《The Weight of Crowns》


 1 - Cheran

    Cheran dropped grapes off his balcony. Servant children in the courtyard below gathered with their arms outstretched, spreading the edges of their tunics, aprons, and skirts to catch whatever fell. He heard a few happy squeals, and leaned back into his chair. He took a sip of wine and motioned for his maid to continue tossing the fruit. He had done enough good for the day. As the balmy wind of the mid afternoon blew onto his balcony, he hummed along to the court musician entertaining him for the day. The man was of middling talent but admirable enthusiasm. He might not attain the peaks of fame, but he would never be out of work. Cheran tapped his feet in rhythm to the slow strumming of the musician¡¯s lyre.


    ¡°His majesty requests your presence, your highness,¡± a courtier said. Cheran closed his eyes. It only felt like a moment, but when he opened them again, it was nearly dusk. The court musician was gone. The courtyard below was silent. He should have felt rested from the languid day, the cooled wine, the dreamless sleep. But the courtier¡¯s arrival had unsettled everything.


    ¡°Tell him I shall meet him after dinner,¡± Cheran said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. His father only used him as decoration half the time he was called. All the work would proceed as usual even if he was absent.


    ¡°It is not a matter that can wait, your highness.¡±


    Cheran stood up from his daybed. He was still groggy from the wine. He was irritated, with no one to direct it at.


    ¡°Draw a bath for me, Beira,¡± he ordered the maid. ¡°Have it ready by the time I return from meeting¡ª from meeting his majesty.¡±


    He slipped on the robe Beira held out for him and followed the courtier back to the emperor¡¯s chambers. The corridors were empty. The atmosphere was tense in the whole capital, fear creeping into every crevice. The royal palace was no exception. The courtier walked quickly, and Cheran rushed to keep up with him. Guards became more and more frequent as he walked nearer to his father¡¯s chambers, each set of them larger and more imposing than the ones before them. Their weapons grew more impressive, and the portraits on the walls of the corridors became grander and bigger.


    ¡°Is there something the matter?¡± Cheran whispered to the courtier. He didn¡¯t know the man¡¯s name, but he had seen him around. He was more than a mere courtier. He was someone trusted, someone who was important to the efficiency of his father¡¯s rule.


    ¡°It is better that his majesty tell you, your highness,¡± the man said, looking away.


    Cheran pushed away the unease of the whole affair. It was true that they were at war, but their empire was always at war. There had been wars before, and nothing but victories. They finally arrived, and the courtier took his place behind Cheran. Two soldiers stood outside the doors, their spears crossed across the double doors to his father¡¯s study. They offered Cheran a curt bow and opened the doors for him.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    He heard his father before he saw him. The study was nearly pitch black. The heels of his father¡¯s boots paced the length of the room in regular, crisp taps at regular intervals. There were others in the room too. Cheran could hear their shallow breathing and their restrained silences. His father lived in his mind more than he did in the real world, and probably wasn¡¯t even aware of who was coming into and leaving the room. He saw them not as people but as tools to be used.


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± Cheran said. Turning to the courtier he said, ¡°Refill the lamps and bring us some candles.¡±


    His father wouldn¡¯t have noticed the discomfort of the people around him either, but Cheran did. He was familiar with the discomfort and feeling of inadequacy that Emperor Avyan planted within most people he met. It was impossible not to be. It wasn¡¯t something the emperor did consciously. He was simply better than most people, in more ways than Cheran could count. Furthermore, the emperor made no attempts to hide or diminish the superiority of his intellect or status.


    The courtier returned with servants bearing lamp oil and candles. His father¡¯s study was lined with bookshelves on all sides, covering every inch of the walls. Armchairs and a sofa surrounded a coffee table in the half of the room closest to the door, while the half further away was occupied by a massive desk. Behind it, there was a single tall window, showing the cloudy night sky. One of the maids opened the windows to let fresh air in, and a cool breeze soon brought them all some relief. As the room brightened, Cheran saw the tired faces of the ministers and nobles. While his father paced the room with a strict, military energy, his companions were exhausted.


    ¡°Wine and refreshments for our esteemed guests,¡± he said, snapping a finger at one of the maids. His father continued his pacing. Cheran sat in one of the empty armchairs and placed his hands on the armrests. He offered a few of the men what he hoped was a friendly smile.


    There was a map on his father¡¯s desk, and hundreds of little wooden soldiers and horses laid out on its surface. As he looked closer, far too many were fallen. He was no genius, but even he could tell that this war was not like the others.


    ¡°Noumin¡¯s armies are stronger than we expected,¡± Avyan said. ¡°Their forces are more numerous than our estimates.¡±


    How much stronger? Cheran thought. When his father ascended the throne, the Daivian Empire was supposed to be the most powerful in the known world. They had the most soldiers, the richest farmlands, and endless troves of treasure. They had a history of victory and glory. Noumin was just a peninsular nation of fishermen and sailors. Cheran knew they would win the war, but it was the first war since his father had become emperor. To be seen struggling in any way would be a sign of weakness. It would give hope to other nations to try their luck, to encroach on their borders.


    ¡°It is time we seek out other means of achieving our goals,¡± Avyan said. ¡°A peaceful resolution where both parties benefit.¡±


    Cheran nodded absentmindedly. As far as he knew, Daivia wanted access to the Nouminian ports, but Noumin needed nothing from them. Nouminians were fiercely independent people. They believed that everything they needed, they could find in the sea. They were right more often than not.


    ¡°What do we offer them?¡± Cheran asked.


    All of the men in the room were looking at him. Some of them with hope, and others with despair.


    ¡°A marriage offer to the crown prince,¡± the courtier said.


    Cheran looked towards his father, and he knew that both their minds held the same doubt¡ª that he was not worth enough.

 2 - Raval

    There was a silence in the courtroom. The strange Daivian messenger stood stiff and pale, waiting for either a response or the sharp end of a sword. The Nouminese queen sat behind a silk curtain. The young king sat on the throne, playing with a set of blocks. He built a tower out of them, crooked but somehow not toppling. It was not tall, but the queen offered him mumbled words of encouragement.


    ¡°You expect us to believe that this proposition is sincere?¡± the queen regent asked. Her voice was higher and younger than the messenger expected.


    ¡°The emperor desires this union between the two kingdoms.¡±


    ¡°A union how?¡± the queen asked. ¡°The emperor has no daughters that I know of.¡±


    ¡°A marriage between his son and your princess.¡±


    ¡°The princess?¡±


    The queen drew out a long breath. A pair of maids drew back the curtain separating her from the rest of the courtroom. The messenger knelt to the ground as she walked towards him. She was younger than he expected, possibly not older than thirty years.


    ¡°We agree to this proposition,¡± the queen said. ¡°Please provide this man a room and some refreshments. You can make your journey back to the emperor once you are well rested.¡±


    The guards surrounding the messenger stepped away and gave him some room. The queen watched the messenger leave. As soon as he did, she ordered the doors of the courtroom closed. It had been difficult fending off the troops. A few weeks more of war, or even a few days, and they would have lost. She did not care much for her kingdom, but she cared for its king. Her son was too young to survive the aftereffects of a lost war.


    Daivia might think that their princess meant something to Noumin. It had been years since Vayu had been in the capital, a decade since she had lived in the castle. She was the king¡¯s daughter, because some truths could not be changed, no matter how the queen wished she could change¡ª or better, erase them. But Vayu was unimportant now, so far removed from power and the capital that many people had forgotten she even existed.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    ¡°Raval,¡± her father said. Queen Raval turned towards the old man. He was one of the reasons she¡¯d retained her power after her husband¡¯s death. Men were deterred only by the presence of another man, and Lord Dhravan was a strong man.


    ¡°We must summon her,¡± Raval said.


    ¡°She is not a princess now. We cannot bring her into this,¡± Lord Dhravan said.


    ¡°She is still a subject of this country. No one can go against the queen¡¯s command.¡±


    Lord Dhravan held his tongue. If not for his daughter¡¯s obstinacy and greed, the young woman they were discussing would¡¯ve been the queen. To a part of the kingdom, the young woman was still the true queen. In their eyes, his daughter was evil, his innocent grandson was a thief who had stolen Vayu¡¯s birthright, and Dhravan himself the man behind the scenes bankrolling the whole operation. They were not entirely wrong.


    ¡°She let all of this go without argument, Raval,¡± the old man said. ¡°She convinced her allies that she was leaving of her own free will and that she had no desire for the throne. You cannot reward her grace by throwing her to the wolves. Do you think those foreigners will treat her kindly? That she will be happy among strangers, in an unfamiliar land full of people who are now at war with us?¡±


    ¡°Do you think we have a choice, father?¡± Raval asked. ¡°We cannot last for much longer in this war. We are holding them off for now, but what happens if this continues? What do you think will happen to your grandson?¡±


    ¡°We can think of other solutions,¡± Lord Dhravan said. ¡°Daivia is most likely expecting a princess raised in the castle, raised to marry into royalty or nobility. We do not know how they will react to finding they instead received a girl raised in a convent.¡±


    ¡°My husband had no other children, and I am not willing to risk my kingdom by sending a fraud. The decision is made. I will send a unit of soldiers to fetch her from Hethyra.¡±


    ¡°What if they are not willing to let her leave?¡± Lord Dhravan said. ¡°You will make one more enemy by sending her to Daivia. The princess has made an oath to become a priestess, and that is not an oath that the convent will like to be broken.¡±


    ¡°They are not more powerful than the crown. They are just some priests at the far reaches of the country. They might not want to give her up, but they do not have a choice. None of us do.¡±


    Raval started to leave, but paused. ¡°But you are right. There is no need to make another enemy. Offer them payment in exchange for the princess. I know it is difficult surviving out there in the far reaches. Give them money, grain, and whatever else they might need. They¡¯ll gladly hand her over when the price is paid.¡±

 3 - Cheran

    ¡°What do you know about her?¡± Obal asked.


    Cheran stared at the little wooden playing pieces on the board in front of him. Obal was a more experienced player than him, and far more practiced. Cheran glanced at the little pile of coins on the line. It was pocket change for him, but seeing Obal lose the money would be gratifying. After moving his charioteer forward by two steps, he leaned back into his chair.


    ¡°Nothing.¡±


    ¡°What if she is hideous?¡±


    ¡°Does not matter.¡±


    ¡°Does anything matter?¡± Obal asked, moving his foot soldier two spaces to the right.


    ¡°It will end the war, and allow us access to Nouminian ports. We will be able to stop the bloodshed as well. I¡¯m sure she feels the same.¡±


    ¡°What if she is overly pious?¡±


    ¡°All the better. I¡¯ll leave her to her pilgrimages and respect her like I would any elder. After all, our nation does not follow the principle of monogamy. There will be other princess, other weddings.¡±


    Cheran gave Obal a cheeky grin. However, he hoped that the conversation would end. The capital was visibly happier. He could see it in the way people moved around on the streets. The announcement had been made, and the preparations underway. He was offered congratulations everywhere he went, although he suspected people were glad he had come to be useful in at least this way. He was more curious about the princess than Obal was. If nothing went wrong, the woman might become the future empress. He had asked his friends and other nobles. None of them offered any relevant information about her. The most they recalled were stories of her as a child. She had been a silent, dark-haired girl often by her father¡¯s side. But her father had been dead for more than ten years. Since then, there was nothing. There was no mention of any young royal women at the Nouminian court at all.


    ¡°When is she due to arrive?¡± Obal asked.


    ¡°In three months,¡± Cheran answered, contemplating his next move. Enough time for him to find out more about her, and the secrecy that hung about her.


    ¡°And the wedding?¡±


    ¡°In four months.¡±


    ¡°I win,¡± Obal said. Cheran looked down at the pieces. His fortress was surrounded without escape. He scowled.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Were you trying to distract me from the game?¡± Cheran asked.


    ¡°Not just trying, my friend. I succeeded.¡±


    Obal stood next to the table and swept the money into his coin pouch.


    ¡°You are being too placid about this whole affair. She may be a perfectly normal young woman, but even then, she may be utterly unsuited for you. She may not be normal at all. There is one outcome where everything goes right, and a million where something goes wrong. I find your lack of interest in your future life confusing, my friend. Surely, you must be curious about her at least a little bit.¡±


    Cheran wished he could send spies to Noumin, but his father had forbidden it. If there was a suspicion that their offer was not genuine, or that they were merely trying to buy themselves time in the war, it would all fall apart.


    ¡°It is just a political marriage,¡± Cheran said. ¡°I¡¯m sure we shall have a great deal in common. She will also be relieved to be done with war. We were raised in similar environments, and she is a princess. She will definitely have been prepared to marry into a family of power and to leave her home.¡±


    ¡°And you?¡±


    He ignored the mocking tone in Obal¡¯s voice. The insinuation that he was prepared for nothing. He could not refute the mockery or the insults. He had not expected talks of marriage or alliances for a few more years. He was not ready for the responsibilities that would follow marriage. The court would expect him to take a larger role in the running of the empire. His new wife would come with expectations of her own. Within a few months, people would start to expect his wife to be expecting. There was something perverse in an entire nation expecting a child.


    Cheran groaned. The less he thought about it, the calmer he could be.


    ¡°Everything will be fine,¡± he said, trying to convince both himself and his friend.


    ¡°The emperor has had some new birds brought in for the royal garden,¡± Obal said. ¡°I see them sometimes on my way to training. They¡¯re called ostriches.¡±


    Obal cleared off the playing pieces and board and placed them in their board.


    ¡°You were speaking about the ostriches?¡±


    ¡°When they see trouble, they bury their heads in the soil. Their little brains think that if they cannot see a problem, it does not exist.¡±


    Cheran ground his jaw. He could have Obal killed for insolence. Others might have done so years before. But then they would say the crown prince was good for nothing, and that he had put to death a valuable soldier of the empire over just a few words. Obal might mean well, but his words cut. He knew where to aim, after so many years of friendship.


    Obal walked off. He walked with purpose, because he had purpose. There was a job that needed doing, and few who could do it as well as him. Cheran didn¡¯t know the feeling. All he had contributed to the world was his existence. As long as he did not die, he was doing well fulfilling his purpose. He was no different from the stallions his father imported from across the Meldorian Sea. The princess coming to meet him was perhaps the same. Princesses were born with even less purpose than princes. They were used as pieces of decoration, as bargaining chips in politics, and as placeholders in case a male heir was not born.


    Cheran was not curious about the princess. It was not in his nature to be curious. He was raised to have the answers to questions more than to question things. However, he was hopeful. Whatever the princess was or wasn¡¯t, he hoped that she would be a kindred spirit.

 4 - Vayu

    Vayu cleaned out the soil around the seedling in the little pot. A few days untended, and tiny weeds sprouted around the fragile plant. Soon they would be transferred to the ground and have to fend for themselves. The fellow novices worked diligently and silently around her. She enjoyed the spring mornings like these, where the ground was covered in dew and the air was cool. It was so peaceful even her mind quieted for a moment.


    It was impossible not to hear news of the rest of Noumin. The Barek Monastery was remote, in the furthest most part of the region of Hethyra, but it was not abandoned. Pilgrims visited them often, and carried with them news of the war. It was not a war that Noumin could win. All she could do was wait and pray along with the other novices, priestesses, and priests.


    The monastery rested on the Barek cliffs, connected to the rest of civilization by a dirt path on one side and the open sea on the other. Vayu rose to her feet and looked over the path, hoping for more pilgrims. No news was not good news in precarious times.


    The priestesses did all that they could to help the war effort, but they were too far to contribute anything significant. It was too much trouble to transport whatever they could collect or make to the soldiers. She felt vibrations on the soles of her bare feet. Hoofbeats. Someone was approaching the monastery, and fast.


    Vayu looked around. They were still beyond the bend in the path, whoever they were. If Noumin had survived the war, the news would reach her weeks after. But even if the war was lost, the monastery would be the last thing on anyone¡¯s mind. Their enemies would be far more occupied with the capital, establishing their power and removing existing rulers. The monastery had survived other wars. People were not interested in crumbling buildings and gardens with meager yields.


    She flinched. She didn¡¯t want to think about that. Her brother was only eleven years old, and mentally even younger. A row of carriages came around the bend, and she sighed in relief. The soldiers riding alongside the carriage wore the crimson Nouminian livery.


    Vayu dropped the trowel in her hand and walked towards the soldiers. She wiped the dirt off her hands on her skirt. It didn¡¯t matter that she was wearing a dress nearly a decade old or that she was sweaty from the physical labor. Everything could wait until she had news of what happened to her family. She did not care about the young queen, but her aunt and others on her mother¡¯s side lived near the border. Her younger brother might have been the root cause of her exile, but he was innocent.


    Lady Yeri led the soldiers. She stopped in front of the young woman. It was over ten years, and the young woman in front of her was not the adolescent she had left at the doors of the monastery. Vayu was still unmistakably still her father¡¯s daughter. Yeri looked at the girl, her skin browned and freckled by the sun and her body lean from work. She did not look royal in any way.


    ¡°Greetings, your highness,¡± Lady Yeri said, bowing down in front of her.


    Vayu bowed out of habit, and then stepped back. Lady Yeri had used the wrong address for her. She was just a novice in the monastery now, not a royal. Her history and her birth meant nothing the moment she was sent away. She was not owed respect from anyone, not more than any other peasant in the kingdom. The loss of her royal status had bothered her for the first few years, but now she was used to being just another Nouminian. If anything, the lack of responsibility and simplicity of her life was tranquil and idyllic.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Your presence is requested at the capital,¡± Lady Yeri said.


    Vayu frowned. She was not allowed to leave the monastery grounds. No novice was. One of the soldiers opened the door to the carriage closest to her. A young woman stepped out. Vayu kept an eye on her. The young woman was familiar, but it had been so many years since she had met with anyone from the capital. The other novices and priestesses told her that nobles used to visit the monastery before. They¡¯d stopped once it became Vayu¡¯s home. Normal people would¡¯ve resented Vayu¡¯s presence, but the people in the monastery were gracious. They learned to live without noble donations, and the faces that Vayu grew up amidst faded into memories.


    The soldiers carried the chest into the monastery, and the young woman approached Vayu.


    ¡°Greetings, your highness.¡±


    Vayu bowed. ¡°I relinquished my titles when I left for the monastery. I¡¯m just Novice Vayu now.¡±


    ¡°Your title has been reinstated. The queen regent has decided to reject your request to join the clergy.¡±


    Vayu¡¯s throat went dry. The queen regent was the reason she left home in the first place. Within a few months of her father falling ill, the entire castle turned hostile towards her. Her friends ignored her, and those who she thought to be allies fled to their own lands away from the capital. Her stepmother was critical of everything she did, and Lord Dhravan was an ever-present, threatening presence near the throne. Even as a child, she saw how much Queen Raval loved her newfound power.


    ¡°After ten years, she¡¯s rejected my request?¡± Vayu asked. Her voice was higher than she intended, but at least her anger sounded more like fear.


    She was weak when she left the capital, friendless and young. It did not matter that she was the rightful heir to the throne, or that it was her father¡¯s wish for her to rule. It did not matter that she had the peoples¡¯ support and a few allies.


