moment she found herself praying to the Sun King to speed her family on their way home, and that a peaceful resolution between the kingdoms would arise.


    To distract herself from such a distressing situation as she found herself in, Mira threw herself into caring for Cael. She could not sit and do nothing. And so, on the morning after King Garazor¡¯s funeral, Mira awoke early and left Biani sleeping peacefully in their bed. She made her way to Cael¡¯s chambers and confronted the physicians there, demanding them with as much authority as she could that she be involved in his care. The physicians were surprised, but assented without comment. Mira ignored the sadness she saw in their eyes. She did not want their pity. She wanted Cael to recover, and quickly.


    He lay in his bed, unmoving but for the slow rise and fall of his chest. When he had been brought to the palace two nights before, he had been lucid, but only just. There had been a blow to his head, which the physicians told her was not as terrible as it had looked. What worried them more was the damage done to his back. When the creature had thrown him through the air, he had crashed into a pillar. The physicians told her of the deep bruising along Cael¡¯s spine, but until he awoke and was able to tell them more, they had no way of knowing how much damage had been done. They did not say, but Mira guessed that there was a possibility he might never walk again.


    To help with the pain, the physicians had given him the juice of the poppy, which brought him into a deep sleep. He awoke every so often, they said, but only to sip at some water and then once again fall into oblivion. He had not said a word, except to beg for the relief of his pain.


    The physicians, she could tell, were exhausted. There were a half dozen of them, ranging in age from just older than herself to the age of her grandfather, and beyond. Several were women, who occasionally brought Mira warm cloths to lay on Cael¡¯s forehead. They spoke in soft voices, and there was an air of mingled uncertainty and despair around everyone in the room. Mira ensured that they were taking their duty in shifts, making sure that they would get the rest they needed. They smiled at her concern and assured her that they were.


    Mira sat beside the bed and held Cael¡¯s hand as he slept. His face was as pale as the wrappings around his head and his skin was cool to the touch. He was silent and still under the blankets. Her eyes searched his face, looking for any sign that he might be waking, and she waited.


    She tried to hope that he would awaken, and sit up, and smile again. More than anything, she wanted to see his smile and feel its warmth in her heart. He had such a way of disarming a person with his sincerity and honesty, and was unlike anyone she had ever known.


    She did what she could not to think about what had been lost. Just two nights ago, she had almost been his bride. She remembered how embarrassed she had been, to walk out into the Citadel, wearing the atrocious dress the Thalist priests had procured for her, and then how Cael had calmed her with a few simple words: Don¡¯t think about them. You are radiant tonight, Mira. They would welcome you joyfully into Ithelinum, were you given the honor.


    He had always had that effect on her, whether through personal interaction or their written correspondence. He was always the gallant prince, whereas she had been the nervous young girl. She had been so timid at their first meeting. Shy and small, barely older than Biani, her parents had brought her to Aleria to meet her betrothed. And Cael, though only a couple of years the elder, had smiled and taken her hand and they had played for hours in the gardens. Over the years, their friendship had only grown, blossoming into something deeper through their frequent visits and many letters to one another. Cael was the kind of person you could not help but love. It was strange, she thought, as she sat by his side, how much she found she loved him. She ached with it. Her heart beat firmly in her chest and with it her hope remained strong. He would wake up. He had to.


    The other alternative was too terrible to consider. Against her will, Mira found her mind drawn to the circumstances that had brought her would-be husband to his sickbed. Once again, she saw the horrific creature in her mind¡¯s eye, saw its long claws and empty, staring white eyes. She saw Prince Rhoden standing before it, talking to it in some language she had not understood.


    A measure of her grief had passed over the last couple of days, and Mira no longer felt the same repulsion and anger towards Rhoden as she had. She was even beginning to question whether she had heard what she had, or whether she had not understood his words because she had been too concerned about Cael to pay close attention. But there was a part of her that still doubted.


    This creature was like the ones from the old stories about the Shadows. And it had seemed to obey Rhoden, to a certain extent. He had, bewilderingly, waved his crown before him, as if to ward the creature away, and it had left soon after. Could that have been a coincidence, or just an act? True, she admitted to herself, Rhoden had not seemed triumphant at the death of the king, either in the Citadel or during the funeral. She had watched him carefully all through the parade down Torran¡¯s streets. Rhoden¡¯s shoulders had been straight and regal as he walked, but his eyes had revealed his true emotion. When his father had been buried within his tomb, Mira had seen real sorrow there, pain she only barely understood. It had been enough to bring a hot flush of shame to her face.


    As her own pain dwindled down to warm coals, she could see more clearly. And the more she looked, the more she began to believe that perhaps Rhoden had been innocent in the attack, after all. Cael wouldn¡¯t have rejected him the way she had. He would have embraced his brother, despite all doubts and fears, and would have fought for the truth, no matter the consequences. Mira smiled as she considered it. Yes, Cael would have found what really happened, and would not have hidden himself away, as she was doing. Grudgingly, she admitted to herself that remaining angry at Rhoden was pointless. If she was to understand what had happened to Cael, and what that beast was, she needed to face him.


    Childishly, she did not want to, not yet. She did not want to contemplate the fact that Rhoden would take over ruling in his father¡¯s stead. He shouldn¡¯t be king, she thought. It is Cael¡¯s right.


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    She was still sitting at Cael¡¯s side, stroking his hand and contemplating his dark-skinned brother, when there came a knock at the door. The physicians opened it, and to Mira¡¯s surprise Issa entered, bringing Biani with her by the hand. Biani¡¯s eyes were red and puffed from crying. Her bright red hair was tousled from restless sleep and her nightgown was rumpled. When she saw Mira, she ran and flung her arms around her shoulders.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to interrupt,¡± said Issa quietly. ¡°I entered your chambers and found your sister. She was inconsolable, and we have been looking for you for some time now.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Beanie,¡± said Mira. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± She raised a hand and stroked her sister¡¯s silken hair. Biani gave no reply, but merely sniffed and buried her head deeper into Mira¡¯s chest.


    Noticing the disapproving looks of the physicians, who clearly believed a child had no place in a sickroom, Mira gathered her sister around her, and together they left Cael¡¯s bedside. She gave one last look at his quiet, still form, then turned away. At the door, a navy-suited guard stepped forward as an escort and Mira noted him sourly. Before the disaster at the Citadel, there had never been a need for a guard. But as she decided to stay in Aleria, the Council assured her it was for her safety. Mira saw it as a sign of mistrust on their side.


    Issa followed them quietly, and together the three of them went back to the chambers designated for Mira and Biani. Once there, Mira sat on a sofa as they waited for breakfast to be brought and Biani crawled up next to her.


    ¡°I thought you left me,¡± she said in a small voice, twisting her hands in her lap. ¡°I was so scared.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Mira murmured, holding her tight. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Beanie. I should have left a note for you. I¡¯ll leave one in the future.¡±


    Looking over at Issa, she nodded her thanks, and Issa relaxed into a chair. Though her face seemed strained, she smiled at the little girl.


    ¡°We¡¯re lucky your sister did not go far, aren¡¯t we?¡±


    Biani nodded her head, looking shyly at Mira¡¯s companion.


    A maid brought the breakfast service on silver trays¡ªsteaming eggs and crisp bread, with sweetmeats on the side. Biani ate one of these first, smearing jam and sugar on her face in the process. A hint of her mischievous defiance entered her eyes when Mira gave her a swift look of disapproval, but the sight of it warmed Mira¡¯s heart as much as it irritated her. It was very unlike her sister to be so quiet and solemn. To see the life come back to Biani was encouraging.


    While they ate, Mira told Issa of Cael¡¯s condition and how she planned to visit him as often as possible. Issa nodded her head and her expression was melancholy.