    What mattered was that she had a stepmother who would kill to keep her power. She would¡¯ve lost the war of succession, and most likely lost her life. Her well-wishers, her friends, and her supporters would have gone to the gallows with her. At that moment, the only escape she saw was to renounce her title and escape to the monastery. It was fleeing, many called her cowardly, but she would rather be a breathing coward than a buried braveheart. She still felt the same.


    ¡°What is my title, exactly?¡± Vayu asked. ¡°Since she¡¯s rejected my request.¡±


    ¡°You are Princess Vayu,¡± Lady Yeri said. ¡°Sister of King Eshal.¡±


    She had been crown princess, heir to the throne. The only reason Queen Raval would bring her back to the capital was because she needed her. But Vayu needed nothing from her old life. She would be a full-fledged priestess soon. To the outsiders, the monastery was a place of penance and scarcity, but they only saw the lack of luxuries and comforts. They did not see the wealth of knowledge behind the stone walls. Vayu was free as a novice to learn about anything she wished, as much as she wished. Her teachers encouraged her to learn and teach, and there was nothing she enjoyed more in the world. Whether she chose to become a priestess or not after her training, she would have the freedom to live her life after two more years in the monastery.


    ¡°I respectfully decline,¡± Vayu whispered. She cleared her throat. ¡°Please tell the queen regent that I am perfectly content where I am. I have no desire to return to the capital or to court life.¡±


    ¡°Your highness,¡± Lady Yeri explained. ¡°You do not have a choice.¡±

 5 - Cheran

    The young woman sitting in the palanquin was less woman and more veil. Yards of blue satin and silk covered every inch of her skin. He could see nothing of her except the tips of fingers as she adjusted her veils. Even those little dots of her skin told him nothing, as her fingers were stained dark red with the petals of balsam flowers.


    She walked ten paces ahead of the rest of her procession. Her stepmother. Queen Raval, was decked out in gold and silver, outshining the bride and everyone else in attendance. The bride herself came to the altar without fuss, quickly like she was taking a stroll through the city streets. As she got closer, Cheran could see through the thin material of her silk veils. The embroidered border of the veils were unswayed by the wind, and Cheran got the impression the princess was much the same. She stood opposite him without moving or speaking, a statue prepared to do her duty and nothing else.


    The priest blessed them and conducted the marriage rites. At the end of it, she bowed to the priest, faced the wedding guests to bow to them, and finally turned back towards him. He received the priest¡¯s blessings and turned towards the crowd of people gathered to see the wedding.


    She stood next to him with her hands clasped in front of her waist. He saw her exhale deeply before collecting herself and resuming her perfect posture. Cheran took a step closer to her. His father and Queen Raval stood at the bottom of the steps of the altar. His father looked resigned to the union, but the queen seemed happy. Cheran knew the princess was born to the first queen, not Queen Raval, and there was no fondness on the queen¡¯s face. There was no fear for the princess. It did not matter to her that the princess would be left alone in a strange country, among people she called her enemies only a few months before. She certainly met the expectations of being an evil stepmother.


    ¡°A pleasure to meet you, your highness,¡± Cheran said, offering her his hand.


    ¡°An honor to meet you, your highness,¡± the woman said, slipping her hand into his. The gold bangles at her wrist were old gold, darkened and of a fashion from decades ago. Her skin was the color of ocher, and her voice reminded him of passing sages who sometimes visited the court. Her words were deliberate, clear, but lacked the obsequence of most people. The ring on her finger was the one new piece of jewelry, a gift from him. He heard the rapid pattern of her breathing, and felt the drum of her pulse against his fingers as he held her wrist. Peoples¡¯ faces lied. Their stances and their voices lied. But their bodies didn¡¯t. Cheran knew it well. To everyone looking, he had no reason to be nervous. He was in his home country, he was the heir to the throne. There was nothing to cause him fear or trepidation, but he could feel his heartbeat rising to match the tempo of hers.


    He could already see his father¡¯s plans. Others would see just a happy father, but Cheran was familiar with how the emperor worked. Like the cogs and wheels behind an empty clock face, his father¡¯s mind was constantly at work, in ways Cheran couldn¡¯t begin to understand. It would be expected that he would take on more duties at court, and the whole capital city of Yerna would be waiting for him to falter or fail.


    ¡°The last step is steeper than the rest,¡± the princess whispered. Cheran noticed that the step was, and that he would¡¯ve stumbled without the warning. He hastened to thank the princess, but she was already a step ahead of him, looking straight ahead. She offered his father a deep bow and waited for his blessings.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Be well and be happy,¡± the emperor said, placing his hand on her shoulder.


    Cheran noticed that the princess did not seek her stepmother¡¯s blessing. Instead, she bowed again to the nobles and other wedding guests before standing next to him. The guests offered them their blessings as they left, and by the time most of the hall was empty, it was twilight. The princess showed no signs of tiredness, her posture just as perfect as it was in the morning. Cheran was ready to retire to his rooms when the priest reappeared, announcing that there were more rituals to be performed, more prayers done for them to have a long and happy marriage.


    They dutifully did their part. His father was gone, busy with other things. He was perhaps negotiating treaties with the queen of Noumin. As soon as news of the marriage broke, ministers started to approach him for decisions to be made. Cheran was granted a new title, domain over the northern Phalshar Mountains. He was even given permission to move into another manor on the castle grounds.


    The princess¡¯s maids approached her and guided her away. There had been opportunities to meet her before the wedding, but Cheran had not made any effort. He was busy fulfilling his new expectations. Four months had seemed like an eternity, but they passed by in a flash. He had been inundated with wedding planning, advising on withdrawing troops, on possible business ventures with Noumin. Besides, there was no point to meeting her when the outcome was already decided. It was not as if he could meet her and decline to marry her. The princess walked away without looking back. Apparently, she thought the same. He realized he still hadn¡¯t seen her face.


    Obal approached him as the priest walked off. The servants began to sweep the hall. The floor was covered in wilting rose petals, most of the stone floors covered in a blanket of red. Cheran smirked. It looked like the aftermath of a war.


    ¡°So it is done,¡± Obal said.


    ¡°So it is done,¡± Cheran agreed.


    ¡°I hear the princess is rather pious,¡± he said. ¡°Some of the guests spoke of her living at a monastery for much of the last few years.¡±


    He was not a devout believer. He said his prayers and offered tithes, but it was out of a sense of ceremony than actual belief. The gods seemed to be indifferent beings, to him. When he bowed his head in front of an idol, he thought of other things. There was no sincerity and no fear or love for the divine. Yet he received all that he wanted. The poor lined up at dawn to offer gifts to the gods, and all they walked away with emptier pockets and unfounded hope. Either the divine played favorites, or they were apathetic to all that happened.


    He started to walk towards his new rooms and stopped. He had missed one of the words Obal told him. She had not visited the monastery over the years. She had lived there. For months he had tried to inquire about her through the usual ways. All courts had gossip, all young women had friends or lovers. Some of them traveled and with them, gossip. However, he had heard nothing of her. He had assumed that Noumin was being careful about their princess, that people had grown tight-lipped with all that was at stake. At the worst, he had assumed that she was a shut-in raised without much education or culture. Some nations preferred to raise their young women that way, raising them only for strategic marriages.


    Shut-ins were something, simpletons were another. They were both better alternatives to someone who had lived in a monastery. Cheran was familiar with the way monks and priestesses lived. Austerely. No one lived at a monastery unless they were completely committed to their faith. Especially if they were a princess. Even the most vestigial of princesses were expected to be in court and look pretty, to host balls or tea parties. If someone lived at a monastery for years, it meant they had abandoned all hopes of power or all dreams of any role among high society. Such people did not agree to unexpected marriages from princes of far-off lands.


    ¡°How long did she live there?¡± Cheran asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll find out.¡±

 6 - Vayu

    Vayu threw off the veil and started to take off the heavy jewelry. It had been torture, standing there with so much weight on her body. She was reminded of how men were tied to boulders and their pockets filled with stones before they were thrown into the sea. She rubbed her neck as soon as she took off the massive earrings. So much jewelry, even though it was seen by no one.


    Her maids put away the jewelry and started to undo the pins in her hair. It had been years since she¡¯d done anything to her hair other than plait it. The current elaborate style, with strands of flowers woven into a bun at the nape of her neck was beautiful, but the the stems of the flowers itched and if she moved the wrong way, the pins dug into her scalp.


    ¡°Would you like us to draw a bath?¡± one of the maids asked. They were Nouminian, but too new to her for her to remember their names.


    ¡°Yes, please,¡± she answered. It was strange having people serve her again. At the monastery, she had been the servant. She served the priestesses and the abbesses diligently. She served the pilgrims who visited. Even though it was often thankless, difficult work, she had found fulfillment in it. Now, being waited upon was uncomfortable. Everywhere around her, she was overwhelmed by the opulence. The room she was in now had a massive oval mirror set in a gold frame, and she could recognize it was solid gold. In the mirror, she did not recognize herself. She was not used to looking into mirrors, but she could still tell the changes that had occurred in the last few months. She was not exactly a highborn young woman, but she was no longer novice Vayu either.


    A decade had changed her more than she guessed. When she was the princess, everyone always said that she looked like her mother. She did not remember her mother, but she remembered the portraits of the first queen that used to hang in the castle¡¯s corridors. Vayu looked nothing like her mother now. She was toned from physical work and browned by the sun. She had never received the education to possess the fluid grace of most noblewomen. Instead, she had adopted the no nonsense mannerisms of her teachers at the monastery.


    Her rooms were at the opposite end of the manor from the crown prince. She had stood by his side for an entire day, but was left with no impression of who he was. He was different from her. He¡¯d had a choice in whether or not to marry her. He had the support of his father, an emperor. No one had ever questioned his right to rule.


    The differences did not end there. He was surrounded by people who he could trust. The people around her were at best strangers, and at worst spies. The maids her stepmother sent along with her never looked Vayu in the eyes. They whispered their suggestions and murmured secrets to each other. There was no telling who else they told their secrets to. Her friends in Hethyra had been sad to see her go. A few had insisted on accompanying her, but Vayu had declined. There was no telling what would be of her future, and if it was ruinous, she preferred to walk that path alone.


    The servants returned from the bath chamber and guided her in. The bath tub was more of a pool, filled with heated water and scented oils. When she was a child, she was used to being bathed by her nanny. Disrobing in front of the servants, literal strangers, felt unnatural.


    ¡°I would like to bathe alone,¡± she said. ¡°I shall call if I need anything.¡±


    ¡°Yes, your highness,¡± one of the girls said. She thought she heard a note of relief in her voice. She did not know how much had changed in the capital since she left. Once, a long time ago, she was considered the natural future queen. Ten years was enough for the peoples¡¯ memory to fade. She was no one now. To most of the people in the capital, probably, and definitely to her maids, who were chosen by Queen Raval, she was something that had once been valuable, like currency no longer in use. They were probably well-bred girls, from good families. Such girls would think it beneath them to serve a common girl dragged back from the Barek monastery.


    Perhaps the girls weren¡¯t meant to spy on Vayu after all. When she thought about it, she had no secrets to hide. She was not plotting a rebellion, and most of her allies had moved on from her. She had been content at the monastery, and if Queen Raval had ever looked into her, she would¡¯ve found that Vayu had accepted her new life wholly and completely. In reality, the more realistic purpose of the girls was to grab Prince Cheran¡¯s attention. They were all pretty girls, and they were pretty in a way that Vayu no longer was. Soft skinned and soft spoken, they were far more the image of a blushing bride than she was.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    She wondered if she could ever make up for her years of exile. She was unused to the complexities of court, but she had seen it even as a child. The words people said and the things they meant were entirely different in royal courts. Power was an unstable thing, being pulled in different directions. The nobles wanted to take power away from the royal family, the royal family wanted to keep the nobles in line. The peasants, of course, were too busy with survival to consider anything else.


    Vayu emerged from the bathroom in the robe they had laid out for her. The maids were ready at the dressing table. The surface of the table was already covered with perfumes, creams to soften the skin, and oils for her hair. There was a basket filled with freshly picked flowers at the side of the table. One of the girls was threading jasmines and frangipani flowers into a straight garland. The dress they¡¯d laid out for her was made of lace and silk, with embroidered white flowers with stems of gold silk thread. It was a suggestion of a piece of clothing, exposing far more of her skin than she was used to. The neckline touched her sternum. It was a beautiful by itself, but on a human body it was obscene. The maids dusted her shoulders and chest with a shimmery powder before they started working on her hair.


    It was the one feature she possessed that she was proud of. Under the veils of the monastery, her hair had been spared exposure to the sun. It was the one source of her vanity. She had maintained it well, and now the dark waves reached her waist.


    She expected them to plait her hair, but instead, the girls braided individual flowers into strands of her hair. The garland was turned into a flower crown atop her head. On top of the flowers, they placed a feather-light veil of pale gold silk. It was pretty, the veil and style again reminded her of how close she had been to becoming a priestess.


    ¡°Would you like a glass of wine to ease your nerves?¡± one of the maids asked.


    Vayu shook her head. She wasn¡¯t used to alcohol, and she was afraid it would dull her mind. The monastery never had much money, and most of the elders considered it a vice. She only had it on high holidays, and even then it was sips of home-brewed berry wine shared between her and other acolytes.


    Once the prince arrived, she wanted to talk to him. He had not reached out to meet her before the wedding, and she hadn¡¯t been allowed to speak to anyone until the vows were said and the marriage completed. Her disinterest in him lay in the fact that nothing would change by speaking to the prince before the marriage. His disinterest probably stemmed from the fact that she was just his first wife, not his only one. There would be more alliances made, and a number of young ladies who would be prettier, sweeter, and infinitely more eager to please.


    She wasn¡¯t sure what she would say, but they had to speak if they were to spend a lifetime together. She had to know where she stood, and what freedoms she could expect from him.


    The girls set out fruits and wine. They set alight small lamps with scented oils and showered the bed in flower petals. It all felt like the preparation for a sacrifice instead of a wedding night. The smells were heady and overpowering, and Vayu was tempted to ask them to undo her hair. The crown braid was too tight, and it was starting to give her a headache.


    It was fine. The waiting wouldn¡¯t be long. It was already late into the night, and the festivities were over. The men might be enjoying a glass of port without the women, but he wouldn¡¯t be expected to give anyone else his company this particular night. Or perhaps Daivian customs were different. Perhaps in this new, strange country women were made to wait all night without complaint, while men mourned the death of their freedom.


    Two hours later, she gave up. Her headache had gone from dull irritation to a pounding menace that refused to abate. Her maids were gone, retired to their rooms. She took out the pins keeping the veil and her hair in place and let it fall, running her fingers through until it was devoid of tangles. Even by then, he did not come.


    Her nightdress was too scant for her to be comfortable. She made her way to the trunks of clothing that arrived with her. Her entire trousseau was Raval¡¯s selection, and utterly opposite to Vayu¡¯s own taste. It was ridiculous that the queen even considered that she would look good in the tightly tailored outfits and deep necks. Vayu was not used to such fashion, not after a life of austere modesty at the monastery. Her discomfort showed in her posture, and what may have been flattering if she was confident in the clothing, was reduced to awkwardness.


    She changed into one of her cotton nightdresses from the monastery, from her one trunk of possessions she was allowed to bring with her. It was a faded shapeless thing, softened by washing over the years, but it was familiar. She fell asleep quickly, the day¡¯s tiredness depriving her of the ability to think about the prince¡¯s absence or be offended at the slight.


    In the morning, things might look brighter. At the very least, she could talk to the prince with a clear head, wearing proper clothing, without an expectation of marital responsibilities.

 7 - Cheran

    Cheran hadn¡¯t meant to drink so much. It was Obal¡¯s news that had led him to take out the first bottle of wine. As Obal continued telling him the story, the servants had fetched them more drinks. He hadn¡¯t eaten anything since the morning, and within an hour he was truly and completely inebriated. They fell asleep in his parlor, and he woke up with a pounding headache and all of the information he had learned the night before.


    She wasn¡¯t a princess. She was an almost-priestess they dragged away from her life for politics¡¯ sake. She probably hated him and both countries involved in the stupid war and the stupider agreement they¡¯d made for peace. She came into court like a lamb to slaughter¡ª no, she was dragged into the mess. From the next morning onwards, she would be pulled and manipulated in a million directions by all who wanted the power of the crown princess, and she was utterly unprepared for it.


    Young women from noble and royal families were always sheltered. They did not know much of surviving in the real world, but they were always taught how to survive in high society. They could give out backhanded insults and knew how to deal with those above and below their ranks. Their society functioned by a set of rules that never changed.


    ¡°What have I gotten myself into?¡± he murmured to Obal.


    Cheran knew that he was not the best kind of crown prince. He was born male, and grew to adulthood without major illness or infirmity. Those were his two main achievements, and in a country where magic was dead and medicine was in its infant stages, they were fairly big achievements. Two of his younger brothers had died in birth, and three more during childhood. He couldn¡¯t say all of them were of natural causes. In all, he had won the competition due to luck and his healthy constitution.


    He would have to talk to her eventually. She was not a problem that would go away if he ignored her, and so Cheran stood up. He motioned for the servants to prepare his bath and bring him his breakfast. Obal slowly left the room, rubbing his shoulder. He¡¯d spent the night on the sofa in the living room of Cheran¡¯s suite and was regretting it.


    ¡°Perhaps let her know in advance?¡± Obal suggested. ¡°Send a servant ahead, so she can prepare herself for meeting you.¡±


    There was a knock on the door, and a servant entered with their head bowed after the door opened. It was a young woman, dressed simply. Without raising her head, she started to recite her message.


    ¡°Her highness wishes to meet with you. If you are amenable, she would like to meet over the mid-day meal in the gardens near her quarters.¡±


    ¡°Please tell her that would be lovely,¡± Cheran said. The servant bowed deeper before walking out the door, her steps light and nimble.


    ¡°The mid-day meal is not far off,¡± Obal sang.


    Cheran did not know what to do. He was not a religious man, and he did not like speaking to religious people. He was not even sure if she followed the same religion as him. Perhaps she considered him and all of Daivia to be heretics. Nouminese people worshipped things of the sea. Their gods of seas and storms were the ones who they prayed to for safe sailing, for storm-less skies. The Daivian legends spoke of their founder being a god.Stolen novel; please report.


    ¡°What else did you find out about her?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Nothing. No one wants to speak of her. Even this, I overheard a few of her maids talking.¡±


    ¡°Her stepmother obviously dislikes her,¡± Cheran thought aloud. ¡°She¡¯s older than the young king, the firstborn I¡¯m assuming.¡±


    Cheran paused. ¡°Was she crown princess of Noumin?¡±


    Daivia did not often recognize princesses as successors to the throne, but he knew other nations did not discriminate between men and women. At least not when it came to the monarchy. Noumin was too small for any war to become news. He knew how it must have operated. A carefully contained coup within the walls of the castle. The old king had died a decade before, and it was not a challenge to drive a young girl away from her home.


    ¡°So she was worth nothing to them,¡± Obal said. ¡°If anything, they got rid of a threat to the king¡¯s power by handing her over to us.¡±


    Cheran nodded in agreement. It was a surprise that his father had not found out about the princess beforehand. His father, who was usually a full ten steps ahead of others in the room, had made a misstep.


    ¡°It does not matter,¡± he said. ¡°The alliance was only an excuse to cease the war. We have access to their ports, they are free of the constant burden of war. We may have done Queen Raval a favor, but we suffered no harm in the process. A princess is a princess, dethroned as she may be. Whatever tricks they may have, if we waged war again they would lose. We did not offer them peace because we were afraid of loss, Obal. My father just did not think it worth losing so many men when there was an alternative.¡±


    ¡°You and I both know it will not be so simple. They could turn on us any moment, and we do not have a bargaining chip. They could from alliances with other nations and pose a stronger threat. And what do we do if that happens? We do not have their daughter, their princess. We just have the garbage they threw away,¡± Obal said.


    ¡°I did not realize I was garbage.¡±


    The princess stood at the entrance of the room, two maids on either side. He had recognized her voice from the day before, but it was his first time seeing her face. She stood unlike the women next to her, her palms clasped together in front of her, her posture severe and rigid. Her dark hair was in a single plait, a thin ribbon tied to the end. Her face was bare of powder or any stain on her lips of cheeks. She wore two small gold earrings and no other jewelry.


    He could imagine her as a novice, as a priestess, someday as an abbess of a monastery. The firm line of her mouth spoke of discipline and order.


    ¡°I apologize, your highness,¡± Cheran said. ¡°For my friend¡¯s callous words. He¡ª¡±


    ¡°Your friend should be the one apologizing,¡± she said, cutting him off. ¡°In a matter of seconds he called the emperor foolish for this alliance, the crown princess of this nation discarded garbage, and the crown prince¡­ well, surely he does not respect you that much if he feels comfortable saying such things about your wife, about your father.¡±


    Cheran swallowed. She had no power, but it would not be much for her to complain to the emperor. She had every right to do so, and Cheran knew of his father¡¯s desire for respect. The nation functioned because the royal family rested only a few steps below the gods. One did not call demi-gods garbage.


    ¡°What would you have me do, your highness?¡± he asked.


    Her dark eyes were narrowed, furious. He saw the way her hands were balled into fists around the ends of her shawl. Her dark dress added to her somber appearance. She reminded him of a fury, one of the mythical goddesses of vengeance. Obal perhaps saw her as a goddess of death.


    ¡°In Noumin, treasonous tongues are cut out.¡±

 8 - Vayu

    The crown prince paled, and so did the soldier next to him. Vayu was not as angry as she knew she looked. Once in charge of the children at the monastery, she knew how to glower. She knew how to appear stern and enforce rules. The truth was that she was humiliated, sad, and unsure of where she stood. No, she knew exactly where she stood. If she let herself be stepped all over, she would truly be the kind of garbage that the soldier spoke of. If she crawled her way up to power or complained to the emperor, she would be no different from her stepmother.


    ¡°But this is not Noumin,¡± she said. ¡°And your soldier is not wrong. I was essentially exiled from court in Noumin. I have no political power there, and few allies. So, your soldier will keep his tongue. I just would like it if I did not have to share space with him, at the moment.¡±


    The prince nodded, and the soldier quickly left. Vayu took a breath and took a seat on of the diwans in the prince¡¯s sitting room. The whole room was richer than hers, but slightly faded like it was lived in.


    ¡°I apologize for coming here unannounced. I was told that the gardeners are working in the gardens today, and that it might not be ideal for lunch,¡± she said. ¡°I do have much to say to you, and I¡¯m sure you to me. I thought it would be better to have that conversation sooner than later.¡±


    ¡°Perfect. Again, I apologize for my friend¡¯s words,¡± the crown prince, carefully taking a seat in front of the diwan opposite hers. Between them, there was a large tea table made of etched glass and wrought iron. He motioned for his servants to bring refreshments.


    ¡°I hope your travel here was pleasant,¡± he continued. ¡°We did not have much time for introductions or conversation yesterday, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    ¡°My journey was uneventful,¡± she said. It was certainly not pleasant. She had hoped that she would at least get to see Eshal, but she had traveled directly from Hethyra, joined by Raval at the border between the two countries. It was a small mercy that they did not share a carriage or even words during the journey.


    They sat in silence until tea and snacks arrived. With another wave of his hand, he dismissed his servants and they were alone in the room. Alone, together. It was the first time since they had met. The crown prince shifted on the diwan, and something changed. His face was no longer casually nonchalant, his demeanor no longer detached. Instead, he looked curious and cautious. With the change, he looked younger.


    ¡°What questions do you have for me?¡± Vayu asked. It seemed an easier way to start a conversation than offering information herself.


    The crown prince hesitated. He played with the sleeves of his shirt as he thought. Finally, he looked at her again.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± he asked.


    It was a disarming question. It was her turn to hesitate.


    ¡°I want to become a priestess,¡± she said. ¡°Although I know how impossible that is. I want to become a priestess, but I¡¯m not asking you to make that happen. That was another life. I did not foresee this wedding, and so I cannot answer your question properly. I do not know what I want from this life.¡±


    Other people had the luxury of putting their desires first. For other people, their desires were not selfish. The crown prince might be a good person, he might be a fool, and he might grant her request. But the consequences would weigh on her forever. If she traveled back to Hethyra, it would give Daivia an excuse to resume the war. Even in the far reaches of Hethyra, she and everyone around her had felt the impact of the war. Small nations did not have deep pockets to draw from, and Noumin would not survive if Daivia unleashed their full strength.


    ¡°I can understand,¡± the crown prince said. ¡°I can promise you a peaceful life here. You will be free to do as you wish within the castle walls. I can have a shrine built for you near your quarters, for you to pray, if you would like.¡±


    She did not need a shrine. Her trunk held a little idol of the goddess of waves, Duna, and she preferred her prayers to be private. A new shrine being built would only attract attention, to others in the castle, remind them of the new princess¡¯s otherness. She shook her head.


    ¡°Thank you, but no. I usually pray in my own chambers, and prefer it that way,¡± she said. ¡°Instead, if it is possible, I would like access to the royal library. I enjoy reading.¡±


    ¡°That is not something you need request of me. Anywhere within the walls of the keep, you are free to go,¡± the crown prince said. ¡°You will need to ask your guards regarding going outside and visiting the city, but you shall not have much restrictions regarding that. They simply need to know in order to protect you better.¡±


    Vayu wondered who she would need to be protected from. Her presence in Daivia had stopped a war, and her brief ride through the city showed her that the people were at least temporarily grateful for the peace she brought with her.


    ¡°Who would mean to harm me?¡± she asked. For years, she had lived in the Barek monastery undisturbed and forgotten. She had walked the streets of the local village without an escort, because those in robes did not have enemies. They usually brought with them the intent to help, and people welcomed them in.


    ¡°More people than you would think,¡± the crown prince said with a smile. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. You¡¯ll get used to it, and our guards and soldiers are well-trained.¡±


    Vayu nodded. She picked up the cup of tea in front of her, taking her first sip. It was different from the bitter concoction of herbs she was used to in the monastery. A flower bloomed at the base of her cup, its petals leaking a lavender color. The maids had added honey and cinnamon to the mix. She put it down. It was too sweet for her.


    The conversation was going better than she had thought, and infinitely better than what she assumed, coming into the room and hearing herself referred to as garbage. The crown prince appeared kind. It could be a facade, but he gained nothing in pretending to be kind to her. Even if he was cruel or condescending, there was nothing she could do. There was no place she could run.


    ¡°I understand,¡± she said. ¡°I must thank you for being so considerate towards me. I shall try not to bring you any problems during my time here. I should ask you too, then. What do you want from me?¡±

 9 - Cheran

    ¡°First, I want you to call me Cheran,¡± Cheran said. Despite her confident words, the more time he spent with her, the more he picked up on her discomfort. She did not like the dress she was wearing, or the room they were in. She didn¡¯t even like the tea she was served. She was a cornered animal with higher intelligence. Unless she was a supreme actress, she wanted none of the riches around her or the power she now wielded.


    ¡°I shall try,¡± the princess said. Now she seemed even more ill at ease.


    ¡°When you¡¯re comfortable doing so,¡± he said. ¡°And as for what I want, we can talk about that later.¡±


    She stiffened. He wished he could be like her and give her simple requests. Access to the library was not a request at all. Unfortunately, he had harder things to ask of her. No matter how much she appeared to not want to involve herself in politics, she would never be able to avoid it. If she wanted to survive, she would have to pick a side, gain allies and supporters.


    There was more he had to ask her. Soon everyone would start expecting a royal heir. Cheran ran a hand through his hair. Everyone would be expecting a child from a woman who had come an inch away from becoming a priestess and dedicating her entire life to prayer and study. He wasn¡¯t sure of how monasteries worked in Noumin, but the ones he knew of had a strict segregation of the sexes.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to spend some time together,¡± he said. ¡°I would like us to become friends.¡±


    Them appearing to like each other would gain her some advantage in the court.


    ¡°Alright,¡± she said. ¡°I would like that also.¡±


    She didn¡¯t look like she did. Cheran clapped his hands, motioning for the servants to come back in.


    ¡°What kind of tea do you like?¡± he asked. ¡°This one doesn¡¯t seem to your taste.¡±


    ¡°I like hickory tea,¡± she said. Cheran cocked his head. He¡¯d never heard of it. Seeing his confusion, she continued, ¡°I also like black tea, peppermint, chamomile, dandelion¡­¡±


    ¡°You heard the princess. Please bring her any of the teas she just mentioned,¡± he said.


    ¡°Without sugar or milk, please,¡± she added, to the servant. Cheran smiled at her saying ¡®please¡¯. They did not request things, they demanded them. She would get used to her new station in life with time.


    ¡°Yes, your highness,¡± the servant said, offering her a bow. When they were alone again, Cheran leaned against the back of the diwan.


    ¡°So, what do you like to do?¡± Cheran asked. He knew it was a stupid question the second the words were out of his mouth. Those in monasteries woke up at dawn, prayed, farmed their monastic fields, and in general lived lives of penance for other peoples¡¯ sins. She liked to read, but even the seeking out of knowledge was deemed a godly venture. He compared her possible answers to how he would answer the question. He spent his nights wandering the streets of the city, getting drunk, enjoying his time with various courtesans, listening to musicians, buying art. He was a hedonist married to an ascetic.


    ¡°I like reading,¡± she ventured. ¡°I like learning new things. I like gardening.¡±


    He was not surprised. ¡°You would like our gardens here, I think. I can give you a tour of them if you would like. You could plant some hickory, if we don¡¯t have it.¡±


    And he kept digging his grave deeper. He never said foolish things. Over the years, he¡¯d learn to first ape and then later skillfully imitate his father¡¯s manner of speech and behavior. He spoke little, and people assumed that he was at least of average intelligence. If he had taken active part in politics, he might have earned a false reputation of being his father¡¯s son. However, usually his father left him no work to do, and even if there was, his father ended up improving on whatever he did. He had no idea what hickory was, from her expression.


    ¡°You can call me Vayu,¡± she said. ¡°If you would like.¡±Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°I would like that,¡± he said.


    Before he could say more things to embarrass himself, he stood up. ¡°Would you like to see the library now?¡±


    It had been years since he visited the library. His private tutors had liked taking classes in the library, but since he had completed the level of education his father deemed adequate, he learned more in court. Practical learning, as he thought of it. Sometimes his father references historical battles and treaties, but so far Cheran had been able to piece together an understanding of what his father meant through context.


    ¡°Actually, I might start reading myself,¡± he said. It would be nice to actually know what was going on during the war meetings instead of nodding along and pretending. It would also be nice spending some time with the princess. They left his manor and made their way to the main castle, where the royal library occupied two floors.


    ¡°What kind of books do you like to read?¡± he asked.


    ¡°History, philosophy,¡± she said. ¡°But I will read anything I find interesting. What do you like?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m the same,¡± he lied. He hadn¡¯t read a book in the last few years. The empire had conquered two small nations since he¡¯d last stepped into the library. Vayu smiled at him, though, and he decided he would turn the white lie into truth. There was no harm in learning a bit more.


    They walked side by side, a few feet between them. The sky was beautiful. There was a sharp bite of cold in the air, with the approaching winter. Her dress was made of silk, and despite the shawl she wore over her shoulders, she looked cold. She pulled the shawl closer across herself, and Cheran took off his jacket. He placed it over her shoulders, and she flinched away at the unexpected touch.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said. He was cold without his jacket, but he was warm too. She looked good in his clothing, and seemed more comfortable in the oversized jacket than her own dress.


    ¡°Also, we should get some new clothing made for you, for the winter,¡± he said. ¡°Daivian winters are much harsher than you¡¯d have seen in Noumin.¡±


    It also would suit her to wear clothing she actually liked. She looked pretty in the dress, with its fluttery sleeves and lace embroidery, but it did not suit her. It was fashionable and meant to be seductive, but he could see that it was someone else¡¯s choice. He imagined that if it was left to her choice, she would choose heavier materials, deeper colors, high-necked blouses and straight lines. It wasn¡¯t usually his preference for how women dressed, but she would be happier in such things.


    Cheran knew he was showing her more kindness, giving her more thought, than was necessary. He felt bad for her, but he¡¯d felt bad for other people and left them to their fate without any guilt whatsoever. He wanted her to be happy. Perhaps it was because of the permanence of their connection. Marriage.


    Marriage was monumental in most peoples¡¯ lives, and they were interacting with each other like the wedding had been just a formality. Short of some nation falling, they were joined to each other until death. The reluctant princess, almost priestess, was his wife. He was responsible for her happiness. Everything else in his life, his father had taken care of, but Vayu was solely his responsibility. Everything he had and everything he was, it was an extension of his father. He was his father¡¯s son, the heir. All the territories he had and the titles he held were passed down from his father and grandfather.


    The librarian stood upon seeing him enter. There were a few scholars in the massive room, poring over books that were not available in the university library outside the castle walls. If it were just him, he would probably spend the day taking one of the horses out for a ride. He wondered if Vayu knew how to ride.


    Vayu seemed to walk slower once she was past the threshold of the library. She handed him his jacket back and headed towards the librarian, inquiring quietly about the organization of the room. The librarian, although initially flustered, escorted her to the aisles that held the history books. Once she had picked out a few books, she settled down at the one of the tables and started reading. Oddly, Cheran felt invisible. Instead of searching for books on his own, he sat opposite her and picked up one of the books she¡¯d chosen.


    The Alchemical Era, he read. He vaguely recalled hearing of the era, but it was history that had no connection the present. The alchemical era existed before Daivia was even an idea. It was an age where magic was still alive, and he personally thought more of the era was fiction than fact. The books and stories told of magic and mythical creatures. He couldn¡¯t imagine such things ever existing in the same world as he did.


    He looked over the top of his book at what Vayu was reading. Her book was more pragmatic, covering the War of Greenbow from a century before. It was a war waged by Daivia against Magra. Magra still existed, but it was now a province of the empire. It was one of the wars that cemented Daivia¡¯s status as an empire. From what he knew though, it was nothing fascinating. It was a story of perseverance bordering on madness. His great-grandfather was ready to sacrifice anything to possess Magra. The books glorified him, called him courageous, and a hero.


    Cheran was sure the common people thought the same. Magra was a beautiful province, and rich. But sitting in war rooms and seeing the numbers lost to war, he knew that the province was paid for in full, with blood and suffering.


    ¡°Do you like books on war?¡± he whispered. He knew the librarian wouldn¡¯t dare chastise him, but he felt Vayu might.


    She looked up at him, startled out of the book.


    ¡°I like knowing the past,¡± she said.

 10 - Vayu

    She had completely forgotten her situation and who she was with. She was with the crown prince, ignoring him for old books. Instead of being surprised or irritated with her, he was instead asking her questions.


    ¡°Can I borrow these?¡± she asked. She never felt comfortable having conversations in libraries. When he nodded, she picked up the books. ¡°Let¡¯s go to my quarters now.¡±


    She liked reading in privacy better, curled up in an armchair, in her nightgown, uninterrupted by other people. She would save the books for the evening. She started to leave the library with the books under her arm when the crown prince stopped her. Instead, he gently took the books from her and called the librarian.


    ¡°Please have these books sent to the princess¡¯s rooms,¡± he said. He paused for a moment.


    Vayu had forgotten the luxury of having other people do everything for her. In the monastery, she had been responsible for everything related to herself. She washed her clothes, cleaned her room, and cut her hair herself. Everyone pulled their weight to make the monastery running and to keep everyone fed and clothed. Here, she didn¡¯t have to lift a finger.


    It was a blissful existence, having everyone around her ready to make things more convenient. But it felt like an existence she couldn¡¯t get used to. It had been taken away once before. In Daivia, she didn¡¯t even have the security of a birthright. As if it were natural, the crown prince took her hand in his and ushered her out of the library.


    His hand was so much bigger than hers, and warm. She was used to holding hands with her fellow novices at the monastery, but that was sisterly and playful. They would walk, arms swinging, to the local village. This was different. The action of holding hands felt like a silent proclamation. She could gently extricate herself, walk a few steps away. But people were unpredictable. She did not know how a crown prince would take a gentle rejection from her. Before she could steel herself to remove her hand, Cheran moved closer to her, looping her arm around his. He leaned down to her ear, and she felt his breath on her neck before he spoke.


    ¡°There are a few courtiers on the path, looking at us. I think it would benefit you¡ª us, if we appeared to like one another,¡± he said. ¡°We can stop once they¡¯re out of sight.¡±


    She saw them seconds later, a gaggle of women and men glancing over at them under parasols, from a nearby path. So it was a pretense.


    ¡°Now, continue what you were telling me earlier,¡± he said. ¡°You said you liked knowing the past.¡±


    She had forgotten what she was going to say to him. There was something about their proximity that she couldn¡¯t ignore. He was taller than her, and she liked the way she stood in his shade. As they walked, it did not feel so wrong to walk arm in arm.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°I like learning about people, I suppose,¡± she said. ¡°History tells us about people and their motivations. It tells us how to avoid their mistakes, if we read carefully.¡±


    ¡°What kind of mistakes?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I was reading earlier about the alchemical era. I¡¯ve read a few books on the period, and it¡¯s a story of fear and greed. People feared the power of magic, and they were greedy for the miracles that some mythical creatures could perform. Unicorns were hunted to extinction for their blood. Dragons were shot out of the sky. Perhaps it was covetousness too. The people of Noumin worshiped the sea and its gods, but saw its magical beings as enemies. We fought against the mer and selkies until they retreated so far into the ocean they must have forgotten the surface.¡±


    ¡°You believe in those old tales?¡± the prince asked.


    Vayu shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t think it matters if the stories are true. The sentiment is true. Time after time, people find differences among each other, to form factions and fight against one another. The concept of unity depends more on what differentiates us from another group, rather than what we have in common with our allies. Wars have the power to convert normal people into villains, for the justification of greed.¡±


    ¡°Like the war that just ended?¡±


    ¡°I admire that about your father. He does not hide behind a facade of ideology or righteousness. He wanted access to Noumin¡¯s ports. His objectives were clear from the beginning.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know him very well, yet,¡± he commented. His tone was darker now, and Vayu decided to change the topic.