    ¡°It is horrible,¡± she said. ¡°To see him that way.¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± Mira agreed, sipping her tea. ¡°But I hold onto hope that he will recover. It is all I can do.¡±


    They lapsed into a silence. Biani finished her meal, not taking notice of the conversation. But when a maid came to lead her to be dressed, she shied away, pressing herself close to Mira.


    ¡°You must be dressed for today,¡± Mira said with a small laugh. ¡°You cannot wander the palace in your nightdress.¡±


    ¡°Where is Prosper?¡± Biani asked, her eyes wide and staring. ¡°I want Prosper, Mira.¡±


    Mira¡¯s heart skipped a beat. Prosper, the kindly nurse who had raised her and all of her sisters, had disappeared during the attack on the Citadel. Mira had not heard word that she had been killed, and could only assume that she had returned to Mesia with everyone else.


    ¡°Prosper is not here,¡± said Mira, doing her best to keep her voice from faltering. ¡°Go with this maid instead.¡±


    ¡°No, I want Prosper!¡± Biani said more forcefully, and she began to cry.


    Mira excused the maids, who were all looking distressed, and took her sister back to their room to personally dress her. Biani messily wiped her tears away on her hand and looked at Mira with confusion and anger in her eyes. Mira could only imagine what she was thinking. She was small and young, but she was not blind. There were questions she would ask that Mira was not certain she could answer.


    Mira fastened Biani¡¯s dress and helped her with the shoes, then sat her before the mirror and began to gently comb the tangles from her hair. Before she had time to react, her sister asked one of the questions she had been dreading.


    ¡°Mira, where are Mother and Father?¡±


    Mira set the brush aside and looked down into Biani¡¯s eyes through the mirror. ¡°They¡¯re not here right now,¡± she said, attempting to put pep in her voice. ¡°But they¡¯ll be back soon.¡±


    ¡°Where did they go?¡±


    ¡°They had to go home, Dear Heart. With Prosper and Rissa and Dritta and Great-Uncle Sebastt.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    Mira sighed and crouched by the stool so that she was slightly below her sister¡¯s face.


    ¡°Has Father ever told you that sometimes bad things happen?¡±


    Biani nodded. Her face was blotchy from crying.


    ¡°Well,¡± said Mira delicately. ¡°Something very bad has happened. King Garazor¡ªthat¡¯s Prince Cael¡¯s father¡ªdied. You remember the funeral yesterday?¡±


    Again, Biani nodded. ¡°The black monster killed him,¡± she said, her voice matter-of-fact.


    Mira felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. How much had Biani seen that night? It was no wonder she was terrified to be left alone.


    ¡°Yes, the monster killed him,¡± Mira said. ¡°And Prince Cael is very sick. Mother and Father had to go home because it was very important for them to do so. We have to stay here until they come back for us. We¡¯ll stay to take care of Prince Cael.¡±


    Biani fingered the skirts of her dress. ¡°Did we do something wrong?¡± she asked.


    ¡°No,¡± Mira said firmly. ¡°No, we didn¡¯t do anything wrong.¡±


    ¡°Then why do we have to stay here?¡± Biani pressed. ¡°Why are there guards everywhere?¡±


    Mira¡¯s heart ached with her sister¡¯s questions. Because we¡¯re political prisoners, she wanted to say, but that would scare Biani even more, and besides, she was too young to understand the delicate implications.


    She smoothed Biani¡¯s hair and gave her a quick kiss to the forehead. ¡°We¡¯re just going to have to be brave,¡± she said, smiling at her sister. ¡°Until Mother and Father return. Do you think you can?¡±


    Biani nodded, but her lip trembled. ¡°I want to go home,¡± she whispered, and began again to cry. Mira gathered her in her arms.


    ¡°I know,¡± she whispered into Biani¡¯s hair. ¡°So do I.¡±

 Chapter 9 - The Truth of the Matter Pt. 2

    The rest of the morning was spent in relative peace. Once Mira and Biani had composed themselves and gone again to the sitting room, Issa suggested that they go for a walk through the gardens. Feeling restless, Mira agreed at once.


    They donned light cloaks and collected the designated King¡¯s Guard at the door. Mira fought down her frustration as he followed them through the palace and out into the weak sunshine of a new spring day. She understood why he must be there, but she chafed at the demand. Surely the Alerian Council of Lords did not think that two young women would be any threat to their nation? But the guard had a nice face, and nodded each time she glanced at him, and her irritation abated, though only slightly. It could be worse, she told herself. At least we have the liberty of walking where we would.


    The palace gardens were cool and damp, the leaves of the many trees and shrubs heavy with yesterday¡¯s rain. Mira breathed in the fresh air and pulled her cloak a little closer to herself. She was grateful for it. Spring had only just begun, and here, so high in the mountains, the air contained a sharp chill.


    Biani ran ahead, leaving a swath of wet, trampled grass in her wake. She called back occasionally, telling Mira to look at a bright daffodil or a cluster of purple-slippered crocus. Mira watched her bright head bounce through the hedges and felt another small part of her burden lift from her shoulders. We must make a habit of this, she decided, though her slippers quickly became saturated with the wetness and her feet were growing cold. If Biani was happy, it did not matter.


    Issa walked at Mira¡¯s side, and together they spoke of trivial things: the changing of the seasons, which types of plants grew in the gardens, and noting how much snow covered the mountains. Mira was still unused to being in their enormous shadow. In the lowlands of Mesia, where she had been raised, the mountains were only a gray stripe on the horizon. There was something unsettling about having so much of the sky blocked from view by tall, impenetrable rock walls. Mira trusted that, in time she would adjust, for the mountains were truly beautiful. But in the meantime, she felt their ever-present nature looming ever over her.


    Mira had called Biani back to them and they were beginning their slow return towards the palace when she noticed two figures coming towards them through the gardens. A moment later, Croftin Meran, accompanied by a young page boy, approached. Mira smiled at him, happy to see a familiar face. She had met Croftin shortly before the wedding, and had been thoroughly impressed. He was absolutely smitten with Issa, that much was obvious, and Issa seemed content in his affections. Mira was sorry their wedding must now be delayed until the official mourning period of King Garazor¡¯s death was over.


    ¡°My ladies,¡± Croftin said, bowing and sweeping his hand flamboyantly to the side. ¡°What a wonderful idea, to walk in the gardens! I would have joined you, but I was busy with affairs of state. A truly boring morning, if I must be honest.¡±


    He grinned down at Biani, who smiled shyly back. Then, he gestured to the page.


    ¡°I believe you are being summoned, Lady Mira,¡± he said seriously.


    The boy nodded, his eyes darting nervously around. ¡°Prince Rhoden requires your presence immediately,¡± he said. ¡°In the audience chamber.¡±


    Mira¡¯s stomach clenched tightly. A meeting in the audience chamber could only mean a conversation, private or otherwise. She was not certain she was ready to face Prince Rhoden, but she shook herself from her thoughts and nodded respectfully to the page.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said. ¡°Tell him I will come directly.¡±


    The page bowed and retreated, jogging back towards the palace. Mira watched him go, a feeling of trepidation growing inside her.


    ¡°Come, Biani,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯ll return to our chambers. You must change, and I need a new pair of shoes if I am to go to a royal audience.¡±


    ¡°Well, that won¡¯t do at all!¡± Croftin cried in mock outrage. ¡°You are to be summoned to the prince, while your sister must remain confined indoors?¡±


    Mira eyed him humorously. ¡°There will be other days to walk the gardens, Lord Meran,¡± she said.


    ¡°But none so beautiful as this one!¡± Croftin protested. He crouched next to Biani, drawing his head in closer and conferring with her as though they were having a secret conversation. ¡°Besides, you have not seen the Closed Gardens, have you, Mistress Biani? With the private waterfall and swinging bench? There¡¯s also the most wonderful climbing tree. You must try it! Do you think, if you asked your sister nicely, she would let you?¡±


    Biani looked up at Mira with hope in her eyes. ¡°Can I go, Mira? Please?¡±


    Mira wanted to argue that climbing trees was not the sort of behavior fit for young ladies, but then remembered how many trees she had climbed when she was Biani¡¯s age. With a sigh, she made as though the decision was very difficult.