    ¡°I don¡¯t always just read history and philosophy,¡± she said lightly. ¡°Sometimes I like reading novels. My friends and I had to smuggle them in from the village. Most novels were romantic ones, you see, and the priestesses did not approve.¡±


    ¡°No doubt,¡± the prince said, his earlier dark mood gone. ¡°I liked reading novels as well, when I was younger. The library has a collection of adventure novels. I heard that they belonged to my uncle, from his childhood.¡±


    They reached a garden and Cheran let go of her arm. The garden was different from other ones she¡¯d seen on the castle grounds. There was less manicured grass in this garden. Pools of water were covered in lotuses and water lilies. Instead of manicured bushes, there were trees with low-hanging branches, offering shade to low stone benches and intricate statues of sleeping animals.


    Cheran sat one of the low benches and Vayu sat next to him. The garden was cold, and she gratefully took Cheran¡¯s jacket again.


    ¡°I don¡¯t really like reading,¡± he admitted. ¡°I like riding horses, fighting, drinking, and a lot of other things the priestesses would disapprove of.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t live in a monastery,¡± Vayu said. She shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not surprised.¡±


    ¡°I want you to have a good life here, Vayu. It will not be easy,¡± he said. ¡°The empire is not kind to newcomers, no matter what benefits they bring. It¡¯s good that they will think we are fond of one another, but there will be expectations for you.¡±


    She knew what he was saying. She understand why he wanted to discuss what he wanted later. She could ask for little things, but she could not live in the castle like a visitor. She was to be part of the family, and everyone in the royal family had a role. The queen was long gone, and she would have to fulfill some of those responsibilities. Coming from a hostile nation, she would have to prove her loyalty to Daivia. She would eventually be expected to produce an heir. The crown prince could marry again if she failed, but she did not know the empire¡¯s attitude towards barren wives.


    ¡°I¡¯m only telling you because I want you to be prepared,¡± Cheran said. ¡°I can imagine that your life from before was peaceful and simple. From now, it definitely will not be.¡±

 11 - Raval

    Raval saw the prince and princess walking hand in hand across the paths. Only a day, and the crown prince was wrapped around her finger. A decade in a monastery had not changed the girl at all. She made her way back to the guest rooms she¡¯d been given, and ordered her servants to start packing.


    She had gotten rid of the girl in the most definitive way outside of death. A crown princess of Daivia could not be a queen of Noumin. Eshal¡¯s rule was safe. She was still uneasy leaving him alone, even with her father there. Eshal was easily influenced by people. It was more than him being a child. It was in his nature to trust, to be kind. Raval knew it was something he had gotten from his father. Her side of the family was not so generous or forgiving.


    By dusk, she was ready to leave. If she was lucky, she would be back with Eshal within a week. They were allies and partners now with Daivia, and so she might have to see the girl in the future, but she was Daivia¡¯s problem now. Raval remembered her early days in Noumin¡¯s court, as the new queen. People deferred to a teenage girl over her. They trusted an adolescent¡¯s judgment over hers. It had taken the king¡¯s death and her machinations to power for the hierarchy to change.


    She wanted to leave the empire, the castle, and the unfamiliar people. Again, she felt that old inferiority while she was around them. In Noumin, she was a queen. No, she was the queen. In Daivia, she was just another queen. Worse, she was the queen of a small nation. There were duchesses wealthier than her, merchants with grander castles. She felt provincial among them. She only wanted to go home to Eshal, who she knew would be missing her already.


    By the time they started, it was well after dark. Daivia¡¯s capital had so many torches, so many people, that the light dulled even the darkness of the sky. Raval stood outside while her carriage was loaded with her luggage, eager to start. Some of the courtiers she¡¯d met during the wedding festivities came to wish her farewell. She did not expect such a courtesy from the girl, but she came to greet her.


    Again, she was arm in arm with the crown prince. They looked comfortable with each other, and it irked Raval. For Raval¡¯s happiness, she¡¯d had to marry a man two decades her senior. She¡¯d had to wait until he died, and spent years building the connections necessary to seat her son on the throne. After Eshal¡¯s position was solidified, she had lived as a widow, because her position and Eshal¡¯s would be threatened if she married again. Instead, she had to live as the celibate, untouchable queen regent.


    She had hoped the girl would be miserable in Hethyra. There were plenty of cliffs that an orphan could jump off of, but instead the girl had made a new life there. She had taken to the simplicity and discipline like a fish to water, and nearly become a priestess. Now, in the span of a few weeks she was a crown princess in a new country, and already she had made an ally out of her new husband.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The crown prince must have seen his fair share of beautiful women. Daivia had no shortage of them, and any woman would be interested in the crown prince. But the man was interested in the plain little thing next to him, in her fine dress and mismatched shawl. No matter what she did, the girl landed on her feet. Raval despised her.


    ¡°I wish you a safe journey,¡± the girl said. The crown prince¡¯s arm was around the girl¡¯s shoulder. If Raval did not know better, she would think he was in love.


    But she knew the girl¡¯s tricks, because Raval had played those same tricks years before. When a woman was small, when she was fragile, spoke softly and acted vulnerable, it made some men want to protect them. Now Raval was too jaded to pull off the act. The girl acted like she was above Raval, above manipulation, yet she manipulated people anyway.


    ¡°I wish you a happy marriage,¡± Raval responded, her smile strained, and her wish insincere.


    The girl shrunk back against the crown prince, and Raval stepped into her carriage. She saw the young couple disappear into the darkness as the carriage picked up speed and left through the castle compound¡¯s main gates. The roads were dark, and the few days before had been exhausting. She had signed treaties, negotiated the details, and eked out a final bargain that she was happy with. Noumin had been on the brink of ruin, and now they were looking at prosperity. Raval closed her eyes and smiled, thinking of the things she could do for Eshal with the money that would soon come in.


    On the third day of travel, they neared the border to Noumin as the first inklings of sunlight started lightening the horizon. Raval was fast asleep when the carriage stopped in the middle of the road. The carriage stopped in the middle of the road. The forest was silent except for a single voice. A woman stood at the side of the road, her dark curls wet against her face. She sang, her voice smooth and clear. She swayed as she sang, like the song was a lullaby. Those in the carriages stepped out. The horses stood still while their riders and owners stepped off of the road and into the water of the coast.


    With winter approaching, the water was cold. Raval did not feel the cold. Instead, she felt Eshal¡¯s warm embrace as she took each step. Instead of the woman¡¯s song, she heard Eshal happily telling her of what he¡¯d done while she was gone. When she was neck deep in the choppy waves, her foot caught on a sharp rock and she woke. She was surrounded by her guards, by the old coachman, by her servants. She was in the middle of the ocean, in the dark. The water was ink, the sky was starless, and every step she took towards the shore was a struggle.


    Someone pulled her back. Raval tried to wake her guards, or the old coachman. They all kept walking forward, until their heads disappeared beneath the water and slowly, the water stilled. Raval lifted her feet off from the sand, preparing to kick and swim her way to shore, only to have something grab onto both her feet and pull down, down, down.

 12 - Vayu

    The stables were present behind the castle. It was a massive building on its own, filled with hundreds of horses. Vayu scrunched her nose, trying to avoid the smell. The stable smelled as good as any place could smell that housed hundreds of animals.


    ¡°I would not want to be downwind of this place,¡± she murmured.


    ¡°No one does,¡± Cheran said. ¡°The price we pay for these beautiful beasts.¡±


    She remembered her old horse, a dappled gray mare that had stayed behind at the castle when she was sent to the monastery. Her aunt had discreetly purchased Misty, and the horse had lived out the rest of her life at her aunt¡¯s estate. The monastery had a few pack horses for carrying supplies to and from the village, but she never rode the horses.


    She never told anyone at the monastery of her love of horses. It seemed like a rich girl¡¯s passion, owning and riding horses. Her mare had been bred only for riding. There was no practicality there, just pure frivolousness. So she had let other novices ride into the village. Maybe it was needless loyalty that kept her from getting close to other animals.


    Cheran chose two horses for them. They were both riding horses, one a pure black and the other a chestnut with a white star on her forehead.


    ¡°You choose,¡± he said.


    She picked the chestnut one. The mare was docile.


    ¡°Are you a good rider?¡± he asked. ¡°I can help you if you are not, or if you are out of practice.¡±


    In the few memories she had of her mother, she and her mother had nearly lived on horses. Her mother was a warrior, a horsewoman, and Vayu wondered if anyone could ever truly forget the feeling of being on a horse, whether fear could crawl into the place where there should only be joy at the feeling of wind in her hair and the speed. The lovely velocity of riding, with the drumming beats of hoofs against hard ground.


    ¡°I¡¯m a good rider,¡± she said, swinging herself up into the horse¡¯s saddle. They rode out of the castle compound, a small group of soldiers riding a few hundred yards behind them. The castle stood at the very end of the city, and behind it there was only fields, farmland, and a small woods for hunting. She urged her mare into a gallop, not caring as strands of hair came loose from her plait.


    The air was cleaner outside the castle, and the absence of other people was refreshing. She did not have to care about her posture or the way she spoke. While Daivians and Nouminese both spoke the common language of the Fessian continent, there were distinct differences. Her accent was different from Cheran¡¯s, and as she spoke to him more, she realized the millions of minute differences in the dialects. They had different idioms, different ways of saying the same words, and different spellings as well. Each country was convinced that their form of the language was the correct one. As they reached the end of the field, near the border to the woods, she slowed her horse down and waited for Cheran to catch up with her.


    ¡°You are a good rider,¡± he said.


    ¡°It seems I haven¡¯t forgotten my lessons,¡± she said.


    ¡°And you like her, the mare?¡± he asked.


    Vayu stroke the mare¡¯s neck, and the animal whinnied in response. She was a friendly creature, eager to please and docile, but willing to run like the wind.


    ¡°I do like her,¡± she said. ¡°She¡¯s sweet.¡±


    ¡°Her name is Iola,¡± he said. ¡°Although you could rename her if you want.¡±


    ¡°Iola is lovely,¡± she said, leaning down and wrapping her arms around Iola¡¯s neck.


    In the distance, she saw a speck racing towards them. As it approached, she saw that it was a man on a horse, in a full gallop. For a second their guard stiffened in response to a possible attack. On seeing that the man wore Daivian livery, they relaxed slightly.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    ¡°Your highness, we need you at the castle immediately!¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡± Cheran asked.


    The messenger stopped for a moment to take a deep breath. It seemed that he had run to the stables and raced to find them.


    He began again once he caught his breath, ¡°Queen Raval has passed away.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Raval was not even forty years old. She lived with a fury that couldn¡¯t be extinguished, or so Vayu had thought.


    ¡°What?¡± Vayu asked.


    ¡°We¡¯ve just received word from Noumin. The emperor has called for both of you to meet him in his chambers.¡±


    She urged Iola back into a gallop, towards the castle. By the time they reached the emperor¡¯s chambers, both she and Cheran were out of breath. From inside, she could hear hushed conversations and the rustling of robes. The guard at the entrance announced their arrival, and opened the door for them to enter. Inside, the emperor was poring over a massive table. It was a recreation of the continent of Fessia, accurate down to the topography and the roads. Little toy soldiers stood in neat squares in places along the path. Every flat surface was covered in a thin layer of sand.


    ¡°Yes, daughter,¡± the emperor said, calling Vayu to his side. ¡°You might help me.¡±


    As an afterthought, he met her eyes. ¡°My condolences for the queen¡¯s death.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, your majesty,¡± she mumbled. The emperor, after his brief display of sympathy, was again razor focused on the miniature continent before him.


    ¡°I am trying to understand what happened,¡± he said.


    ¡°Understand what?¡± she asked, looking at the stretch of land that he was looking at. It was a path along Noumin¡¯s coast, bordered by woods on one side and the beach on the other. She remembered the area from her childhood. It was an isolated area, where the coast dipped quickly and unexpectedly. It wasn¡¯t a safe place for swimmers or sailors, and so most people left the segment of coast alone. As a result, there were no villages or towns nearby.


    ¡°Queen Raval and her entourage were discovered here,¡± the emperor said. ¡°All of them were washed ashore, drowned. Their horses and carriages were found a short distance away, unharmed.¡±


    ¡°They were attacked?¡± Vayu asked.


    The emperor shook his head. ¡°No, none of them had any wounds on their body. Most of the soldiers still had weapons at their waists, sheathed. None of the horses had any wounds. The carriages were left in good working conditions.¡±


    The emperor took a long wooden pointer and drew a circle where Queen Raval had died. He drew lines outwards to possible nations. There was Verne, which bordered Noumin to the west. They also wanted access to Noumin¡¯s coasts, but they were not in such dire need as Daivia. They had a small amount of coastline themselves, and they would not make such a risk against their neighboring, and especially not after Noumin had acquired such a powerful ally.


    ¡°I cannot think of who could have done this,¡± the emperor said. ¡°Or how. Bandits would not be so clean. Queen Raval¡¯s jewelry was apparently still in the carriage. Her handmaids¡¯ belongings as well, have been undisturbed. Other nations gain nothing by killing the queen.¡±


    ¡°I think,¡± Vayu said. She wasn¡¯t sad about Raval¡¯s death. For some reason, she had always that expected Raval would not live to see old age. Raval did not seem the kind that would like living to be old, and she made more enemies than friends on a regular basis. However, she was worried for Eshal. ¡°I think someone wants to create chaos. I don¡¯t know who that is, but the queen dying throws doubt on a lot of people. We¡¯ll see each other as suspects, all of us.¡±


    The continent was already in strife, nations on the verge of war. Fessia had limited resources, and as the empire expanded, smaller nations were warring for whatever was left. It was a good time to cause trouble.


    ¡°But the how, I cannot understand it,¡± Vayu said. ¡°It¡¯s like they all walked into the ocean.¡±


    They all walked into the ocean, she thought to herself. It reminded her of the book from the morning. The myth would explain what had happened to Queen Raval, but Daivians were skeptical of the old stories. Sirens were lesser known than the mer people, and they were supposed to be more rare as well.


    However, one siren would be all that it took. One song and all of them could have walked into a watery end. Vayu was almost tempted to explain her theory, but she stopped herself. She was still new to the castle, and while the emperor and Cheran appeared kind, perhaps they wouldn¡¯t be so kind to her whimsical fantasies.


    ¡°Well, it only means that we must move ahead with our plans all that much sooner,¡± the emperor said. ¡°Whoever did this has done us a favor.¡±


    ¡°A favor?¡± Cheran asked.


    ¡°From what our Nouminese sources tell us,¡± the emperor said. ¡°The country is in chaos. There is a power struggle, as the young king is now only protected by his elderly grandfather. His mother¡¯s allies have shifted allegiances to other factions. There are cousins who are proclaiming their right to the throne. Their logic is that as King Eshal is not the firstborn, he is not legitimate.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡±


    The emperor looked at her again, and placed a hand on her shoulder. ¡°It is time to put the next part of our plan into action.¡±


    ¡°What plan?¡± Cheran asked.


    ¡°Son, did you really think I would let you marry a woman without power or any promise?¡± Emperor Avyan asked. ¡°You are married to the Lady of Noumin, the leader of our soon-to-be province.¡±

 13 - Dhravan

    Court felt like a battlefield each and every day. The young men, both near and distant relatives of his grandson, grew more brave each day. They flouted the king¡¯s authority and the hierarchy of the court, testing the boundaries of his patience. Lord Dhravan wished he had the opportunity to mourn his daughter, but he had to protect the king. Mourning could be done in times of peace. The emperor had sent his condolences from Daivia, and Dhravan believed they were not behind Raval¡¯s death, but he could not rule out anyone.


    Whoever had killed his daughter had left behind no clues and no witnesses. There had not even been a struggle, from what he saw of the aftermath. The oldest of Eshal¡¯s cousins came into the throne room, wearing an elaborate hat that almost resembled Eshal¡¯s crown. Chavik had somehow become the frontrunner among those seeking to overthrow Eshal. Dhravan did not know what the other cousins saw in the boy, but Chavik was their leader. Each following day, he became more confident in his right to become king.


    ¡°The king, it appears, is still not in court,¡± Chavik drawled. It was true that his grandson had not been in court since Raval had left for Daivia. At first, he had sulked as children did when their mothers were absent. The sulking had transformed into inconsolable sorrow when Dhravan told him of Raval¡¯s death. At the moment, Eshal was in the company of his nursemaids, being coddled like the child that he was.


    ¡°The king has sent me as his proxy,¡± Lord Dhravan said. ¡°The king does not owe his subjects an explanation for his absence.¡±


    ¡°I think he does,¡± Chavik said, his voice quavering. ¡°A kingdom is only as good as the king who rules it, and I believe Noumin is capable of so much more. Our ports are being overtaken by foreigners, our coasts are open to men from strange lands. In the name of trade and diplomacy, we have given up our sovereign right to our seas!¡±


    ¡°We would have given up everything if we did not negotiate,¡± Lord Dhravan said. ¡°Do you think we could have won a war against Daivia?¡±


    ¡°I think we could have,¡± Chavik said. ¡°If we were not ruled then, by a suckling child and his mother.¡±


    ¡°That child is of royal blood!¡±


    ¡°Is he?¡± Chavik asked. He cocked his head and looked over at the other young men in the room, his lackeys. King Ghaman and most in his family possessed the same thick dark hair, the strong and straight features. Eshal had inherited his features from Raval¡¯s side of the family. His skin reddened at the slightest insult, his features were soft and almost fairy-like.


    ¡°Is he really?¡± Chavik asked again, this time a mocking smile on his face.


    It was a cheap thing to do, to question the parentage of a child whose parents both had departed from the world. If he were a few decades younger, Dhravan would have challenged the man to a duel. However, honor was a rare thing in court. In his days, men lived and died for honor. With time, people had realized that honor did not fill their stomachs or line their pockets. Now, they lived and died for power. They lied and stole for power.


    If he harmed the idiotic, avaricious young man, he would be asking for retribution from half of court. His defenders would say the punishment was too severe for a few throwaway words.


    ¡°Any more from you will considered as treason,¡± Dhravan said.


    ¡°It is only treasonous if it is a lie,¡± Chavik said. ¡°But our suspicions are not unfounded. Everyone knew how fond the late queen was of that gardener you had on your estate. So fond that you found it necessary to remove him from your estate and send him away.¡±


    Dhravan¡¯s jaw tightened. The gardener boy was one of Raval¡¯s foolish mistakes while she was young. It was years before she had met the king, while she was barely a girl. There had been gossip, but it had died down over the years. Now Chavik had resurrected the rumor, and given it new life.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    People would forget the fuzzy details, in search of salaciousness. The queen had been involved with a gardener, the young king did not resemble his father very much. Those two details were enough to write an entirely new story, and Chavik knew it. Any action against the young man now would only seem like Dhravan was trying to silence the truth.


    ¡°Refrain from spreading untruths, Lord Chavik. King Eshal is his father¡¯s son,¡± Dhravan said.