    ¡°But there are so many exciting books to read indoors,¡± she said, and Biani pulled a face.


    ¡°They¡¯re not exciting,¡± she said. ¡°They¡¯re boring.¡±


    Issa laughed, the sunlight shining on her clear skin. ¡°We¡¯ll watch over her,¡± she assured Mira. ¡°Go to your summons. You don¡¯t want to keep him waiting.¡±


    Mira watched, smiling, as Croftin took Biani¡¯s hand and led her away, Issa following behind them. Then, she gathered her guard and made her way back into the palace.


    <hr>


    When Mira arrived at the audience chamber a quarter of an hour later, she found there was already an audience underway. The tunnel-like room had high walls supported by thick pillars and a raised dais at the end, on which sat an ornate, golden throne. Prince Rhoden sat on a chair in front of this, addressing a large group of white-robed Ennist priests, and only paused briefly as Mira entered. A couple of men stood or sat on the dais around him.


    Mira walked quickly and quietly on the side of the room, until she could hear what was being said. The new High Priest, who had officiated the funerals yesterday, was speaking. He was a tall man with sharp features and his gray-brown hair reflected the light from the windows above.


    ¡°We cannot thank you enough, your Highness,¡± he said with a clear voice. ¡°If we gave our thanks for the rest of our lives, our gratitude would be inadequate. The Heartstone is a priceless treasure, irreplaceable in the artifacts of the past.¡±


    As Mira drew closer, she saw that the High Priest held a crystal in his hands, about the size of two fists. She recognized it immediately. The Heartstone. High Priest Tallis had held it aloft during the wedding ceremony two nights before. A small spike of fear shot through her like an arrow. The beast had disappeared with it clutched in its hand. How, then, had it come to be in Prince Rhoden¡¯s possession? Once again, her doubts flared within her chest.


    Prince Rhoden accepted the thanks of the priests with a nod of the head. In the bright light of day, he looked even darker than normal, his skin inky and void-like. His expression was difficult to read, but his voice was firm and calm.


    ¡°It is indeed an unparalleled treasure,¡± he said. ¡°And I am happy to return it to you and the Church, where it belongs. But I cannot take responsibility for its finding. That honor lies with Aras Rapidian, High Master of the Brethren of the Dawn. He deserves your thanks, not I.¡±


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    He gestured to his left, where a small man sat, quietly contemplating the priests behind round spectacles. The priests all bowed and murmured thanks, and the man raised a hand.


    ¡°I hope you will no longer cling to your doubts,¡± he said, and though he spoke quietly, it seemed as though his words pierced through everything in the room. Mira felt them within and around her.


    ¡°I hope this will serve as additional proof that your prince had nothing to do with the attack in the Citadel,¡± the man continued, and every ear listened attentively. ¡°He has returned the Heartstone to you with no malice. Take it, and the intention in which it was given.¡±


    Rhoden stirred. ¡°May the grace of Ennis rest on you, and your endeavors.¡±


    The priests bowed again and thanked both Rhoden and the man at his side for the return of their precious stone. They placed the crystal carefully within a padded wooden box, and then exited the chamber, their soft sandals making hardly a noise on the stone floor. One of them looked keenly at Mira as he passed, and she realized with a shock that it was the caramel-haired priest who had dispersed the mob within the Citadel and who had kept Biani safe on the night of the attack. He smiled swiftly at her, and then was gone with the rest.


    Rhoden spoke quietly with the man at his side for a moment, and when they were done, the man rose and left. As he passed Mira, she met his eyes beneath the spectacles. For a moment, she had a feeling of utter powerlessness beneath his gaze. It was as though she was frozen, not with fear, but with awe at the sheer amount of power she saw. She saw power and strength and deep sadness through it all, with a darkness at the edge. At the same time, she knew that he was looking at her with the same intensity, reading her soul as though it were the pages of a book.


    Then, he walked past Mira, leaving her to wonder who, exactly, he was. She had the odd feeling that this man was like the ones from the old stories: mysterious as Tor and strong as Ren. Capable of fantastic feats of magic, able to bring armies to their knees or raise a tower from the ashes, if he so desired. The thought simultaneously thrilled and terrified her. She turned to watch him go, but caught only the glimpse of the back of his head as he left the chamber.


    Mira composed herself as Rhoden¡¯s attention shifted to her and invited her to step forward. The chair at his side had been filled by Lord Crasmere, the High Chamberlain of the Council of Lords. The elderly man smiled kindly at Mira, and she returned the gesture. A couple of other chairs were filled with other men, men she assumed were a part of the Council, though she did not know their names. There was an older man with a long, drooping face, and a middle-aged man with short, curling hair.


    ¡°Lady Miriandri,¡± said Prince Rhoden, and the use of her full name made Mira¡¯s stomach twist. She remembered how she had told him to call her Mira, but now she was unsure whether he used it for sake of propriety, or another reason entirely. In the moment, she wasn¡¯t sure which she preferred from him.


    ¡°We have some questions for you, if you are agreeable to answer them,¡± Rhoden continued, looking down at Mira seriously.


    She swallowed. ¡°Of course,¡± she said.


    ¡°Then I will not waste our time with meaningless conversation,¡± he said, and he learned forward. ¡°After the attack on the Citadel, nearly every member of the Mesian party left and returned to Mesia. Yet you remained. Why?¡±


    Mira eyed him critically. Surely, someone must have told him the reason? How could he not know why she had stayed?


    ¡°My youngest sister, Biani, was left behind in the chaos,¡± she said, speaking firmly. ¡°I remained with her, so that she would not be alone.¡±


    ¡°That is very good,¡± said Rhoden, ¡°but, forgive me, my Lady. I do not believe that is the true reason you stayed.¡±


    Mira¡¯s face flushed. ¡°Why not?¡± she challenged.


    ¡°Your sister would have been returned to your family at once, had we found her. We would not have kept her a captive. However, because you decided to stay, your fates are, for the moment, sealed.¡±


    Mira felt her face grow even warmer. ¡°I see,¡± she said through gritted teeth.


    ¡°So I ask again,¡± said Rhoden, his tone relentless. ¡°Why did you stay behind when the rest of your family left?¡±


    She took a deep breath, calming her irritation. ¡°I was also worried about Prince Cael. I wanted to care for him and make sure he was all right.¡±


    Rhoden seemed to ponder her words for a moment, resting his chin on his hand. Then, to her annoyance, he spoke again.


    ¡°I understand your concern for my brother,¡± he said. ¡°There is not a person in Aleria who does not wish him a swift recovery. And, as you were to be his wife, you are perhaps more intimately tied to him than any of us have a right to claim. But we have some of the best physicians in all the lands. They are equipped to handle every medical situation. They do not require assistance.¡± He looked hard at Mira, his eyes dark and unreadable. ¡°Why did you stay?¡±


    ¡°Your Highness,¡± interrupted Lord Crasmere, his long face tight with distress. ¡°I would advise against this line of questioning. Lady Miriandri has already given her reasons. I doubt there is more information she can give us.¡±


    He thinks it¡¯s our fault, Mira realized with a flash. The attack on the Citadel, the monster, Garazor¡¯s death. He thinks Mesia is to blame.