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Chavik conceded. ¡°Yet he is still not the rightful heir. The rightful heir is now the crown princess of a nation we were at war with only months ago. She was first forced out of her birthright, and then out of her home country. When the future ruler of the nation can change so easily, it seems possible that it could change again. We live in such uncertain times.¡±


    The moron who¡¯d only started growing a beard two years ago did not know how uncertain time was, shooting off his mouth without thought to who he was talking to. It would be difficult to deal with his family if Dhravan went after him for treason, but it would not be impossible. Everything would be easier if Eshal was in court, but he was younger than his years and had taken to residing in his quarters. He was too heartbroken to do anything after Raval¡¯s death, and Dhravan did not know who could bring him out of his sorrow. Raval was the only one who could have, and she was gone.


    ¡°You are banished from court for the next month,¡± Lord Dhravan announced. It was a double-edged sword, he knew. Chavik could use the punishment as an opportunity to form a court of his own in his estate. He had enough followers, he was the old king¡¯s nephew, and people preferred to see an adult on the throne over an eleven year old. ¡°Take this time to reflect upon your actions. Lord Serya will take over your responsibilities until you return.¡±


    Lord Serya looked up. He was one Chavik¡¯s lackeys, but far more cautious than the group¡¯s leaders. He was a second son, still young, and unsure of himself. Most important of all, Serya resembled the old king the most among the king¡¯s nephews and nieces. The others in the group turned their attention away from Chavik and towards Serya. They now had a choice between followed a banished boy, and someone among them who Lord Dhravan appeared to prefer. If they fell in line behind Serya, they could stay at court, stay closer to the true seat of power.


    Dhravan smiled at the young lord, who was looking back at him in confusion.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you will be a valuable adviser to our king, Lord Serya,¡± he said.


    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± the young lord stuttered out. He was finally grasping that he had been given an opportunity. If he was an opportunist, he would do the same thing as Chavik. If he was intelligent, he would choose to gain a safer and more permanent kind of power, one where he could be a fixture at court and a decision maker.


    ¡°Court is adjourned for today,¡± Dhravan said. He was feeling his age, more and more. He had outlived his daughter, and that itself had aged him ten years. In the mornings, he felt the aches in his knees. His hands were covered in spidery lines, his eyes bordered by crows¡¯ feet. Sometimes he blamed himself for the sacrifices they¡¯d had to make with Daivia. If he was younger, they might have had better chances.


    He made his out of the throne room and started to walk towards his bed chambers. His chambers overlooked the training yard and the soldiers¡¯ barracks. It wasn¡¯t the most peaceful part of the castle, but it gave him an advantage. He woke early in the mornings to the sounds of the soldiers training. From his window, he could see who was a promising talent. If he ever felt his age, he could spar with the young soldiers to keep himself sharp.


    When he entered his sitting room, there was a woman sitting on his sofa. She was dressed like a commoner, in their simple blouses and layered dark skirts. Her hair was loose around her shoulders and damp. If he saw her in the corridors, he would assume that he was one of the many maids that came in and out of the castle. However, she sat imperiously. She gave him a crooked smile, and it reminded him of Raval.


    ¡°Lord Dhravan,¡± the woman said. ¡°It is so nice to finally meet in person.¡±


    ¡°Can I help you?¡±


    Over the years he had grown used to women showing up in strange places. He was a widower with immeasurable wealth and no children to inherit. Raval had forfeited her right to his estate by marrying into the royal family. Over the years, as his hair went white, families had shoved numerous young women in front of him. He had never been interested. The nephew who was set to inherit his wealth was a nice boy who would do well in maintaining their family name and their wealth. Some of the women shown to him were Raval¡¯s playmates, friends. It did not matter that society would accept such a union. He certainly couldn¡¯t.


    ¡°I wanted to enlighten you,¡± the woman said. Dhravan waited for some awkward seduction, some shedding of clothing. The woman instead dusted off some lint from her old, worn skirt. ¡°I was sent here to relay your daughters¡¯ last words, or what my sister could make out of them.¡±

 14 - Cheran

    Another message had arrived from Noumin. This one spoke of Lord Dhravan¡¯s illness. He had also been absent at the wedding, but Cheran knew of him. He was the reason why Noumin hadn¡¯t crumbled in front of Daivia like other small nations, the reason that they¡¯d had to make concessions and negotiate. The message they received said that Lord Dhravan had not woken from a sleep, and been found nearly dead the next morning by his valet. He was not dead, but everyone expected him to be within a few weeks. The emperor had asked their Nouminese source, and the source revealed that while the physicians were so far successful in keeping him alive, he was elderly and not showing signs of improvement.


    Someone was targeting Noumin, and they were not missing. His father was speaking to the members of the war council. It appeared that they were planning an attempt completely conquer the small nation while it was in chaos. Vayu was constantly invited in to listen, but she stayed silent as the emperor spoke about who could be the one behind the deaths. Cheran knew it was in part to assure Vayu that Daivia was not behind the odd events happening in Noumin.


    His father was cunning and was not above assassination, but he would not lie to family. Vayu, despite the newness of their marriage, was still part of the family. Cheran hoped, at least, that his father was being honest with both of them. He seemed honest, but he also seemed almost pleased with the way things were going.


    Vayu had retreated into her rooms, spending her time reading. She still came out to take a stroll with him, had dinner with him, but she was not freely herself. He was always the second thing on her mind, even when they were right next to each other. He knew she was thinking of her younger brother, now alone and defenseless in Noumin. He wished there was something he could do, but so far they had received no negative news.


    He wished he could take her to Noumin, that he could bring the young king to Daivia. It wasn¡¯t so simple. Their two nations were both depleted from the war. Anything they did could result in unwanted consequences, in attacks from other surrounding countries. Hastiness could cause harm to her brother.


    ¡°Do you want to go into the city?¡± he asked. They were outside the library, in one of the parlors nearby. It was a bright and sunny room, and there was a table filled with food and drinks in front of them. Vayu, he¡¯d noticed, had lost weight since she came to the castle. It was strange, knowing she¡¯d eaten better in the monastery than she did at her new home.


    ¡°Can we?¡± she asked.


    It wasn¡¯t the safest time for them to roam the city, but if they took reasonable precautions they would be safe.


    ¡°I think if we go in disguise, we should be fine,¡± Cheran said. ¡°We can go to the market, see a few bookstores, have lunch, and come back by sunset.¡±


    ¡°In disguise?¡±


    ¡°Better for the people around us to think we are just travelers exploring the city. It¡¯s the only way to travel in peace.¡±


    They outfitted themselves in plainer clothes and met each other in front of the main entrance. People saw what they wanted to see. A person wearing a crown was a royal, a person in rich clothes was a lord, lady, or merchant, someone in uniform was a soldier, and someone wearing poorer, hardier clothing was peasantry.


    ¡°Who are we?¡± Cheran asked.


    ¡°You¡¯re a merchant from Vasthi, and I¡¯m your wife,¡± Vayu said dutifully. ¡°We¡¯re traveling through the continent for pleasure.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s an odd time to travel for pleasure, but let¡¯s say I¡¯m an merchant who likes living on the edge,¡± Cheran joked, trying to cheer her up. Vayu smiled lightly, humoring him but not finding the joke funny. She fixed the hat atop her hair with a hat pin and took his hand. She was more comfortable with him than others in the castle, and even tolerated Obal¡¯s presence occasionally if she was by Cheran¡¯s side.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    The guards who came around them were dressed like they were. They would say that they were a group of couples traveling together, and it was believable. Vayu¡¯s old maids had left for Noumin the moment they heard of Lrod Dhravan¡¯s illness. Losing Queen Raval was one thing, but Lord Dhravan was a pillar that had kept the country together for many years. If he was also gone, there was no saying what the conditions would be like in Noumin, and who would be safe. Now, she had hired hired local maids from the city.


    Out in Yerna, they pretended to be exiting from one of the castle tours. In the city, Cheran saw her tense up. She had been cooped up in the castle for weeks, but he¡¯d forgotten that she had unused to the mass of people that moved about in the capital city. Monasteries moved at slow paces, with every movement intentional instead of rushed. The city of Yerna could not be more different. It was the capital of Daivia, and in many ways, it was the capital of the continent. It was the center of culture and commerce, with people flowing in and out of it like a roaring river. The city never slept or rested.


    It was invigorating to join the throng, for him. For her, it must be overwhelming. He placed his arm around her shoulder and brought her closer towards himself.


    ¡°It¡¯s easy to get lost in the streets,¡± he explained, removing his arm and instead lacing his fingers through hers. He made sure to keep his grip strong. They waited for one of the city¡¯s many public carriages to pass through. The carriages had no doors, and were long, able to hold up to ten people at once. They were pulled by half a dozen well-trained, stocky horses. When the carriage arrived, they boarded, with one of the guards paying the coach driver extra to not take any more passengers.


    Cheran wondered if their ruse was truly successful. No matter how much he played at being normal, it was just acting, and he was not a good actor. Vayu took a seat by the edge, looking out at the various stores and stalls lining the streets. Seated a few feet above the chaos, it looked like she was relaxing and taking it in. When the carriage stopped due to traffic, vendors approached the carriage with little baskets of food to sell. He bought a few pastries, and Vayu took a bite as they rode further away from the castle. As they rode, the streets grew wider and the rough dirt gave way to cobbled stone. They were in one of the wealthier streets, where the richer merchants and tradesmen frequented. The streets were filled with nicer restaurants and tea shops. They got down from the carriage and entered a tea shop that was half filled with patrons.


    Inside, Vayu and he took the corner booth while the rest of the party took other tables around the shop. The waitress paused at the new group of people, and plastered on a huge smile before approaching their table. She slid two menus onto the booth table.


    ¡°Would you like some time to decide what you want?¡± she asked.


    ¡°What do you like?¡± Vayu asked. The girl didn¡¯t respond immediately.


    ¡°The pomegranate and blackberry tea,¡± the girl said, after thinking for a minute. ¡°It¡¯s really very good.¡±


    ¡°A cup of that for me, then,¡± Vayu said, sliding the menu back.


    ¡°Make it two, and a selection of macaroons,¡± Cheran said. Vayu had ignored the way the waitress bent over as she slid the menus towards them, the low cut of her blouse, her obvious focused attention on Cheran. He was used to such attention as a prince, but it was surprising that the attention did not disappear with his status. Perhaps the waitress saw the weight of the money pouch at his belt, or the glint of his gold rings. Whatever the reason, she was interested, and Vayu was unbothered.


    ¡°She was pretty,¡± Vayu said. She looked at him, her hands folded on her lap. It was surprising the simple ways that her monastic mannerisms came across elegant and unintentionally royal. Her gaze was level when she looked at him. ¡°I¡¯m perfectly fine if you want to seek out other womens¡¯ company. I know that you must have had lovers before the wedding.¡±


    It looked like she was preparing herself for the worst response. He knew that if it were another woman in front of him, someone less interesting, someone who knew more how much he liked her, he might have been tempted to stray. He might have been tempted to give up on understanding her and found someone simpler, whose desires and motivations might have been selfish but straightforward.


    Instead, he was hooked on her. He would wait, because the eventual payoff would be worth the wait. He would wait, because it was like his life could be split into a life before marriage, and a life with Vayu.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be with anyone else, but I will offer you the same freedom. If you fall in love with someone else, or if you have someone else, I won¡¯t stop you,¡± he said. He was lying, and he knew it, but he would try. On the off-chance that she was already in love with someone, he didn¡¯t want to become the villain in her life. He might remove the obstacle without her knowing, but that was another story.


    They got their tea, and Vayu took her first sip. Before Cheran could join her, she covered his cup with her hand. Her face was going pale, and she swallowed and took a deep breath before speaking.


    ¡°Don¡¯t drink it,¡± she said. ¡°I think it¡¯s poisoned.¡±

 15 - Vayu

    Vayu had spent years of her becoming prepared for death. She knew that her life, for years, was Queen Raval¡¯s mercy. In the years after she had been sent to the monastery, she knew she was just a loose string in Raval¡¯s plan to cement Eshal¡¯s reign. So she had distanced herself from desire. A monastery was an excellent place to do it, too.


    Over the years, she had become the ideal novice. She did not dream of family, of love, of freedom, and especially, she did not dream of having an iota of power. She wanted nothing, but perhaps access to knowledge and books. The farthest that her desire extended was to not die midway through an interesting book.


    Now though, she desperately wanted to live. Her new life had thing she could look forward to. She wanted to fall in love with Cheran completely. Bit by bit she was growing to love him each day, and she wanted that journey to continue. She wanted to have the hope of children, not because they would be heirs to a kingdom, but because she wanted children. She wanted to love something hopelessly and completely, the way she had been loved by her mother, to share that love with someone. That idyllic, fairytale love¡­ she wanted it so badly she could have killed for it.


    She was staring to have trouble breathing. She felt herself being carried by Cheran to the carriage. All pretense of them just being travelers and merchants were gone. Some of the guards remained behind to try to identify the poison and the poisoners. She felt like if she focused she might have been able to follow everything that was happening, but her mind felt like mush, her eyes wanted to close, and she just wanted to rest. The urge to let go of life and rest was almost as strong as her desire to live. Each breath was a struggle.


    Her body felt like it was her enemy, disobeying her every command. She wanted water and she wanted warmth. She was starting to shiver. Eventually, after seconds or minutes or hours, she was lowered into a warm bed, blankets wrapped around her. She was cold, her skin damp with sweat. She wanted to open her eyes, and tell Cheran that it would be alright.


    Her stomach recoiled, and for a brief moment she summoned the energy to rise slightly and vomit onto the ground next to her. It would be alright even if she died. Perhaps her destiny was to have happiness only for brief moments. Half a childhood of bliss had been followed by years of penance. Now mere moments of a good marriage were followed by poisoning.


    Someone came and started to examine her. They prodded at her skin, felt her pulse. Fingers forced her eyes open, and something dark and bitter was forced down her throat.


    ¡°She¡¯ll need a few days to recover,¡± an old, female voice said. Vayu didn¡¯t have the energy for curiosity. The dark liquid down her throat was half solid. It rolled down her throat like sludge, bit by bit reaching deeper parts of her throat. As it seeped in, she felt her lungs expand. She could take easier, shallower breaths. For the moment at least, death had been waylaid.


    ¡°Will she be alright?¡± Cheran asked, standing above her. She felt a hand reach out and grab her own, a thumb rubbing circles into her palm. He was trying to comfort her, and comfort himself.


    ¡°She got the antidote quickly,¡± the old woman said, her voice more gruff than before. ¡°She¡¯ll be fine. She¡¯d be better if¡­¡±


    Vayu thought she walked away then, as her voice grew fainter and she couldn¡¯t catch what the woman had said. Cheran paused, his grip on her hand getting a little bit lighter. Perhaps it wasn¡¯t that his grip got lighter, but that her consciousness was fading. The exhaustion of evading death had left her exhausted, and she wanted to sleep. Her brain, much like her eyes, refused to follow her commands.


    She fell into sleep. Normally, her sleep was dreamless. This sleep was different. She didn¡¯t know if it was the poison or the antidote, but something ushered in endless dreams. She dreamed of Raval, standing at the bottom of the ocean with her hands outstretched towards something only she could see. She saw Noumin¡¯s cliffs, falling away from earthquakes. She heard voices telling her she did not deserve the life she had, that she didn¡¯t deserve any life at all. She heard her father¡¯s voice, like an echo from a distance. She couldn¡¯t discern where her father¡¯s voice was coming from, or when it had sounded so threatening. Her father had been loving towards her in life, but perhaps that had only been her memories. She remembered the best parts of her father and forgot the worst parts. His weaknesses became sweet eccentricities in her memories, and perhaps she had completely erased deficiencies of his character.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    He could have formally announced that she was his heir was he was alive. He had chosen not to, and the lack of her formally being crown princess had given Raval a way to oust her from her life, to strip her of all the power she had by birth.


    ¡°You should¡¯ve fought!¡± her dream father hissed at her. ¡°You should¡¯ve fought for your legacy. Your weakness will be the reason for Noumin¡¯s destruction.¡±


    Like dreams often were, there was no sense in whatever happened. Her father shifted from his younger self to his later years to how he was shortly before his death, his muscles growing and wasting in front of her, his hair graying and regaining color.


    ¡°It was my foolishness, thinking you would amount to something. A weak mother, and a weak daughter.¡±


    Vayu woke with a start. It was the middle of the night, her forehead was wet, and there was an unfamiliar weight on her stomach. Someone had opened the windows to let the winter air in, and the cold had woken her up. She was too tired, and she hadn¡¯t yet accepted that she was still alive. Half of her fever dreams felt like precursors to death. Her father¡¯s voice had been so real, and there were others too, other dreams that were quickly fading from her memory. She didn¡¯t think she wanted to remember them either.


    Instead of moving or sitting up, she settled for moving her arm to the heaviness on her waist and feeling around to determine what it was. It was someone¡¯s arm, and it wasn¡¯t long until she knew it was Cheran. Because there now was no one else. There was no mother with unconditional love, no father whose love came with a few conditions, no family who did not support her or shelter her in her time of need, and no friends from the monastery.


    There was only the boy who showed her kindness when he didn¡¯t need to, and Vayu rested her arm on top of his and turned to her side. He was asleep on top of her blankets, and it looked like his sleep was just as restless as hers had been. There was a bowl of water next to the bed, along with vials of medicine.


    ¡°Hi,¡± she said, her voice nearly a croak.


    He didn¡¯t wake up, and she ran her hand through his hair. Whenever she saw him, his hair was usually already combed and perfect, each strand kept in place with pomade. Everyone at court dressed like their sense of fashion was a social armor, like the most perfect tailoring or stunning accessories gave them a leg up. It sometimes worked.


    Now though, he looked so innocent. There was a bit of stubble along his jaw, wrinkles in his night shirt, and sometimes in his dreams, his eyes fluttered. Vayu didn¡¯t make any more attempts to wake him up. The moment was perfect, as it was. She didn¡¯t want him to wake up and again become the caring crown prince, always on his best behavior, always so accommodating to the poor abandoned princess.


    Asleep, she could pretend that they were normal. They were just a normal wife and husband, next to one another, unguarded in front of each other. She could pretend that him taking care of her was something more than responsibility, that his fear of her dying was because Cheran didn¡¯t want to lose her, not because it would be a geopolitical nightmare.


    She moved closer to him, ignoring the pain in her stiff body. She leaned her head against his chest and wrapped her arms around him. Vayu suspected she had been ill and asleep for days. It felt like she¡¯d slept enough for a year. She didn¡¯t want to sleep anymore, but she didn¡¯t want to leave Cheran¡¯s side. She closed her eyes, letting herself feel his breath on her hair, slowing down her own breathing to match.


    It took her hours to fall back asleep, even then. There was contentment in being so close to him, but there was also the fear that he would wake up and move away from her. There was the fear that when she woke in the morning, she would wake up to more bad news. She sighed, not looking forward to whatever would come. Cheran¡¯s grip around her waist got a fraction tighter, and she smiled into his chest.


    The morning would come after she was rested. For now, she had more than she ever dreamed of. She was still alive, she was in Cheran¡¯s arms, and when the world came at her, he would be by her side.

 16 - Cheran

    Cheran knew immediately that she was better. Her breathing was even and deep, and some time during the night she had moved to embrace him. Perhaps she had gotten too cold during the night. He should have closed the window before sleeping. She wasn¡¯t awake yet, and he slowly extricated himself from her arms. He didn¡¯t want to, but it would feel like he was taking advantage if he stayed as he was. Most of the time, he had slept in the armchair next to her bed, but he hadn¡¯t realized how used to comforts his body was, until he woke up next to her in the morning.


    That morning had not been so pleasant. While she did heal, day by day, other than her shallow breaths she was nearly a corpse. Her skin burned up, and she writhed in her sleep from time to time, but for most of the day she slept without a single movement. Sometimes he had checked her under nose to confirm that she was still breathing. He had gotten very lucky, and he knew it. If they had called for a less skilled physician, if they hadn¡¯t gotten back to the castle in time, if she had been a bit weaker, she would have died. Cheran paused for a moment, sitting on the bed and letting himself look over her before getting up and walking to the door.


    He motioned for one of the guards to call for the physician, and returned to the armchair next to her bed.


    ¡°Vayu,¡± he called. She opened her eyes and sat up. She looked around the room, noticing the differences from how her room usually was. In the days since she had been poisoned, it had been transformed into an infirmary. Two people had donated their blood to her while she recovered. Her maids had come in every morning with fresh flowers and communion from the temple. They prayed to her gods as well, earnestly. During her months in Daivia, she had gained loyalty from those who served her. A few of the young ladies in court sent kind letters wishing her speedy recovery.


    Most of the court thought she had fallen ill, and Cheran had been able to keep it that way. They had gone into Daivia taking all the precautions he¡¯d taken for decades. Whoever had poisoned her had been able to do so without difficulty, in the very first time they had stepped out of the castle. Their defenses were not strong enough, and no amount of searching had revealed who were behind the attacks. Everyone at the tea shop appeared innocent. The waitress that had shown an interest in him had disappeared. There was no trace of her anywhere, and none of the other employees recalled her.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± she said. She pulled the blanket closer around herself and looked at the open window. Cheran hastened to close it. ¡°How long was I¡­?¡±


    ¡°Six days,¡± he said. She nodded.


    ¡°We still don¡¯t know who is behind this,¡± Cheran continued. ¡°The emperor has sent a small army of men out into the city to search, but so far it has yielded nothing.¡±


    At first, he saw his father exhilarated at the challenge of finding such skillful criminals. But as the days passed and his search yielded nothing, he saw the emperor grow angry and frustrated. A challenge was only entertaining when it had a solution. Emperor Avyan had expanded the empire using his intelligence, and it was not a good sign that someone was outsmarting him.


    ¡°Could you call my maids?¡± Vayu asked. ¡°I think I need a bath.¡±


    She tried to get out of the bed, but stumbled as she stood. Cheran helped her into one of the sofas in her room, before taking a seat opposite her.


    ¡°Sit, for now,¡± he said. ¡°Your maids will be here on their way already. I¡¯ll call for some breakfast to be brought in.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said. For reasons he couldn¡¯t understand, she was more withdrawn now. She sat lightly at the end of the sofa, leaning onto the armrest.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    ¡°How are you feeling?¡± Cheran asked.


    ¡°I feel fine,¡± she said, and it was a lie. The physician walked in, accompanied by one of Vayu¡¯s maids. The maid grabbed a heavy robe from the wardrobe and laid it across Vayu¡¯s shoulders. Her night dress was modest, but the maids cared more about propriety than their mistress. Cheran was glad for it, since Obal and a few other guards soon came into the room. It had become a daily habit to meet in the morning and discuss possible leads into the poisoning. Usually Vayu was in bed, under layers of blankets, in the far corner of the room.


    He didn¡¯t want her to hear their conversations about her near death, and so he motioned for the soldiers to follow him. It would be better to conduct the meetings in his study. The emperor was conducting his own investigations, and in any other case Cheran would have been satisfied with waiting and letting his father work. That was only in other cases.


    ¡°It is good to see you, your highness,¡± Obal said.


    Vayu waved away his greeting, and Cheran smiled at the way even when she was weak, she gave Obal a dirty look.


    ¡°Is it, really?¡± she asked as they left the room. She was so sweet to him, and sometimes Cheran envied her frankness with Obal. He sometimes wondered if her amiability was because she didn¡¯t feel comfortable showing him anything else. She tried to make her happy, but sometimes he wondered if the happiness he saw was just to satisfy him.


    ¡°We¡¯ve spoken to every dealer of herbs, medicines, and back-alley poison peddler in the city. None of them are admitting to being involved in this,¡± Obal said.


    ¡°I would deny involvement too, considering the punishment is a straight road to the gallows,¡± Cheran said.


    ¡°I believe them. No one in this city would be foolish enough to have any part in killing the crown princess, and also, none of them use the kind of poison we found in the tea,¡± Obal said. ¡°The physician was able to cure her, but it took him this long to find out what the poison actually was.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Poison from a deep sea fish,¡± Obal said. ¡°Sometimes the coastal villages see these kind of poisonings. The deep sea fish rise to the surface, get caught in nets, and get sold. The poor don¡¯t differentiate between bass and trout. A fish is a fish, even if it looks a bit ugly. They¡¯re more careful now, for the most part, but no one expects meat to be poison.¡±


    ¡°We were assuming that it was always a foreign nation,¡± Cheran thought aloud. ¡°The queen died, then the general fell ill under suspicious circumstances, and then Vayu. What if it is someone from Noumin doing this? Someone was not happy with the way the alliance was formed, and they were so dissatisfied with the current rulers they decided to seize power for themselves. They started removing anyone who stood in their way.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s possible.¡±


    The emperor walked in. ¡°It¡¯s a good theory, Cheran. It means that we have to move quickly, before they do.¡±


    ¡°Move to do what?¡±


    If it was a struggle for Noumin, it would be simple enough. He could have Vayu formally abdicate all rights to her title. The message would be sent, her younger brother¡¯s rule would be solidified, and Vayu would be safe from further attacks.


    ¡°We¡¯ll mount the first attack in a few weeks,¡± the emperor said.


    ¡°The first attack?¡± Cheran asked.


    ¡°My sources at the Nouminese court tell me that whispers are starting again, of how the princess was so much wiser and better suited for the throne as a child than the current child king,¡± the emperor said. ¡°Everyone is eager to unseat him, but most of his cousins have spent their youth debauching themselves. While they have some supporters, most people do not see them as royal or capable of ruling the country effectively. We¡­ we will offer them an alternative.¡±


    Cheran¡¯s stomach sank. It had always seemed too magnanimous of his father and too simple of a solution. He was always so concerned about Vayu¡¯s wellbeing and happiness, and Cheran had foolishly assumed it was because Vayu was now family. The war had never ended. His father had only orchestrated an truce until he equipped himself with a better weapon.


    ¡°I can imagine it will not be a bad compromise. They will have the queen so many of them dreamed of, and with minimal bloodshed,¡± the emperor said.


    ¡°Father, this is not¡ª¡±


    The emperor held up a hand, silencing him.


    ¡°I know you will say this is not right, that this is not good,¡± the emperor said. ¡°But imagine the outcome if we do not intervene. How long do you think that child king will survive among wolves? When Noumin is under our control, we can protect him. If we distance ourselves from the nation, your wife will lose her brother. The nation itself will fall, and we gain nothing but the empty satisfaction that we were not greedy.¡±

 17 - Dhravan

    Dhravan rose finally. So much had happened since the evening he encountered the woman. She was dead, but she had done damage before he managed to kill her. The song had started, and he felt the urge to stop breathing. He felt the urge to walk off his balcony. It hadn¡¯t been easy to break the spell.


    Pain was a distraction. Pain tuned out all other senses, and he had a knife wound to prove that it worked. It wasn¡¯t the first time had been stabbed, but it was the first time in over a decade, and it was the first wound he had inflicted on himself. Pain was the reason he was still alive. Dhravan thought the palace at least was safe from attack. He had spent years making it so, for Raval and Eshal.


    He was grateful to the woman who tried to murder him. She had at least chosen to go after him instead of Eshal. He¡¯d placed guards at every corners. He¡¯d noticed that the housemaids tended to sing as they worked, and he had banned music from his wing of the palace. It would be a long while before music caused anything but fear.


    Eshal slept in his quarters now. The child was recovering from Raval¡¯s death, but he had started attending to some of his duties as king. It was a valiant effort, but no one found the child sitting on the throne with his toy to be an inspiring sight. It did not instill confidence in the nation. Instead, his presence only brought to focus the difference between him and the adults around him.


    But Dhravan could not afford to focus on protecting Eshal from branches of the family who wanted to rise to power. He had to think bigger, on how to protect his grandson along with the whole of Noumin from a far more terrible, unbelievable enemy. The woman¡¯s body was in the dungeons, being tested by the royal physicians and scholars. He already knew what she was, but he needed confirmation that he was not going mad. She was a creature from his childhood stories, the kind of beast that his mother told him about to scare him into obedience. When sailors went missing from the coast, she was one of the beasts that was blamed.


    He should have kept her alive. If he had been better and younger, it would not have been such a close fight. He could have cut off her tongue and found out more about her and her kind. If she was real, then it was possible that everything else was as well. Some people believed in gods and magic, but he never had. He prayed to the gods because there was no harm in it, but he always thought the world was too ugly for magic to exist in it. He had never realized that magic could be just as ugly.


    At his desk, he had a pile of scrolls ready to be read. The outside world and most of Noumin still thought he was ill and on the verge of death. He preferred it that way. Their defenses were down, and the rats were coming out of the sewers. He now knew who was loyal and who were just good at acting. Soon, once his plans were in place, he would clean through the ranks.


    There was no news from Daivia, other than the formal wishes for his recovery. The emperor was keeping his plans close to his chest, and Dhravan was mildly concerned. Noumin could fend off attacks from the inside and from surrounding smaller nations, but Daivia was another thing. There was no reason for Vayu to show them any loyalty. He couldn¡¯t expect a girl exiled and then traded to another kingdom to have any degree of fondness for her so-called family, or show mercy to a child who had usurped her position.


    For the moment though, there was silence, and that was not the worst news. Perhaps they were content with their end of the deal. They had access to Noumin¡¯s ports, which was what they wanted in the first place. Vayu was a pretty girl, and she would make a good queen. The little that he knew of Vayu, she was not a vengeful girl. Then again, vengeance was a luxury many couldn¡¯t afford. As a novice she held no power, but as crown princess of a massive empire she could find more than a thousand ways to trouble them if she only wished it.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Dhravan browsed through the scrolls from his spies to take his mind off of the possible plots against him. There was nothing gained by needless worry. Until he knew more, there was nothing he could do. His time was better served solving more immediate problems, like the one waiting for him beneath the palace.


    Slowly, Dhravan made his way to the dungeons. He never liked going into the dungeons, and the smell of rotting flesh only worsened the experience. The previous occupants of the dungeons had been sent to the city jail instead, and the floor now only had one occupant. Golden light emanated from the cell furthest away from the stairs, and Dhravan walked towards it. The cell¡¯s sole window, a small triangle a few feet above his head, offered little light. To compensate, there were candles and lanterns lining every inch of the room. He had invited scholars from the university to come and examine her body, and those curious and brave enough had taken up residence in the palace.


    The scholars wore cloth masks doused in scented oils as they stood over the body. The woman was just a collection of parts now, sliced open for their understanding. They were examining the structure of her throat, picking apart the fibers of muscle that was falling apart there. Dhravan was uninterested in that part of her anatomy. Instead, he made his way to the lower half of her body. Seconds after her death, her legs had morphed into a fish¡¯s tail. They had stayed that way since, and there was no sign of her ever possessing anything other than the scales and tail.


    ¡°What do we know?¡± Dhravan asked. It was a question he asked each day, and the scholars were finally giving him some answers.


    ¡°We¡¯ve found one thing, my lord,¡± one of the scholars said. In front of him, there was a thin sliver of flesh on a glass plate. Dhravan tried not to dwell on whether the flesh looked more human or fish. The scholar placed a candle against the flesh, and it ignited. It burned brighter than oil, quicker than gunpowder, until there was nothing left but a line of ash.


    ¡°So they will burn,¡± Dhravan said. It made sense that creatures of the water would be weak against fire.


    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± the scholar said. He was a younger man, and he looked towards the elder men in the room for assurance. When he got it, he continued. ¡°As they are weak against fire, similarly they are stronger in water. We kept some parts of the body in water, and it has stayed much the same instead of decomposing. We think they might heal faster or be stronger when they¡¯re in water.¡±


    If only they had stayed in the water, Dhravan thought. If the beasts had stayed in their territory, there would have been no deaths. The woman¡¯s torso was on one of the tables, her arms spread out wide and pinned in place with deep nails. She was beautiful, even in death. It was an uncanny kind of beauty, too symmetrical. There were no scars on her face, no pocks from illness, no freckles from sunshine. Her hair was flat and lifeless, but it was a beautiful shade of dark brown. In death, her face reminded him more of a marble statue than a piece of meat. Even without her voice, she might have been able to enchant her way into creating mischief.


    The stories about them had existed for centuries. Sirens, mer people, dragons, unicorns, trolls, elves, vampires, gnomes, orcs, and so many others. They had stayed away forever, and now one of them had come out, immediately targeting the power structure of his country. Years of experience in war told Dhravan that the siren was just the beginning. She was only a foot soldier, the infantry.


    The scholars had told him what they could, and he did not see the body in front of him yielding much more information. For the decisions he had to make, he needed the help of his soldiers. For eons, all of them thought magic was dead. It was so far removed from their reality by time that they doubted it ever existed. Now, they were back in the world, wreaking havoc. They wanted a war, but Dhravan would not be so obliging. One did not battle beasts, one hunted them.


    ¡°Keep at the work, gentlemen,¡± Dhravan said. ¡°I shall go and try to find you more specimens.¡±

 18 - Vayu

    She hated being ill and weak. She was alive, but sometimes in the mornings she felt she might have been better off dead. Her limbs were lead, her head was foggy, and the only thing driving her forward was the fact that each day was marginally better than the last. It didn¡¯t help that everyone around her was treating her like she was made out of glass.


    Vayu had been ill before. It was never this bad, but she¡¯d had bad fevers and suffered through it. She had survived waves of sickness that had swept through the monastery and taken more than a few lives. She was young, she was otherwise healthy, and she knew that her weakness was only temporary. They did not need to cut her vegetables for her or feed her. She appreciated their help, but it was quickly becoming stifling.


    ¡°I am not going to sit in a wheelchair!¡± she argued. She wanted to go outside. She could take only so much of getting fresh air only through the windows. She wanted to walk through the gardens again. Her maids wanted her to either rest, or let them push her through the paths. Soon, all the grass would covered with snow. It was fall¡¯s last flush, the leaves hues of red and gold, and she wanted to see it up close. She wanted to hear the crunch of dead leaves beneath her feet.


    ¡°I come with gifts,¡± Cheran said.


    He came with gifts often, and Vayu thanked him for it. Along with the gifts, he brought more vials of bitter medicine. She was sure she no longer needed the medicine, but he insisted she still consume it. The gifts were usually sweets or baked goods, and today¡¯s was an apple tart, still warm from the oven.


    She drank the medicine quickly, and took her time with the tart.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said. The sugar and apple removed some of the bitterness of the medicine from her throat.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t the only gift,¡± Cheran said. ¡°I have a surprise planned for you.¡±


    They walked out to the main entrance of the manor, where a small carriage awaited them.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to ride outside the city,¡± Cheran said.


    Vayu looked at him. Their last venture outside the castle walls hadn¡¯t ended so well.


    ¡°All our food and drinks are already in the carriage. Obal has personally supervised everything. We will not step out of that wonderful box with velvet cushioned seats,¡± Cheran said, opening the door to the carriage for her.


    Again she questioned why he was being so kind. Perhaps it was only his guilt. He was the one who had suggested the go out to the city, the one who had chosen the tea shop, and he was the one who had survived because she stopped him from drinking the tea. Vayu knew a few things about survivor¡¯s guilt.


    ¡°It sounds wonderful,¡± she said. She walked towards the carriage, holding onto the door for support as she stepped in. She appreciated that he didn¡¯t try to help her as the others did. If she fell, she would accept help, but coddling her would not help her gain her strength any faster.


    They rode through the city to get to the city gates, and it was mid-morning by the time they left the city behind. They made their way through the small towns that surrounded Yerna, and finally reached the rolling hills of the countryside. She hadn¡¯t paid attention to anything on the journey to the capital city. The countryside was beautiful, and the carriage driver took them onto a side road at around noon. She wanted to talk to Cheran. She had been starved of conversation for too long. Cheran met her in the mornings before leaving to help his father, and her maids only insisted that she rest. They would have her on a routine of only sleeping and eating if they could help it.


    They passed through a pair of wrought-iron gates, and onto a humble estate. The entirety of the land was surrounded by stone walls. There was a small lake, a modest garden with vegetables and fruit trees, and a charming cottage instead of a grand manor. The carriage came to a halt in front of the cottage.


    ¡°I thought we were only going for a ride,¡± Vayu said.


    ¡°This is the last surprise,¡± Cheran said. ¡°It¡¯s one of my estates. Close enough to the city, but far enough to escape the noise. It¡¯s also a very safe place. So small that there is nowhere to hide.¡±Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°It¡¯s just us and the carriage driver,¡± Vayu said.


    ¡°Just us, and Obal,¡± Cheran said, smiling at her in apology. ¡°He¡¯ll just take a walk around the perimeter while we enjoy our lunch.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± Vayu said. She knew the soldier was a good man, if a bit a loose lipped. And he was Cheran¡¯s friend, so she would have to become accustomed to him. Cheran stepped out and towards the rear boot of the carriage. Vayu took her time. Her legs were stiff from sitting, and she massaged them to restore the circulation. By the time she was out of the carriage, Cheran had spread out the picnic blanket among the fruit trees and was setting up their lunch.


    ¡°I¡¯ll help,¡± she said. She could tell he was unused to serving food. She sat down cross-legged on the blanket and started laying out the food. It was simple fare, sandwiches and a carafe of juice along with a bottle of wine. Her meals had gotten simpler during her recovery, and she appreciated the change. Cheran looked like only himself again, instead of royal and unreachable.


    ¡°I want to let you know,¡± she said. ¡°You don¡¯t have to be so kind to me. You don¡¯t have to spend so much time with me. I know you respect this marriage, but you¡¯re honoring it as if you chose me.¡±


    ¡°We spoke of this before,¡± Cheran said. For the first time, he sounded angry. ¡°I don¡¯t have anyone else. If you do, I won¡¯t stop you.¡±


    Vayu sighed. ¡°That is not what I mean to say. I feel like since I¡¯ve come to this country, all I have done is take. I take your kindness, your time, your care. I take all your gifts, your concern. I have earned none of it, and it makes me feel¡­¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to feel anything,¡± Cheran said.