    Prince Rhoden spoke quietly. ¡°In this moment, Lord Crasmere, I will eliminate nothing to find the culprit.¡±


    Mira¡¯s irritation grew into anger, and once again she felt the loathing she had felt inside the Citadel two nights before. She glared up at Rhoden, and though her father had always cautioned her from speaking words in anger, she no longer cared about propriety.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already said that Mesia was not to blame for the death of the king¡± she said, speaking slowly at first, but with every word moving more quickly. ¡°My father and great-uncle confirmed this. I do not like to be doubted for the sincerity of everything I say! I have spoken the truth, and I expect to be believed.¡± She took a breath, and her anger came suddenly on her in a rush. ¡°You ask why I stayed, Prince Rhoden?¡± she snapped. ¡°Yes, it is for my sister and Cael, but it is also for you. I do not believe that you are as innocent in this as you claim, and I think you know exactly what I mean.¡±


    Rhoden looked taken aback. He lowered his hand, but kept his gaze fixed firmly on her. Mira was so angry that she felt she couldn¡¯t control what came out of her mouth.


    ¡°I stayed in Aleria because I don¡¯t trust you,¡± she continued hotly. ¡°I don¡¯t think that the attack at the Citadel was an accident, and I wouldn¡¯t trust you to lead this kingdom, not if you were the last person in it!¡±


    Her voice rang through the air, leaving the small audience in stunned silence. Rhoden stared at her, his face inscrutable. Then, inexplicably, he laughed softly.


    ¡°Is that all?¡± he said, his eyes sparkling with humor. ¡°Lady Mira, I do not trust myself to lead this kingdom. I know I have not the talent or the skills, but it is good for me to hear that others share my same doubts. I consider myself very fortunate to have counsellors whom I admire at my side, and whose advice I can receive.¡± He turned his head to the left. ¡°Though, my apologies, Lord Crasmere, for not heeding your warning. I should have left the questioning lie.¡±


    Mira felt the heat of anger still in her, though a part of her was now confused and unsure. Rhoden gave her a small smile.


    ¡°If your reason for staying is because you do not trust that I am who I say I am, then you may find yourself in a numerous company,¡± he said. ¡°That seems to be the opinion of a great many. I hope, with time, that opinion may prove itself to be false.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t cause the attack on the Citadel?¡± Mira asked bluntly.


    Rhoden shook his head. ¡°There is a third party, one which neither side was aware of. We do not yet know its motives, but its power and capacity for destruction is very clear. My uncle left to track it down and Lord Rapidian, whom you just saw, is to join him in his search. I trust that we will soon have a resolution to this conflict, and that both Aleria and Mesia will learn and see the truth for themselves.¡±


    He looked kindly at her. ¡°I do not blame you for fearing me,¡± he said. ¡°But please never doubt my sincerity. I will never doubt yours again.¡±


    Mira gave a curt nod of the head, then listened as Lord Crasmere began to speak. He explained her situation to her, noting that she and Biani were, in fact, prisoners of the state. Because no fault could be placed on their heads, they were not imprisoned as criminals but were restricted to the palace and grounds, to be escorted by a guard at all times for their safety. He made it clear that Aleria wanted no quarrel with Mesia, and that if their king were to demand for their return, Aleria would bring them safely home.


    ¡°If Mesia wishes to continue the treaty, once the truth of the matter is made known, then we will gladly accept it,¡± said Lord Crasmere. ¡°The treaty was the labor of several lifetimes and it would be an everlasting shame to eradicate it completely. As a Council, we will work towards that as our goal, and we would ask for your help as well. If you believe your country would see it in their best interest to continue forward with the treaty, then we ask that you do what is in your power to help it move forward.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do what I can,¡± she promised.


    Then, Rhoden gave her a invitation to dinner that night, and the meeting was over. Mira curtsied low and departed, her anger now completely gone. She wondered, as she walked through the long room and her guard fell into step behind her, why it had been so important to Rhoden to know her reason for staying, if her answer had not affected him very much.

 Chapter 10 - Salt and Silver Pt. 1

    Rhoden stood at the window of one of his private chambers, holding a letter in his hand. The mid-morning sky was cloudy, but he had an unimpeded view of the city of Torran, splayed out below him. Roofs and smoking chimneys spread for many miles down the sides of the hill on which the city was built, and beyond the city wall, the first signs of green were beginning to grow in the fields. He looked past them, to the forest that carpeted much of the valley, and out to the horizon, where the dark peaks of the mountains hemmed the kingdom in their bounds.


    This was one of those times, he contemplated, where what he saw outside the window reflected his own mood. Fair weather, yet cloudy above. Open fields and wide forests, yet dark ominous mountains in the distance. The juxtaposition was fitting.


    The letter in his hand was from his uncle, written in a firm hand and delivered to Rhoden just an hour before. He had opened and read it hungrily, desperate for news. It was two days since his father¡¯s funeral¡ªthree since Horst had left to search after the dreaded Seranach. But if Rhoden had hoped for good news, he was disappointed.


    The letter was written on two pages, the first of which was addressed to Prince Rhoden and the Alerian Council of Lords¡ª


    In it, Horst detailed what had happened over the last couple of days. He and Derrick Soraldson followed the trail of the Seranach as it had left the city. Sadly, it seemed the the work of death had not ended in the Citadel. They had come across a horrible sight in the village of Denrost, about a half day¡¯s journey from Torran¡ªalmost the entire population of the little village had been slaughtered and left to rot in the street. The wounds were consistent with those found on the victims of the Citadel, and Horst concluded that they must be from the beast.


    After alerting the local guard, they continued. From Denrost, the trail turned north, and they would follow it, with the sole purpose of stopping more violence before it happened. Horst¡¯s tone was grim, but in the end, he expressed his confidence that the beast would be found, and soon. They felt they were drawing ever closer as each day progressed.


    The second page was written to Rhoden alone.


    Nephew, it read. Do not let your heart be troubled by these bitter tidings. There is a time to grieve the dead, and a time to celebrate the living. The task to hunt this beast falls to me, and I will carry it out as my sacred duty, whatever perils may lie in my path. Gather those around you whom you trust. Rapidian can help to judge their sincerity. Be strong, Nephew. I will return soon.


    Rhoden held the papers loosely in his hand and stared out the window. He was grateful for the news, and for his uncle¡¯s encouragement, but a gloom settled around him like thick fog. So many people, dead. They had received word at the palace, almost simultaneous to the arrival of the letter, of the slaughter of Denrost and it had seemed mysterious at first. To know that it was a direct attack of the Seranach upon innocent lives brought a deep sorrow into Rhoden¡¯s heart. They did not deserve to die, much as his father had not, nor Cael to sustain such grievous injuries.


    He had finally gone to visit his brother, late the night before, when he had awoken and could no longer sleep. Through the darkened passageways of the palace, Rhoden moved like a phantom, barely visible but for the whites of his eyes. Cael¡¯s rooms had been dark and nearly empty, and it had been a simple task to pass by the sleeping physicians unnoticed.


    Cael lay in his bed, a silent, prone figure, bereft of the life and joy that so defined him. His golden hair was covered by winding bandages around his head. In the dim light of glowing coals in the hearth, his skin was as pale as the linen sheets beneath him and his cheeks were sunken.


    Rhoden had been surprised but did not wonder to find Mira with him. She sat slumped over in a chair next to Cael¡¯s side, her head and arms resting on the bed. Her chest rose and fell with the rhythm of sleep. One of her hands rested lightly on Cael¡¯s arm.


    Rhoden had remained in the shadows, watching quietly from the corner. As he had imagined, his courage seemed to fail him. To see Cael so helpless, so still, brought him to the very throes of despair. How could he possibly continue, when his brother was so altered?


    Because I must, a part of him said, and his stooping shoulders straightened. Cael would not give in to grief and anguish. Neither will I.


    Before he left, he had taken a moment to contemplate Mira¡¯s sleeping form. He wondered within himself whether he had been right to question her so harshly that day. It was not that he doubted her loyalty to Cael¡ªthat, he thought, had been obvious for anyone with eyes to see the love they had for one another. He believed her when she said that she had stayed for her sister, as well, but there had been a part of him that had known there was a deeper reason, and for some twisted reason, he had wanted to hear it from her own lips.