    ¡°I feel burdened,¡± Vayu said. ¡°I spent a decade of my life working for everything I had. The monastery gave me shelter, but I woke at dawn to work the gardens, I taught children, I helped visiting devotees. I cleaned, I cooked. I earned my keep. Now, I sit here in the castle like a piece of decoration while everyone else fawns over me. Including you.¡±


    She had held out so long, held onto their amiable friendliness and their pleasant time together. It felt like a lie, and it felt like it was always coming to an end. She knew he was getting angrier, and that if she was smart she would try to unsay everything coming out of her mouth. But she was tired of saying yes to everything he gave her and just smiling.


    ¡°Especially you,¡± she continued. ¡°You give me so much, and I do not want such a degree of sympathy from you. I¡¯ve incurred a debt I cannot pay back in this lifetime.¡±


    ¡°A debt?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m aware that it is more of a charity,¡± Vayu said.


    ¡°You think that is what this all is?¡± Cheran asked, pointing at the manor around them. ¡°You think I come to see you every day because I pity you?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a very kind man,¡± Vayu said. ¡°You will make a great emperor. I just want you to be happy as well. Don¡¯t hold back your happiness because you feel a responsibility for me.¡±


    ¡°Dear gods, is that what you think I¡¯m doing?¡±


    A roar sounded from the perimeter of the wall, and there was a distant yell.


    ¡°Obal,¡± Cheran mumbled. He stood up and raced to the carriage. From under the seats, he brought out two swords and threw one to Vayu.


    ¡°I know you¡¯re not trained, but it¡¯s better than being unarmed!¡±


    Vayu was untrained, but she knew how to use a knife. She went into the carriage again and found a few daggers. She took a few moments to gather her breath before slowly following Cheran. She would be useless if she got winded, and she would be dead if she was attacked too far away for Cheran to reach her.


    In the distance, she saw Obal hunched over the ground, and Cheran slowing as he reached the soldier. She saw Cheran relax and sheathe his sword before looking back at her. He motioned for her to come to him, and when she did, she saw what Obal was hunched over.


    ¡°Someone threw this bloody thing at me,¡± Obal said, grabbing his shoulder. There was a large stone on the ground, oval and smooth like a pebble on a river bed. The only difference was that the stone was the size of her head. She picked up the stone and shifted it from hand to hand.


    It only looked like a stone, but it was lighter than she expected. When she changed it from one hand to another, she felt something moving around inside. For a second, she had a ridiculous thought.


    ¡°It feels like an egg,¡± she said. Only an egg would never survive a collision with Obal¡¯s shoulder. She¡¯d never seen such a large egg either.


    ¡°Where did it come from?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Someone lobbed it over the wall, probably,¡± Obal said. ¡°Maybe the local children playing a prank.¡±


    She didn¡¯t think so, but she nodded along. ¡°I think I¡¯m going to keep it.¡±


    Rich women collected odd things all the time. She the ladies at court talk about their new exotic birds, rare gems, and well bred horses. Her particular thing would be odd egg-shaped rocks.


    ¡°You want to keep the rock?¡± Cheran asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she said. She hugged the rock to her chest and slowly starting making her way back to the carriage. For a few moments she thought their brief respite from the castle¡¯s tension was too good to be true. That they were again under attack. The rock was strange, but it was probably as OBal said, some village children having fun.


    After carrying it half way, she found it was too heavy for her to continue. She stood for a moment, gathering her breath again. Cheran took over for her. He carried the rock one-handed, and when they were at their picnic blanket he placed it at the edge of the blanket like a paperweight.


    ¡°Do you really want to bring this back home with you?¡± he asked.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be something for me to remember this day,¡± Vayu said, gently pulling the rock to her side. ¡°A souvenir.¡±

 19 - Cheran

    It was like the conversation they had before had not happened. She was happy with her pet rock, and he was left reliving and analyzing all of the time they had spent together in the previous months. She thought he pitied her, and everything he did for her was out of pity. No wonder she never showed him any side of herself that was not amiable or pleasant. She treated him like a kindly benefactor. Did she even consider him truly her friend?


    He wanted to tell her that he did not pity her, but he¡¯d done that already and she had refused to believe him. Her misconceptions weren¡¯t unreasonable. If it were someone else, he would pity their life. He did have sympathy for everything Vayu went through. But when he saw her, pity was not what went through his mind. If he pitied her, he would have sent her away months before, to some place where she would not face the pressure of royal life or have the burden of being crown princess. After Queen Raval¡¯s death and Lord Dhravan¡¯s illness, there was no need to pretend that Vayu was guaranteed the position of crown princess.


    Her life would have been much easier if he relegated her to a concubine and married one of the local highborn women. She could have picked one of the estates and spent her time studying and praying. Instead, he kept her close out of his own selfishness. Then, after he found out his father¡¯s plans he¡¯d brought her even closer to himself to protect her from the truth. The emperor had made no further mention of his plans to take over Noumin, but Cheran knew it would happen sooner or later.


    ¡°There¡¯s something I have to tell you,¡± Cheran said. He paused. ¡°Two things, actually.¡±


    ¡°Two things?¡± Vayu asked.


    He would go with the easier truth first. He didn¡¯t know which truth would surprise her more.


    ¡°I don¡¯t pity you,¡± he said. ¡°I wish you did not have to go through so many losses as a child. I¡¯m sad that life was difficult for you¡ª¡±


    ¡°This does all seem to be pity,¡± Vayu interrupted.


    ¡°No, no. I want to make up for every moment of your sadness. I want to replace all the bad memories with good ones until our life feels like paradise. I want to see you happy and by my side, and I will do anything I can to make that happen. That¡¯s not pity. It¡¯s not kindness.¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Vayu waited for him to continue, this time not interrupting.


    ¡°I really like you,¡± he said. ¡°I like you very much, Vayu. I do not have anyone else I would rather be married to. However, if you do not wish this, I¡¯ll do all that I can to give you your freedom, although I can¡¯t assure you that I will succeed.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    He turned to face her.


    ¡°That is the second thing I have to tell you,¡± he said. ¡°I found out recently about some of my father¡¯s plans for the future. They involve you.¡±


    Vayu furrowed her eyebrows.


    ¡°My father plans to conquer Noumin,¡± Cheran said. ¡°He plans to do it while using you as a figurehead. It won¡¯t be Daivia conquering Noumin, but the rightful heir to the throne reclaiming what is hers. Noumin will become a province of Daivia, and he thinks that your presence will gain us some allies among both the nobility and commoners of Noumin.¡±


    Vayu nodded, and he saw that she understood his father¡¯s plan. From her expression, it was a good plan.


    ¡°The emperor¡¯s plan might work,¡± she said. ¡°Noumin was struggling before the war ended. If Daivia had kept fighting, we would have lost in a matter of weeks.¡±


    ¡°My father wouldn¡¯t be happy to hear that,¡± Cheran said. Again, she was ignoring everything about his feelings and focusing on something else. And he couldn¡¯t bring her attention back to their relationship when she was instead talking about a very real impending war.


    ¡°Lord Dhravan might have made it a very difficult fight,¡± Vayu said. ¡°I¡¯m only speaking as a commoner who lived at the very edge of our borders, far away from most of society.¡±


    She was lying. She was never truly a commoner, and Cheran saw that she wasn¡¯t mortified about the emperor¡¯s plan to take over Noumin. Instead, she seemed to agree with it.


    ¡°Do you want to conquer Noumin?¡± Cheran asked. It wasn¡¯t like the Vayu he knew to support a war. The war itself would not be something completely honorable either. It was a war born out of cunning and subterfuge, of hidden plans. She might be seen forever as a traitor who attacked her own country.


    A novice or priestess could melt away into obscurity, but as the crown princess of Daivia, her name would forever be tarnished. There would be glory, for sure, but there would be whispers too of her using her personal grievances to wage war against the entire country.


    ¡°I want the people to be happy,¡± she said. ¡°There will be some difficulties, but I think they will be better off under your father¡¯s rule in the long term.¡±


    ¡°You want the war?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Gladly,¡± she said, placing the rock onto her lap. She seemed even happier to have the souvenir now. ¡°I cannot wait for it.¡±

 20 - Vayu

    She sounded bloodthirsty. She finally remembered Eshal.


    ¡°What about King Eshal?¡± she asked.


    ¡°My father is planning to make him a lord, give him a province. He says the king will not be harmed,¡± Cheran said.


    She was glad. It would have made more sense for the emperor to plan on killing Eshal. Vayu herself was proof of why threats to the throne shouldn¡¯t be kept alive. The whole of Noumin had all probably given up hope long ago of having her as queen. Raval had broken her will to rebel completely as a child. She had not entertained even thoughts of fighting back while she was a novice. She had always taken a step back when she was attacked, always protecting herself and the people around her.


    That was the way people lost everything. As an adolescent she had tried for a few days at court to counter Raval¡¯s influence. People had slipped through her fingers like sand. Some of them had switched sides, and some had been exiled or silenced. A few, she did not know what came of them. It had taken her ten years, studying history and the present, to understand that the best defense was an offense, and that too one taken early.


    ¡°I¡¯m thankful for that,¡± she said.


    ¡°Are you serious about wanting this war?¡± Cheran asked. Vayu understood his confusion. Priests and priestess preached peace, taught patience, and lived by the philosophy of pacifism. They had the luxury of doing so. Most rulers did not burn down monasteries or hurt men and women of god. There was always some fear of divine retribution, and monasteries and temples passed through war like mountains weathered storms. They did not understand the plight of everyone that lived outside their cocoon.


    ¡°Do you know what Noumin¡¯s biggest industry is?¡± Vayu asked.


    Cheran balked at the sudden question. ¡°I believe it was fishing.¡±


    ¡°We are a peninsular country, and our biggest industry is fishing. We could have been a center of trade, we could have established ports for travel, we could have been the ones bringing in goods from other continents to most of Fessia. Instead, our people are stuck¡­ fishing. If they are bolder, they dive for pearls. Noumin¡¯s people are a victim of poor governance. Our infrastructure is non-existent, our treasury laughable, and our rulers uneducated. We can change all that if we come to power.¡±


    It sounded so selfish, so uncharacteristic of her. She was speaking of Noumin¡¯s economy and helping people, but she wanted to rule Noumin as well. For the first thirteen years of her life, she had thought she would rule Noumin one day. She¡¯d written up grand, unrealistic plans as a child of making changes to the nation. She wanted her birthright. Once they won the war, Noumin would be only a province. But it would be a province with the backing of the empire.


    Cheran looked afraid of her. Of course he did. He had seen a girl that was tossed from place to place like a sack of rice. Now she was talking about commerce, trade, and governance. It was easy for people to forget that she had spent over half her life being prepared to rule a nation. Most times, she forgot it too. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.


    That part of their conversation seemed too big to speak about for the moment. That part, they could come to once they were back home. He said he really liked her, but she wondered if that would change now. She was hungry for power, in a way. Perhaps it was because she spent so much time being powerless. It was not a pretty thing though, to want power so openly. It was fine for emperors and crown princes, but not for people like her. People were wary of women who wanted power.


    ¡°We should speak to your father,¡± Vayu said. ¡°I want to offer him whatever support I can.¡±


    Something cracked by her side. It cut through the stillness of the late afternoon, and she looked down. The rock had a jagged line down its length.


    ¡°Did I drop it?¡± she asked.


    She wouldn¡¯t be surprised if she had. She was excited at the revelation. She was excited that she was so integral to the emperor¡¯s plans. For months, she wondered if she would be tossed aside once proper trade routes were established to the Nouminese ports, from Daivia¡¯s borders. The castle and the luxuries it held did not hold much allure for her. If anything, sometimes the extent of the comfort bothered her.


    She didn¡¯t want to leave Cheran behind. He seemed too kind for the kind of role he was born to play. One did not maintain empires by being kind. They lived in a world where if you offered someone a hand to help, they¡¯d use that gesture to pull you down. She was a cynic, it was true. But she was more often right about peoples¡¯ motivations than she was wrong. People were selfish creatures, whether it was for them or for the people they loved. She was no exception. Cheran might find someone who could make him genuinely happy, someone who did not pray so often and was better at holding a conversation. But she was selfish, and she wanted no one else by his side.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    They both spoke of letting each other go to other people, but she was no longer sure that she could. If he ever told her of another woman, there was a chance she would send assassins after the woman. She really liked him, more than was healthy, more than was rational after just a few months of knowing one another.


    The crack extended further down the rock¡¯s surface, and then it started to split apart. Instead of two solid chunks of stone, the rock split apart to reveal a hollow inside. It was exactly like an egg, but empty.


    ¡°What a strange rock,¡± she said. Now it felt pointless, taking it back home. The leftover pieces of rock were fragile and fragmented into smaller pieces in her hand. Although, she didn¡¯t think she would have trouble remembering this day. They rode back to the castle in silence. She was planning to meet the emperor soon, and help him in whatever way she could.


    They were at the castle walls when she felt the first of the pain. At first she thought it was only the effects of over exerting herself. She¡¯d traveled for hours, walked around more than she usually did, and found out two life-altering things. If she went to her room and slept, she would feel better after a few hours. Perhaps she would take another vial of that medicine Cheran kept bringing to her.


    The second pang of pain, she felt from her fingertips to her skull, and she bent over. It was unbearable, a hundred times worse than the poison. She tried to breathe through it. Cheran was holding onto her shoulders, and mumbling something to her. It might have been words of comfort, questions about how bad it was. She heard nothing.


    She looked down at her hands, balled into fists. Against all her body¡¯s internal screaming, she stretched out her hands. Her fingers were ink black up to her knuckles. Cheran reached for her hands, and she flinched away. If there was a chance it was contagious, she didn¡¯t want to spread it to him.


    ¡°Stay. Away.¡±


    She had beat death once. It was true that she was weak and she had no idea what happened to her, but she would beat it again. She didn¡¯t want to die, not when there was so much to look forward to, so much to fight for. They raced towards the castle again, and the same physician was brought to her chambers.


    This time he did not have a cure or even an answer. The darkness slowly moved up her arms, something dark filling her veins and spreading out to the surrounding skin. Over time, she grew used to the pain. It didn¡¯t hurt so much, and she sat up in her bed. The fluid in her veins was still moving upwards, but it no longer felt so foreign. It was dark and warm, and after the pain ebbed the warmth was almost soothing.


    She hated the unknown. It felt like she was getting better, but perhaps it was only that her body had given up trying to defend itself from the attack. Maybe this new poison was giving her mercy of a peaceful death. Cheran was still by her side, growing increasingly worried.


    ¡°I¡¯m starting to feel better,¡± she said. She didn¡¯t want to hope too much for herself, but Cheran at least deserved hope.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t anything in our food or drink,¡± Cheran said. He dropped his head into his hands.


    ¡°Oh, it was the strange rock, certainly,¡± Vayu said. She started to giggle. ¡°How were we so stupid? Someone threw a rock at us and I just decided to keep it by my side until it broke apart. Who knows what the rock was covered in, what it contained. Why didn¡¯t I just try to embrace an incoming cannon?¡±


    The fact that she could breathe, the fact that she could move¡­ it was giving her a false sense of security. It was letting her for a moment forget that she might be dead by the morning.


    ¡°We were so stupid,¡± she said, smiling at the baffled expression on Cheran¡¯s face.


    ¡°How are you laughing right now?¡±


    She was laughing because once again, she had been blindsided by life. She always paid dearly for brief moments of happiness, and somehow was always surprised by the misfortunes that hit her just when she thought she could be happy.


    ¡°I¡¯m not surprised by this,¡± she admitted. ¡°I find out that you truly like me, I find out that I can change Nouminese peoples¡¯ lives for the better, and minutes later I¡¯m at risk of dying. Isn¡¯t it funny how quickly life gives and then takes it all away?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to die,¡± Cheran said.


    She shrugged her shoulders. Looking down, the dark liquid had reached her collarbones. However, it was lighter now, more like streaks from watercolor paints than something solid.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I am,¡± she agreed. Now that the pain was gone, she actually felt better than she did in the morning. She felt better than she had in days.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have Obal and the others examine the pieces of rock from the estate,¡± Cheran said. ¡°Perhaps one of the university scholars can glean something from it.¡±


    She had a feeling that they would find nothing once they went back to the estate. This time, the attack did not feel like an attempt to kill her. It did not even feel like an attack. It was like a harsh collision of two entities. Whatever was within her blood now felt like it was making room for itself within the crevices of her body, becoming one with her while trying not to cause harm.


    Again, she smiled. It was just her wishful thinking. It was probably only a poison that was not so potent. Perhaps it was something she was immune to. It was well into the evening, with the physician plying her with concoctions meant to bolster her strength and remove toxins from her body.


    ¡°I think I want to sleep,¡± she said, stifling a yawn. ¡°I have a feeling I¡¯ll be better in the morning.¡±


    She had no such feelings, but she was tired and she wanted to sleep. They could fuss over her just as much while she slept.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a good idea,¡± Cheran said.


    ¡°Regardless, I¡¯m tired. I can¡¯t hold out for much longer. You can try to wake me up if it feels like I¡¯m going into something beyond sleep.¡±


    ¡°And if I can¡¯t?¡± he asked.


    Vayu hesitated. ¡°Then you can try everything else as well. Resurrect me, if you find a way to. Until then, I really like you too. I don¡¯t have anyone else I¡¯d rather spend the rest of my life with, even if the rest of my life is just tonight.¡±

 21 - Cheran

    Vayu woke up in the morning. She woke up late, but she woke up. He had spent the night lying next to her, his hand on her waist to feel the rise and fall of her breathing. After confessing that she was fond of him just as he was, she¡¯d fallen asleep in the few seconds it had taken for him to process what she said. He hadn¡¯t been able to sleep even for a second, and he had been looking at her when she woke up, with a slight groan and wiping the sleep out of her eyes. When she did, Cheran moved closer to her and embraced her.


    Vayu was warm in his arms, and when she realized his arms were around her she didn¡¯t pull away. Instead, she moved in closer.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± she mumbled, her lips pressed against his collar. ¡°I told you I¡¯d be better in the morning.¡±


    The stain on her fingers was almost gone, and she looked fully recovered. There was a healthy redness to her cheeks that he hadn¡¯t seen in weeks. Cheran called out to the guards at the door, and servants made their way in.


    ¡°Let the emperor know that the crown princess is doing better. Call the physician to come examine her, and maids, for her morning bath.¡±


    ¡°Do I smell?¡± she asked.


    ¡°What? No, I only wanted you to be in more comfortable clothing. You¡¯re in the same day dress from yesterday.¡±


    Some wall between them had collapsed with the new attempt on her life. She was less composed in front of him. Perhaps they both realized that they might not have the time to take smaller steps towards each other. So instead they were sprinting to each other, falling into a comfort and closeness they didn¡¯t feel the need to acknowledge.


    He stepped out of bed and stretched. There was now more work to do. She might still not be out of the woods. It could be some slow-acting poison that would take her life silently and suddenly in a few hours or days. But for now, he had her.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to meet my father, explain the situation, do a few things, and come back quickly,¡± he promised her. He grabbed his jacket off a nearby chair and slipped on his boots. He looked at her maids who had just come in. ¡°Take good care of her, and call me if anything happens.¡±


    Before he could second guess himself or over think it, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and left the room.