    He did not blame Mira for fearing or scorning him. It was hardly different from how Lord Hestran had acted towards him, though lacking the vitriol. He could not feel shame for himself¡ª he had wanted to know Mira¡¯s mind; and, now that he did and no more mystery remained, it did not make his task any easier.


    Rhoden mentally pulled himself from Cael¡¯s sick room and once again stared out of the window. Though the sun fell shining through the clouds above, he could not truly enjoy the beauty of the new day. There were too many problems facing him to contemplate. He let them run through his mind without dwelling on the details: his father¡¯s death, and the Dryr assassin behind it; Mira staying in Aleria; the prison of the Dryr and the Arnyr who guarded them; Cael¡¯s illness; his uncle leaving; himself to be crowned in less than a month¡¯s time. The thoughts passed along like long- neglected paintings on a wall, dark and mysterious.


    As he thought, he fingered a cool silver chain in his pocket. He had not forgotten the key his father had given him as his last mortal act. Carlton had placed it on a cushion beside his bed the night after the attack, along with the knife Rhoden had left in the Citadel. The silver crowns of the royal family had all been cleaned and returned to the treasury.


    Rhoden withdrew the chain from his pocket, and, setting the letter aside, inspected the key in the bright morning light. He had already done so a half dozen times, and was no closer to an answer as to what it unlocked than he had been three nights ago. It was dark and intricate, no bigger than the tip of his pointer finger. He guessed it was to some private chest or lockbox of his father, and had set Carlton to the task, but as proud as his valet was of his ability, he had not found what it unlocked.


    The key glinted as it swung on the chain, an almost taunting sight. Rhoden knew that it was important, or rather, that whatever it unlocked was important. The look in his dying father¡¯s eyes had told him as much. When his mind was not caught in his own gloom, Rhoden wondered what it could be. Perhaps it was treasure to aid the kingdom. Perhaps secret correspondence between the king and some other dignitary that it was vital Rhoden know.


    There was a part of him that wished it would be something else. Letters, perhaps even journals, that would reveal Garazor¡¯s mind. Rhoden had set the palace steward over ordering the documents and possessions of his father, and so far very little personal writings had been found. Garazor had been a private man, and it was possible he had never kept an account of days. Rhoden was quickly becoming aware of just how busy life as a king was. Although the people were still in deep mourning, the business of the kingdom must continue. Even now, the Council was being summoned, to discuss the matter of Denrost and of Horst¡¯s update. Rhoden expected a great deal more would be examined as well.


    He thrust the key back into his pocket, frustrated. It held the promise of information, of learning a secret, and he was annoyed that the answer was not forthcoming. This surprised him a little; all his life, he had been dedicated to study, to finding out an answer through searching and exploring. Now, all of a sudden, his emotions rose within him until they rose to anger. He did not want to wait for an answer. He wanted it now.


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    His anger betrayed a deeper fear: that the promises made to him would not be fulfilled. He felt surrounded by them, drowning in them. Promises his father and brother had made and had not kept. Though that was not through a fault of their own, Rhoden could not help but assign the same despair he felt to the other promises made him: that Rapidian would come with help, that his uncle would return. The anger and despair roiled through him like fire, and though he tried to quell it, it was a task not easily done.


    When Carlton came a few minutes later and informed Rhoden that the Council was now waiting for his arrival, it was his anger that spoke.


    ¡°Can¡¯t you see I¡¯m busy?¡± he snapped. ¡°I¡¯ll come when I¡¯m ready.¡±


    Then, seeing his valet¡¯s shocked face, his anger died and shame rose to take its place.


    ¡°I apologize, Carlton,¡± he said, his face hot with embarrassment. ¡°I¡­am not myself today. Lead on.¡±


    But Carlton, before he accepted the apology with a curt nod, gave Rhoden a look of deep dislike, which remained in his mind, even as the other man turned and left the room.


    <hr>


    The Council accepted Horst¡¯s letter without much surprise. Now that the news of Denrost was spreading through the capital, people once again were walking cautiously in the streets, unwilling to leave their homes but for the utmost need. The threat of the Seranach was very real and very near, and Rhoden could see in the eyes of his lords that they, too, believed the danger was not past.


    A general agreement went along the table that it was in the best interest of everyone in Aleria¡ªand Mesia, tangentially¡ªto find the beast as quickly as possible. To Rhoden¡¯s dismay, several of the lords, including Lord Hestran and Lord Astrall, once again voiced their doubts as to his uncle¡¯s ability to finish the task, and the role Aras Rapidian played in it all. He was frustrated. Even after the witness of their own eyes, and Rapidian¡¯s report to them, they were still unwilling to believe him.


    Rhoden did his best to allay their fears, vouching personally for the character of both men, but he knew that those who spoke their doubts were not satisfied. There was further tension when the conversation switched to the Heartstone, and the returning of it to the Ennist priests. Lord Hestran, as Rhoden came to expect of him, was the loudest in his objections.


    ¡°And how, pray tell, did the Heartstone come to be in your possession, Prince Rhoden?¡± he asked, and many of the lords around him nodded. ¡°The Brother Rapdann, or whatever his name is, claimed that the beast took the Heartstone to its master. If that is true, how did you come by it?¡±


    Rhoden tried to explain how Rapidian had found it in the streets of the city, but this brought merely scoffs and suspicious looks from most everyone around the table. He thought he knew their minds, and where this line of thinking was taking them. For if they believed Rapidian¡¯s words, even if they doubted his character, that the beast was to take the Heartstone to its master, then the obvious connection was that Rhoden had controlled the beast. He clenched his fists beneath the table and forced his anger down. No. He would not be who they thought him to be.


    But try as he might, he would not be able to convince everyone.


    ¡°This, gentlemen,¡± said Lord Hestran in a booming voice, ¡°is the man you would crown king.¡± And he sat back, looking around the table with small, beady eyes, as the men muttered darkly to one another. Rhoden kept his jaw tight and his shoulders straight. He ignored the whispers, as though he could not hear them.


    He was grateful when Lord Crasmere took control of the Council, and the meeting turned to other matters.


    ¡°We must discuss what is to become of Aleria in the future,¡± the elderly man said. He bowed to Rhoden and continued. ¡°With King Garazor gone, and a new heir to the throne, there are many things we must determine.¡±


    For the next two hours, the circle of men around the table talked about the many problems now facing the kingdom, and how best to solve them. Foremost among these was that of the poor village of Denrost¡ªwhat provisions to send, and how to arrange the burial. As the village fell within the confines of Lord Wallrick¡¯s lands, the task was given to him to settle the arrangements. He accepted graciously and wrote his orders slowly with a shaking hand. Brother Lamb pledged several priests to the duty, Rhoden promised a squadron of the King¡¯s Guard, and the orders were sent quickly out to their respective parties via squires.


    The Council also determined that a proclamation be sent out, warning all of the threat of the terrible Seranach. Until the beast could be subdued, the lords felt it best to make preparations to guard against future attacks. Rhoden remembered Rapidian¡¯s words and suggested that salt and silver be used in whatever protections were to be made. In this, Brother Lamb agreed.


    ¡°Salt and silver were traditionally used to ward off evil,¡± he said. ¡°They are the two things most close to Ennis and his glory. No doubt their inclusion will be of great worth.¡±


    In the proclamation was also added that Rhoden was to be crowned king in four weeks¡¯ time, and that he had been found worthy and clean before the lords and before Ennis. Lord Hestran objected to this being added, but Lord Crasmere, backed by Wallrick and Croftin Meran and several others, insisted that this information was vital to send out.


    Then, the conversation turned to more pressing matters, namely that of Mesia and the treaty. It was now known that every Mesian, aside from a handful of priests who had been injured by the mob in the center of Torran, and the ladies Miriandri and Biani Escallon, had fled back down the Plattanar Valley and out of the mountains into Mesia. The majority of the lords saw this as proof that the treaty was broken and void.


    ¡°If the Mesians were innocent in the attack, why did they flee?¡± Lord Redes asked, his round face dark with suspicion.


    ¡°I imagine they feared for their lives, as much as we did for ours,¡± Rhoden responded quietly.


    ¡°They perhaps thought we were behind the attack,¡± Lord Crasmere said. ¡°They do not know what we do about the Brethren of the Dawn and their mission to hunt the beast. As soon as we have word from them, we must make this clear.¡±


    ¡°How do we know that Sebastt will not respond as he has in the past?¡± Lord Ignatus asked. ¡°If he believes the attack was directed at him, or his retinue, then perhaps he will think it was an act of war.¡±


    ¡°Lady Mira has promised to help as she can,¡± Rhoden said. ¡°She has written to her father, and we hope that the messenger will overtake them, ere they reach the capital. Lord Escallon has great influence in the Mesian court. If he believes what she has written, he may be able to convince the king that no violence was intended towards him.¡±


    ¡°Fool girl,¡± Lord Hestran hissed. ¡°She doesn¡¯t know what she has started, staying behind as she did.¡±


    Rhoden frowned at him. ¡°What do you mean, my lord?¡±


    ¡°Only this: there is already a rumor spreading that she was held back against her will. No matter what she writes to her father, some in Mesia may not believe it. There are those here in the city who already do not.¡±


    ¡°I think it would therefore be prudent,¡± said Lord Crasmere, ¡°to offer the ladies and the Thalist priests back to Mesia as soon as can be arranged, as proof that we bear them no ill and as a sign of good faith.¡±


    ¡°What about the treaty?¡± Lord Wallrick asked, raising his slow eyes from the tabletop, which he had been inspecting. ¡°Is there no hope there?¡±


    Lord Crasmere looked swiftly at Rhoden, then away. ¡°The treaty may need to wait before it can again be discussed with Mesia. Inner problems must be resolved before outer problems. Once the beast is captured and we are certain Mesia has no violent intentions towards us, then we may consider it again. Until that time, I am afraid the best we can do is sharpen our swords and pray we do not have to use them.¡±


    The meeting ended on this gloomy note, and Rhoden rose to leave. Lord Crasmere, however, held him back.


    ¡°A word, my Lord,¡± he said, and Rhoden stayed.


    ¡°I have a personal request from the Lady Miriandri that requires your approval,¡± Lord Crasmere said, pulling out a small paper that had been folded artfully. Rhoden looked curiously at it. The High Chamberlain looked almost embarrassed to have it in his hand.


    ¡°I would normally take care of such matters on my own, but under the circumstances, I thought it best to bring it to you,¡± he said, and gave the paper to Rhoden.


    As he read Mira¡¯s flowing writing, Rhoden¡¯s heartbeat quickened.

 Chapter 10 - Salt and Silver Pt. 2

    Dinner that night was a quiet affair. Rhoden invited Croftin Meran and Issa Roth to join them, as they had become the companions of himself and Mira and her sister. As they waited in a sitting room for the food to be set, they spoke of the decisions of the Council, and expressed their dismay at the slaughter of Denrost. Mira¡¯s sister watched the conversation with big, silent eyes.


    ¡°Is there nothing we can do?¡± Mira asked, her face pained. ¡°Those poor people.¡±


    ¡°Lord Wallrick and Brother Lamb of the Ennist Church have it in hand,¡± said Rhoden. ¡°I¡¯m certain they would not begrudge more help, but¡ª¡± He broke off, feeling awkward. ¡°Perhaps you would not be interested in helping, as you are Thalist.¡±


    ¡°Of course I¡¯m interested,¡± Mira retorted. ¡°Why would I not be? These people were to have been my subjects, as much as yours or Cael¡¯s.¡± Her eyes were alight with the dislike he was coming to know was reserved especially for himself.


    Rhoden was spared an answer, however, for at that moment a servant came to summon them to the table. Once they were seated, Rhoden leaned slightly toward Mira, who sat on his left.


    ¡°Forgive me,¡± he said quietly. ¡°I did not mean to offend. The matter is in your hands, of course, how you decide to help those in need.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said in a curt voice, looking away.


    He paused, then said, ¡°Lord Crasmere gave me your request.¡±


    Her eyes turned back to him, startled. ¡°I thought¡ªhe would address it on his own,¡± she said.


    Rhoden nodded his head. ¡°He asked for my approval, and I wanted to tell you in person that I have given it.¡±


    Mira looked to her side at her sister, who was chatting happily with Croftin across the table. Rhoden followed her gaze, and understood the love she felt. It was the same he always felt in Cael¡¯s presence.


    Mira¡¯s request had been to allow herself and her sister to ride their horses daily. She suggested that an escort always be present, and that they would remain in the king¡¯s lands¡ªthe hills and forests that spread out behind the palace and into the mountains beyond. Crasmere had explained to Rhoden that he was unsure whether the decision to grant Mira¡¯s request was wise, under the circumstances, but Rhoden sensed that there was no ill intent behind it. Seeing Mira¡¯s face soften, he knew he had been correct.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Mira whispered. She sniffed and then spoke more firmly, looking Rhoden in the eyes. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said. ¡°We will be grateful for the distraction. Biani, especially. She has always loved horses more than anything in the world.¡±


    Rhoden¡¯s heart swelled, and he gave her a smile. Perhaps he had offended her, in his questioning yesterday, but he had hope that the rift between them could be mended. This had seemed like a step in the right direction, and he was gratified to see it confirmed.


    Servants moved forward and laid dinner before the five of them. Tonight was a thick cream soup, which Rhoden eagerly dipped his spoon into. It had been a long day and he was famished. After his first mouthful, however, he stopped, dismayed. There was something very wrong with the soup.


    He swallowed his mouthful with difficulty and looked swiftly around the table. No one else seemed to have trouble with their soups, and ate vigorously. Rhoden chanced another spoonful, regretting it immediately, and reached for his glass. As he drank, he realized that his was the only soup to have been altered. His face grew hot.


    With careful movements, he replaced his spoon, then stood, causing everyone around the table to rise with him. Biani cast him a curious look for interrupting them in the middle of a meal.


    ¡°Forgive me for disturbing you,¡± Rhoden said. ¡°But I am afraid I must leave. There is an urgent matter to which I must attend.¡±


    They watched him go with hardly a word, and he left quickly. At the door, he gathered his small squadron of the King¡¯s Guard and began to make his way toward the kitchens. His mouth smarted from the bitter taste of the soup, and he swallowed several times, trying to rid himself of it.


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    The kitchens were located at the south of the palace, and though Rhoden had not been there since his childhood, he knew the way well. As they grew closer, smells of cream soup and freshly baked bread wafted through the air. Rhoden¡¯s stomach growled.


    He left the guards at the door and entered alone. The kitchens had changed little in the years since he had last been. Large tables and counters were covered in flour and the remnants of bread dough. The whitewashed walls were hung with pans and pots and dried herbs. In one corner gaped the ovens: three deep stone mouths that were constantly in use. In another corner were the doors to the pantry, the buttery, and large storerooms that lay beneath the ground. A fire crackled merrily in an open fireplace along the far wall, and a wide door opened to a courtyard and herb garden beyond.


    Before the fire was a table, around which several people sat. As Rhoden entered, they all stood, and many eyed him warily. The largest man was Lem, the palace cook. He was broad-shouldered, with graying brown hair, and had the slight paunch of a cook who loves his job. When he saw Rhoden, he let out a booming laugh.


    ¡°Well, bless my beard!¡± he cried, moving forward and bowing. ¡°If it isn¡¯t Prince Rhoden himself!¡±


    The rest of his staff stood well away, but Rhoden ignored them.