    Obal was outside. He was still nursing a bruised shoulder, but he was otherwise normal. Whatever had been targeted at Vayu, it was only meant for her. There were more than a few scholars working on finding out what had happened to her. Samples of her blood were being examined, but were yielding nothing. The substance, whatever it was, had dissipated like it had never existed. Oddly, even Vayu seemed fine.


    She had been in pain, appeared on the verge for a few hours, but all that was gone like it was a dream. She was laughing and smiling like everything was perfect. Excluding the doubt about her continued mortality, everything was perfect. She didn¡¯t hate him for the emperor¡¯s plan. In fact, she was a fan of the plan to take over her home country. She liked him too.


    She was sharing herself with him. He had thought her infinitely patient, forgiving, and kind. He would have loved her even if she was all of those things, but she was not so simple. She had a twisted sense of humor, was calculating, and had big plans like his father did. Cheran paused mid-step on his way to his father¡¯s rooms. She was very much like the emperor. It was only that she had so far been given no power to make decisions, but despite her powerlessness she knew about her country¡¯s economy, had plans on how to fix it. She did not let sentiment hold her back, or fear of her own reputation.


    Cheran chuckled to himself. It was true that people ended up marrying their parents. He had always imagined he would end up with someone like his mother, who had been sweet and amiable every day of her life. Instead, he was with someone who was seizing life¡¯s every opportunity with both hands and digging in with her nails.


    The guards announced his arrival, and he entered his father¡¯s chambers.


    ¡°She¡¯s doing well, for now,¡± he said.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Good,¡± the emperor said. ¡°I hope you can understand that both of you are forbidden from leaving the castle¡¯s premises until further notice.¡±


    ¡°Completely understood,¡± Cheran said. He wasn¡¯t even planning on letting Vayu leave their manor until they knew what had happened, or found who was responsible. Now they had two crimes to solve, and absolutely no leads.


    ¡°I have news that Lord Dhravan is recovering from his illness,¡± Emperor Avyan said. ¡°We might have to move soon. I know the princess might be hesitant to go to war against her home, but if we wait we will only be giving Noumin time to recover. The power structure is unstable now, but it might not be for long.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s in favor of your plan,¡± Cheran told his father.


    The emperor was looking over the massive map of Fessia, drawing a long stick along possible routes they could take to the border for their initial attack. He dropped the stick on hearing Cheran¡¯s words.


    ¡°She knows that it will be better for Noumin to be under different leadership,¡± Cheran said with a smile.


    ¡°Smart girl,¡± the emperor said, picking up the stick and dusting it off.


    ¡°She wants to help however she can,¡± Cheran continued. ¡°I think she knows more about Noumin, as an insider, than we do.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll visit her tomorrow then, and see how she might be able to help.¡±


    Cheran had nearly become engaged to other women before. Some of the daughters of lords in Daivia were equal to princesses of other nations in status and beauty. His father had approved of some of the young women, tolerated some others. Cheran and the young women were in brief, chaste relationships before breaking it off. They were not relationships at all, but courtships so prim and proper there was no scope of possibility for them to find out the other¡¯s true selves. They spoke about the least controversial things, went to whatever plays were popular in the capital, attended parties together. It was always in public, and Cheran hadn¡¯t realized how important mutual solitude was in getting to know a person.


    Vayu was talkative now, but it had taken her weeks to show herself. Before, they¡¯d sat in the library or in their rooms with books as their companions. He noticed the small things about her, her habit of wetting her finger before flipping a page from time to time. He knew that she took off her shoes when she settled down to read and tucked her feet under her legs for warmth. He knew that she liked to sleep on the side of the bed closer to the window, and that she liked to open the window during the night sometimes, even if it was winter, because she ran hot. He knew she had a birthmark at the nape of her neck, and that was something even she might not know.


    They were such small things, such simple things, but so intimate. Maybe that was what love was. It was shared secrets and shared time. Suddenly, he wanted to go back to her. His father was busy planning out more routes they could take for the vanguard to reach the border. A few seasoned soldiers¡ª he guessed they were generals, walked in, and Cheran used their presence as an excuse to leave.


    When he returned to their manor, Vayu was sitting in the parlor. She was bathed and dressed in a sage green day dress. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, falling in damp waves all the way to her waist. The physician was collecting another vial of blood, and she winced as he removed the needle from her arm.


    ¡°You¡¯re back!¡± she said. She smiled wider now. It was not the restrained smiles she used to give him, the kind of smiles women gave when they were afraid their true smiles and true laughter detracted from their beauty.


    ¡°I¡¯m back,¡± he agreed, taking a seat on the sofa next to her. Maids came into the room with towels and started to dry her hair. Vayu leaned against the back of the sofa.


    ¡°I still feel better,¡± she said. She looked better too. She had lost weight after the poisoning, but today it was almost easy to forget how long she¡¯d been bedridden, how difficult it had been for her to even walk short distances just a few days before.


    ¡°My father will be visiting us tomorrow,¡± Cheran said.


    ¡°Regarding the¡ª¡±


    ¡°Regarding your health,¡± Cheran finished. It was true that the castle was the safest place possible, but one couldn¡¯t be too careful when it came to secrets. Somehow someone had found out about their whereabouts twice. He didn¡¯t need that person knowing their future plans of war.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Vayu said, understanding. ¡°We could go to him if he would prefer that. I think I¡¯m up to the task.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you are,¡± Cheran said. ¡°But there¡¯s no need. It¡¯s only a short walk from the main building to here. I believe my father hasn¡¯t seen this manor either, after the renovations.¡±


    His father did not care for renovations. Something was either good enough or it wasn¡¯t, and considering he doled out both prizes and punishments with equal generosity, the work done for the royals tended to exceed expectations more often than not. They had lunch in the parlor, and afterward they made their way to Vayu¡¯s chambers. The servants waited outside.


    Cheran fell onto her bed, and motioned for her to lie down next to him.


    ¡°I¡¯m not very tired or sleepy now,¡± Vayu said.


    He gave her a look. ¡°I am. Just lie down next to me. If you feel tired, or feel like anything is wrong, wake me up.¡±


    She looked like she had a retort, but held her tongue. Instead, she followed his instructions and laid down on her side next to him. He wanted to stay awake for a few moments, to have a few snippets of conversation, but the tiredness caught up with him and he succumbed to sleep, the last thing he felt being fingertips against his hair.

 22 - Vayu

    Vayu woke in the evening, to the setting sun casting long rays of light through the windows. Cheran was still asleep, and she was still alive. She had fallen asleep a few minutes after Cheran, and someone among the servants had lit the fire in the hearth. It was too warm, and she opened the window next to her bed.


    The sky was red like a bruise, and she breathed in the cold winter air. She leaned against the window frame and started untangling her hair with her fingers. They both said they liked each other, because love was a difficult word. It was a promise that she wasn¡¯t sure she wanted to make yet, even though she knew she loved him.


    Since they met, he had seen the ugliest parts of her. He had seen her helplessness, her weakness, her illness, and loved her still. She wondered if there was something he was hiding from her. For months she had only seen someone perfect, except in the moments where he lost all composure worried for her.


    Obal walked into the room.


    ¡°Your highness, we¡¯ve found something.¡±


    He paused, looking at Cheran¡¯s sleeping figure.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t wake him,¡± Vayu said. ¡°Is it urgent?¡±


    Obal paused. ¡°It is regarding your poisoning. We have someone in custody.¡±


    ¡°Unless it is urgent, let him rest for a few more hours.¡±


    Obal started to leave before turning back around. ¡°Could you come see her, then? The woman we have in custody?¡±


    She knew the soldier had grown to accept and grudgingly respect her, and so she followed him out of the room.


    ¡°She does not appear to be from Fessia,¡± Obal told her on their walk to the main castle¡¯s dungeons. ¡°She is refusing to tell us anything, despite our¡­ strict interrogation.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Vayu said. ¡°I¡¯m sure you will persuade her, soon enough. How is your shoulder?¡±


    Obal shook out his shoulder, as if remembering the injury. ¡°I¡¯m doing well enough. And you?¡±


    Vayu pointed down at herself. ¡°Wonderfully.¡±


    It was odd that she felt so healthy. She knew it was odd, an unexplainable. Instead of poison, it was like she had been exposed to some elixir of healing. The initial pain had been like fire flowing through her veins, but after it subsided she felt almost invincible. They made their way to the stables behind the castle.


    ¡°She¡¯s not in the dungeons?¡± Vayu asked.


    ¡°Not yet,¡± Obal answered. ¡°We have a small guardhouse here. It¡¯s further from the castle, exposed to the elements. Sometimes the rats get in. In some ways, it¡¯s worse than being in the dungeon.¡±


    She could imagine the stone walls of the dungeon offered some protection from the winter, which the wooden guardhouse did not.


    ¡°If she dies?¡± she asked.


    ¡°There are guards posted outside to make sure she does not,¡± Obal answered.


    They made their way to the guardhouse, which was only a row of modified stables, with walls on three sides and metal bars in the front. Four guards stood in front of the guardhouse, while another sat at a desk near the edge of the structure. Obal motioned for the one sitting to unlock the sole occupied cell, and they made their way in.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    Vayu had gotten used to the refined smells of a royal life, of scented candles and soap, of handkerchiefs washed in lye that smelled like cleanliness. She had forgotten how terrible humanity could smell, and it was all concentrated within the cell.


    ¡°When did you find her?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Yesterday afternoon, while we were at the estate. At first, she was only arrested due to her trying to come into the castle grounds through one of the servants¡¯ entrances. After I saw her this morning, I recognized her from the tea shop.¡±


    She smelled vomit and piss, an unwashed body and something festering. Either Obal was lying, or the woman had been in a terrible state even before she was captured. She was nearly unrecognizable from the pretty girl who served them tea. One of the guards brought her a small chair from the outside, and Vayu sat, careful to pull her skirts closer around her so they did not touch the floor.


    ¡°You are not dead,¡± the woman said, looking at Vayu. Her hands and legs were bound with shackles, but she lunged forward. ¡°You are to be dead!¡±


    ¡°I did not die,¡± Vayu said. ¡°Did you want me dead so badly?¡±


    ¡°I only want,¡± the woman rasped. ¡°I only want what the lady wants. The lady wants you dead.¡±


    Obal straightened.


    ¡°What lady?¡±


    It could be one of the ladies at court, one of the wealthy ladies Cheran had rejected in favor of her.


    ¡°The lady sang to me,¡± the woman said. ¡°She sang me lullabies. The world will be all song when you are dead.¡±


    The woman did not say ¡®if¡¯. She said ¡®when¡¯, as if Vayu dying was something unavoidable. Her feeling of invincibility faded. She had come close to death.


    ¡°Does she sing well, this lady of yours? Perhaps I could go and hear her too,¡± Vayu suggested. ¡°Perhaps if she wants me dead so badly, she can do it herself instead of making others do her dirty work.¡±


    ¡°Songs are not for sinners,¡± she hissed. ¡°You, with your dirtied blood could never hear the song. You could never understand, and so you must die!¡±


    The woman strained against her bindings, and Obal walked forward, delivering a solid kick to the center of the woman¡¯s chest. Vayu looked away as the woman coughed and gasped for breath, as she vomited a little bit more before falling to the ground.


    ¡°So it is a woman who hired her,¡± Vayu said. She could take no more of it. She wanted punishments to be quick and merciful, not this. She knew it was a necessary evil. Whoever had tried to kill her, it seemed, would keep trying until they succeeded.


    ¡°Do you have any idea who she could be talking about?¡± she asked. Obal shook his head.


    He looked at the woman, now a heap of flesh on the ground. ¡°She wasn¡¯t speaking much until now. Sometimes, during the night, she started singing. When she talked, it was always about some song. It reminded me of those fanatics who attend the church near the river. They go to daily prayers, donate their entire earnings, promise their firstborn to the church. She sounded mad.¡±


    ¡°She does sound mad,¡± Vayu agreed, her voice light. She stepped closer to the woman. ¡°Could you hold her back?¡±


    She knew of madness. When people lost their sanity, they were either sent to the madhouse, or they were sent to the monastery. The lucky ones were sent to the monastery. For some, the madness was temporary. They covered like peopel did from any other illness, and they went back to their homes. Others, they lived with monsters only they could see, and no medicine could cure their mind.


    Vayu looked into the woman¡¯s eyes. She saw the pinpricks of the woman¡¯s pupils, the way her jaw was clamped shut. The woman was not herself, and had not been for some time.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think she will be able to tell us anything coherent,¡± Vayu said. ¡°Have the physician see to her. He might have medicines for her. I don¡¯t think she did this of her own volition or will, Obal. Her mind appears to be broken. I could be wrong, of course, but have her examined.¡±


    Vayu had thought she could be cruel. After all, rulers were not always kind and merciful. She thought she had the stomach to look at torture and tell them to continue. But now, she only felt bad for the woman wishing her death. She wanted to tell Obal to take her to a warm room, to feed her a hot meal.


    ¡°The physician is already on his way,¡± Obal said. ¡°She has an infection as well. She¡¯s been walking barefoot for a while now.¡±


    Vayu held herself back from looking at the woman¡¯s feet. The woman did not seem like the other people Vayu had seen who had lost their grip on sanity. She was further gone, perhaps so far there was no way back. Others she had seen did have violent urges, did harm other people, but their targets changed. Their delusions were fleeting, their thoughts scattered. The woman in front her was focused on one thing at the expense of all other things. She wanted Vayu¡¯s death even if it meant her own.


    Whoever had driven her to such self-destruction did not care that they destroyed a life. They had let a woman go mad and then let her loose like an animal put out to pasture. Whichever lady was responsible for the young woman¡¯s fate, they would not hesitate to do the same thing to another person. It was only a matter of time, and their enemy already had a few weeks of a head start.

 23 - Benna

    The princess walked back home with the bald soldier. Benna had tried to enchant him, but he already had a vocation. There was no place for a new school of thought in his limited world view. He was a soldier, and his job was to protect the empire and its royals. No matter how much she whispered tunes across the room and aimed her spells at him, nothing landed. The best way to succeed would be to plan, to attack when the princess was most vulnerable.


    She wasn¡¯t vulnerable at the moment. Instead, she was the strongest she had been in weeks. There was something in the way she walked that had changed. It was more than human, and Benna regretted not succeeding in her first attempt. It would have made things so much easier, caused so much more chaos than just the death of the Nouminese queen.


    In the land of setting suns,


    In the land of pearly-heavy waters,


    Where sirens and sailors shared the sea,


    In the land of magic and men,


    That¡¯s where we¡¯re meant to be.


    When there¡¯s a storm,


    The sailors and sirens fight,


    And when there¡¯s clear skies,


    They come to reunite.


    Her song extended further than she thought, and one of the soldiers guarding the failed assassin picked up on the tune. He started to hum it as he walked into the occupied cell. The young woman quieted on hearing the song.


    Benna saw the princess stop. For a second, Benna hoped. Perhaps the princess was susceptible to the song. It would make things so much easier if she was. But the princess had stopped because she heard silence instead of the prisoner¡¯s ravings from the cell. She sent the soldier back towards the guardhouse, and Benna sang faster.


    It was an easy thing to kill when there was no resistance. The soldier¡¯s hands were around the woman¡¯s throat, and with her last high note, he squeezed. Within seconds, he was done. The young woman was finally free of the madness. Benna leaned back against her chair and watched as the princess ran back to the guardhouse. She shouldn¡¯t have been able to run. Even those who survived poisoning from deep sea fish venom spent the rest of their lives weakened and ill.


    Brenna frowned. Something had gone wrong. She had kept eyes on the princess for months before the poisoning, and more eyes in the weeks afterward. A weakened princess was almost as good as a dead one. A princess confined to her sick bed could not be a bastion of hope, could not travel back to Noumin to take over the throne.


    If everything in her plan had worked as intended, the princess would have died in Daivia. It was not such a big loss for the empire, and the crown prince would find some prettier, wealthier girl without issue. They would search for the criminal and then realize it was only a waste of resources. The child king would die last, leaving behind a power vacuum and letting Noumin collapse into a mess of warring factions, with no one having a clear claim to the throne.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Now, all her work looked like she was clearing the way for the princess. The child king was still alive, and even the old man had not died. They had prepared for this for years, and somehow the humans had escaped death. Benna had spent years watching the shores. She saw as the humans gained knowledge and power. She saw their huts become houses and then fortresses. Even in the absence of magic, they had grown formidable.


    She had been so confident that she could topple their empires. After all, she was an enemy they could never have predicted. She had powers they only talked about in their stories. But she had underestimated them. All the time she spent, she thought only humans had lost knowledge over the years, but she hadn¡¯t realized that those who were born of magic had lost it too.


    The first man she sang to willingly dived into the sea for her. The fourth did not. Powers did not affect very person in the same way, and some people were not affected at all. Those who were suggestible did anything for her song. Those who had stronger wills did not even pay heed to it. Some, like the princess and the bald soldier, could not even hear it.


    Benna was watching everything through the eyes of a robin perched on the castle walls. The bird had fallen for her song without the slightest bit of hesitation, handing over its tiny soul as a gift. Now, she flew through the castle, free to watch and listen to all of the goings on. The young crown prince was taken with the girl, although Benna couldn¡¯t see why. There was nothing special in her features or her coloring. There was nothing about her that was alluring or seductive. She was like a girl that had grown but not gone through puberty.


    It was not her business. The princess came out of the guardhouse, the bald soldier holding the other soldier tightly. She should¡¯ve ordered that one to attack the princess as well. It would have been two birds with one stone, but she had been preoccupied with her task of tying up loose threads. The bald soldier held on tight, but Benna had let go of the spell long before. The soldier would recover in time, although she doubted he would ever work in the castle again.


    At least she had the pleasure of knowing the humans were running around confused and clueless, as they should. Her focus was Noumin, not Daivia, but she wasn¡¯t against some incidental mischief among other humans. The Daivian emperor thought himself to be so above the other humans around himself. He was just a man, a tad bit more intelligent than the idiots he surrounded himself with.


    Lovelorn and lost,


    The maid stands at the edge,


    She¡¯s paid the cost.


    The princess turned sharply and looked directly at her, at the little bird Benna was occupying and using. It was impossible. The little bird was a speck of red against the dark sky, and it wasn¡¯t even moving. Benna had started singing, just to keep the soldier asleep, but the princess had heard her song.


    Love is lost and tears fall,


    Drops of fire along her face,


    The maid¡¯s only truth now,


    Is her solitude.


    The princess was listening, but she did not move. Benna paused, seeing if the princess would also succumb to her song, if she would feel the same urge to faint. Seconds passed while Benna sang, and the princess was not affected by the magic of the song. Instead, she turned to the bald soldier. Benna knew what she was saying.


    ¡°Do you hear that?¡± the princess was asking. She pointed at the bird, and the bald soldier squinted in the darkness. Benna pulled back, removing herself from the bird¡¯s body. The bird, she knew, would soar off into the darkness immediately.


    The princess had heard her, and instead of being apathetic or susceptible to the song, had been able to identify its source. Benna had to change her plans.