    ¡°Hello, Lem,¡± he said with a smile. ¡°It¡¯s been a long time.¡±


    ¡°It certainly has!¡± Lem agreed. ¡°And you, my boy, have changed a great deal. Stand here! Let me take a look at you.¡±


    He stretched to his full height, which was half a head shorter than Rhoden, and scrutinized him from head to toe. Rhoden let him, smiling. It was certainly nice to be around someone who didn¡¯t treat him as though he would bring the world to an untimely end. Lem had always accepted him, for as long as he could remember. He was slightly ashamed that he had not visited for so long, but he stood tall, letting Lem¡¯s eyes rove up and down.


    ¡°Well, you certainly have your father¡¯s height,¡± he commented wryly. ¡°And your mother¡¯s bearing.¡± His jolly face fell. ¡°Forgive me for mentioning them. I miss them. Dearly.¡±


    ¡°As do I,¡± Rhoden said softly.


    ¡°But you¡¯re so skinny!¡± Lem continued, forgetting his grief and poking at Rhoden¡¯s belly. ¡°What did the scholars feed you in Tellegar, sticks?¡±


    Rhoden laughed. ¡°They are not as talented as you, Lem. They do not have your resources, or your staff.¡±


    ¡°And a right bunch of reprobates they are,¡± Lem said, turning to scowl at them. ¡°I don¡¯t know why I keep them around.¡± But his eyes twinkled, and a few of the maids grinned back.


    Then, the red-cheeked man looked back at Rhoden, his expression suddenly suspicious.


    ¡°Why are you here, Rhoden?¡± he asked. ¡°We just sent dinner away upstairs. You should be eating with the others.¡± His brow darkened. ¡°Was there something wrong? Did Dell spill soup on the carpet again?¡±


    ¡°Nothing that grievous,¡± said Rhoden, smiling, but Lem caught the hesitation in his voice.


    ¡°Over here,¡± he said, and ushered Rhoden to the other side of the room, out of earshot of his staff. He looked very seriously into Rhoden¡¯s face. ¡°What is it?¡± he asked.


    Rhoden took a deep breath. ¡°Lem, someone salted my soup. Or, well, over salted it. I could tell right away that mine was the only affected bowl. I was targeted. I don¡¯t think it is due to any fault of yours,¡± he added quickly, seeing Lem¡¯s face grow redder by the moment. ¡°Someone else is clearly to blame.¡±


    ¡°It could have been any one of my miscreants,¡± Lem growled, glaring in earnest at the men and women now sitting around the table, eating in relative silence. ¡°It would be easy for them to slip in extra salt. Or for anyone who had access to your food before it was served.¡± He looked at Rhoden, his normally kind eyes drawn tight with anger. ¡°I will dismiss anyone who does not approve of your rule,¡± he said fiercely. ¡°If they wish to express their anger by ruining my food, they can do so, but not for you. I will not stand for it.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Rhoden, though internally he knew that the reason was not necessarily that anyone disapproved of him being king. Whoever had ruined his food had specifically used salt, one of the elements used to banish Shadows. It was deliberate and targeted, and he was at a loss as to who could have done it. Any number of servants had access to the food as it went from the kitchens to the dining rooms, and when questioned, they would most likely deny any part in the plot.


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep my eyes open,¡± he said, and Lem promised to do the same. ¡°But I would appreciate if this is kept quiet, Lem. I don¡¯t want news of this to spread.¡±


    Lem harrumphed, but did not argue. ¡°You won¡¯t leave my kitchens hungry,¡± he said, moving to fill a bowl of soup and a platter of bread. ¡°If it ever happens again, come and tell me. You¡¯ll always have a meal here. But if you¡¯re concerned about keeping this on the low down, you give me a message and I¡¯ll send it to your rooms. Just so you have the privacy you want.¡±


    Rhoden smiled. ¡°Thank you, Lem,¡± he said, then after making the arrangements, left the kitchens with the hearty promise of good food awaiting him.

 Chapter 11 - Tread Carefully Pt. 1

    Mira sat astride her horse and breathed in the rich spring air. She felt a measure of the tension she so often carried with her these days melt away. The morning was brisk and clear. The forested path wound ahead as a brown line through a burst of greenery and the gray trunks of ancient trees. The back of her horse was solid and comforting beneath her. Several feet ahead, a lone guard rode in silence.


    Biani trotted up to her side, red hair already escaping the maid¡¯s attempt to control it. She grimaced.


    ¡°Mira, you¡¯re so slow today!¡± she said, complaining.


    ¡°I¡¯m just enjoying the morning,¡± Mira murmured, smiling back.


    ¡°Let¡¯s race to the top of that hill,¡± Biani said, shifting the reigns in her hands so that she held them more tightly. She motioned her head toward where the path rose out of sight and grinned. ¡°Ready?¡±


    Mira turned her head to look at the other guard escort riding behind them. ¡°I don¡¯t think that would be a very good idea,¡± she said, but too late. Biani kicked her horse forward with a laugh and began to canter away. After a second of hesitation, Mira followed.


    They passed the guard ahead within moments. He cried out, but the two sisters ignored him, flashing by. Soon, Mira drew level with Biani and together the two of them climbed the hill. At the last moment, Biani drew ahead, and they reigned in at the crest, laughing.


    ¡°That¡¯s how our morning rides should be,¡± Biani said. ¡°I¡¯m tired of the forest. I want the fields.¡±


    Mira smiled, glancing back at the guards, who were nearly upon them. ¡°I know,¡± she said. ¡°But for the time being, the forest is what we get.¡±


    The guards gave them a stern lecture about how they were never to pass them again, and then their party made their way back down the mountain and through the forest toward the palace. Mira felt the joy from the ride fade slowly as they descended. This was the one time each day that she could escape from the oppressive stone walls of the palace and the endless worry they brought her.


    Though it was now several days from the attack at the Citadel, Cael had not improved. Every day, it seemed he slept longer and longer, hardly waking at all. Mira heard the worried whispers of the physicians and felt her heart break like porcelain as Cael¡¯s cheeks grew more and more sunken with each passing hour. He barely ate, and his sleep was often restless. As the days passed, so it seemed his will to live deteriorated along with his body.


    Mira had begun her vigil over Cael with hope, but that hope was now a fragile thing. It took all of her will to keep it alive.


    She tried not to think about the future, or the despair it brought her. They had not yet heard from Mesia, or her father, and she did not know whether to trust that an answer would come. The Mesian kings were known for jumping to conclusions and solving disputes with violence. She prayed nightly that it would not come to war, but she did not know how to prevent it. Each moment she remained in Aleria seemed like a mistake. But she was in no position to do anything about it. The fact that she and Biani must be escorted for a morning ride was proof that they had no power within this court.


    Her mood thoroughly soured, she did not notice Prince Rhoden until they were nearly on top of him. They were once again within the walls of the palace grounds, almost to the stables. Rhoden and his retinue, of which Croftin Meran was a part, moved off the path to allow room for the horses.


    ¡°My apologies, ladies,¡± Rhoden said, bowing low. ¡°I trust your ride was invigorating this morning?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes!¡± Biani said with enthusiasm.


    Mira simply nodded her head but said nothing. There was an awkward pause, and then both parties continued on their separate ways. When they reached the stables and grooms came forward to help them dismount, Biani moved to Mira¡¯s side.


    ¡°Why were you so rude?¡± she demanded. ¡°It was just a question. You should have answered him.¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡±


    Mira was at a loss for words. The indignant look on her sister¡¯s face gave her pause. She had been wrapped up in the gloom of her own thoughts, and that, mixed with her wariness of Prince Rhoden, had caused the too-familiar dislike to well up inside of her. But she found that she no longer felt that dislike as strongly as she had. She had spurned him merely out of habit.


    Yes, she had been offended when he had questioned her so forcefully about her reason to stay, but over the past several days she had observed that there didn¡¯t seem to be any guile in his words or actions. She assumed this was because he had never been raised within the royal court, for this kind of behavior from a courtesan was rare, indeed. Her first instinct was to be surprised by this revelation, but then she remembered how often Cael had written about his brother, and the high praise he had given. He had always said that Rhoden was unlike anyone he had ever known, and not because of the color of his skin.


    Deep shame rose up in her and her cheeks flushed. Why was she continuing to reject someone who was proving to be as guiltless as he claimed? He had denied all connection to the beast who had killed his father, and the Ennist priests had confirmed it. Although she was not of their faith, she wanted to believe that their conclusion was true. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed that Prince Rhoden was, indeed, merely the victim of circumstance, as horribly coincidental as that might seem.


    She looked back down at Biani, who was still gazing at her with anger in her eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll try to be better. I won¡¯t be rude to him any more.¡±


    Biani nodded her head once and turned away. ¡°You know, he¡¯s not as scary as everyone at home said he would be,¡± she said, pulling off her gloves. ¡°He looks funny, but that¡¯s not his fault. He¡¯s actually really nice.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Mira murmured. ¡°Yes, he is.¡±


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    Later that day, she received both pieces of news she had been longing for. A letter was waiting for them after she and Biani returned from their ride. Biani eagerly tore it open and crowed, ¡°It¡¯s from Father!¡±


    Mira took the letter and read it through quickly. Though long-expected, it was very short.


    Dearest daughters, it read.


    We trust that you are together and safe. Mother worries after you, as is her right. We pray daily for your safety. We have arrived home and are working constantly on a way to bring you back to us. With the grace of Thalas, this will be soon.


    All our love,


    Father


    The letter awoke a homesickness within Mira that she had not expected. In her mind¡¯s eye, she saw the neat stone manor that had always been her home, saw the round figure of her mother pacing back and forth along the dining room floor, heard the sounds of her sisters playing instruments in the rooms above, smelled fresh bread wafting in from the kitchen. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.


    Biani bit her lip, evidently trying not to cry herself. ¡°I miss them,¡± she whispered.


    Mira drew her in close. ¡°I do, too.¡± For a moment, the two of them held one another and mourned the separation from their family.


    Then, Biani frowned and stooped down, picking something off the ground.


    ¡°It¡¯s for you,¡± she said, handing a smaller note to Mira, which had been wrapped inside the first note. Her name was written in their father¡¯s hand across the top. With shaking hands, Mira opened it to find cramped writing filling its entirety.


    Dear Heart,


    Things go poorly in the court, more poorly than we could have anticipated. As this letter is to travel with the King¡¯s missive, I am sure you will soon learn what I mean, if you have not already. My uncle is in a rage unlike any I have ever seen, not even when Basti left. Please tread carefully, daughter. Do not act rashly or without great consideration of the consequences. Keep Biani safe. We hope to see you both home soon.


    Father


    The letter occupied the rest of their morning. They discussed it, thought of possible ways to get back home, and wondered how long it would take. Then Mira suggested that they both write and assure their family that they were well, and Biani scuttled away, eager to find pen and paper..


    Mira was in the middle of composing an answer back to her father, explaining their situation and her belief that Rhoden was innocent in the attack, when a summons came for her to join the Alerian Council of Lords. Biani continued to write her own letter carefully as Issa Roth promised Mira she would be well looked after.


    Though she had only been present for one meeting of the lords¡ªshortly before she was to have been married¡ªthe feeling of this one was drastically different. There was palpable tension as she entered the room. The lords muttered to each other across the long rectangular table, or in groups in the corners of the room. Lord Crasmere welcomed Mira warmly and sat her on the right hand of the carved chair where Prince Rhoden would sit. A moment later he arrived, took his seat, and the meeting began.


    The only item of business was the missive from King Sebastt which Mira¡¯s father had alluded to. Mira felt her heartbeat quicken as Lord Crasmere unrolled the scroll and read it aloud. To her dismay, and the dismay of every lord around the table, King Sebastt asked for no explanation as to what had happened within the Citadel that night; and, from his tone, it seemed no explanation would be suitable enough. He instead saw the attack as aimed deliberately against Mesia and the royal family. Ignoring the fact that Aleria had lost its king, or perhaps being ignorant of it, Sebastt demanded that his Thalist priests, along with Lady Miriandri and her sister to be returned to Mesia or risk the consequences that would follow.


    After Lord Crasmere was finished reading, the room sat in stunned silence. Mira¡¯s mind raced with the condemning history of her country. Mesia was a large kingdom, and feared very little threat. Its great power had come through the aggressive expansion and invasion of every smaller and weaker kingdom around it. Aleria had escaped this merely because of its distance within the lofty mountains, and because the kings of Mesia had learned through bitter experience that invasion into the deep mountain valleys was impossible. The treaty had also served to benefit both sides¡ªgiving Mesia the resources it wanted, and Aleria a promise that they would never need fear the threat Mesia posed.


    That promise now seemed null. As she looked around the table, Mira saw the white faces and felt their fear. At the same time, she cursed her great-uncle and his myopic mind.


    Conversation broke out along the table almost at once. Several of the lords protested loudly that the Mesians should pay for believing that the Alerians were to blame for the death of their king. A round-faced man with many rings on his fingers was foremost among the these.


    ¡°It is obvious what we must do. We must send them back at once!¡± he commanded, his beady eyes glinting with fervor. Mira disliked him immediately. ¡°They are of no use here. They would better serve as an appeasement to King Sebastt¡¯s demands.¡±


    ¡°But what of the treaty?¡± another lord cried. ¡°Does this mean that it is void? My thralls were expecting to gain a great deal from trade with Mesia. As were we all.¡±


    ¡°This is an act of war!¡± yet another shouted. ¡°The Mesians mean to conquer us, as they did to Gallatros and Romanstra!¡±


    Rhoden raised his hand, but it was several moments before the table would settle down. Mira clutched her hands in her lap, her heart racing. She sat unspeaking in the whirl of noise. At last, Lord Crasmere banged his hand against the table and silence fell.


    ¡°Contrary to what you believe, Lord Ignatus, this is not an act of war,¡± said Rhoden, and his voice, though quiet, reached every ear. ¡°King Sebastt has merely made us aware of his demands. He felt threatened and wants retribution. Lest we act in haste and cause the very thing we fear, let us consider our next actions carefully.¡±


    ¡°The Mesians have blamed us for the attack!¡± the round-faced man spat. ¡°They should pay for that insult.¡±


    ¡°To provoke Mesia into a war would be unwise,¡± said Rhoden. ¡°We have no real grievance against them, and we can help them see that they have none against us.¡± As he spoke, Mira marveled that he could be so calm in the midst of the anger and disbelief of the Council.


    ¡°We cannot let this slight go unchallenged!¡± the man repeated.


    ¡°We can,¡± said Rhoden simply. ¡°I refuse to rise to Sebastt¡¯s anger. There is no slight that can possibly justify the horrors that such a conflict would bring.¡± He looked to Lord Crasmere at his side and another elderly lord across the table. ¡°I¡¯m certain you would agree, my lords.¡±


    Both men nodded their heads solemnly.


    ¡°War is a terrible burden,¡± said Lord Crasmere softly. ¡°One that lies on the shoulders of young and old alike.¡±


    ¡°I agree with Prince Rhoden,¡± said a dark-haired man who sat across from Mira. ¡°We should not antagonize Mesia the way they have antagonized us. I believe that if we were to explain what truly happened, this hostility would lessen. We should send our answer back as soon as possible.¡±


    ¡°You think Sebastt will change his mind, simply because we write him a letter?¡± the round-faced man scoffed. ¡°If you believe that, Redes, you¡¯re a bigger fool than I thought.¡±


    Lord Redes flushed.


    ¡°I¡¯ve spent my life among the written word,¡± Rhoden said, and once again his clear voice cut through the silence. ¡°When properly applied, I¡¯ve found it has some of the greatest power in the world.¡±


    The disagreeable lord sat back, watching the table with slitted eyes, but did not argue further.