“I know, and I’m sorry. But I had no choice.” When his brother didn’t reply, he continued in a lower tone. “How have things been with father? Has he left you alone?”
Zaun nodded. “Most days he makes me attend these drills, but otherwise he pays no attention to me at all. It’s been peaceful…if not a little lonely.”
“So he’s never struck you again? Not even once?”
The boy shook his head. “No. I swear.”
Aharon believed him, but was somewhat surprised. Having lived through the same treatment as children, he and Turo hadn’t been old enough to defend themselves at the time, and Turo had since appeared to forgive the physical mistreatments. Aharon had not, and the moment he’d learned their father had started on Zaun, he’d stormed over to their family manor and confronted him.
The altercation left both men mortally wounded, although fortunately—or unfortunately, in his father’s case—the house staff summoned Healers quickly enough to save them. Once mended, Aharon was immediately sent away, although he’d made a point of speaking to his father before he left and had warned him what would happen if he raised a hand to Zaun again.
Apparently, his threats had been taken seriously.
Now sending a glance back over his shoulder, he looked across the expanse of sand and spied the man in question over by the wall, staring his and Zaun’s way. Maintaining eye contact for only a moment, he then pointedly turned his back.
Zaun was watching him, and now sent a worried glance to their father. “Please stay away from him,” he then pleaded, “and don’t get into any more trouble. I don’t want you sent away again.”
Suspecting he could avoid a confrontation for only so long, Aharon nevertheless nodded. “No more trouble,” he promised, while thinking that if Neco succeeded in winning the throne, this was a vow he’d be fully capable of keeping. “Now come,” he then went on, putting a hand to the boy’s shoulder and starting him away “and tell me everything you’ve gotten up to these past two years.”
Chapter 4
Three days later, Aya sat within her darkened apartment, its every window now covered by a thin slab of iron. No further murders had occurred, and everyone’s paranoia had reached an all-time high; they were all just waiting for the next body to drop, and then to adjust their personal strategies accordingly. A horrific situation, it was also a reality Aya had forced herself to not only accept, but embrace. For the sake of her own survival she couldn’t afford to do otherwise, nor had the circumstances left her any other option.
Since Neco was in the most danger, he’d been following Aharon’s suggestion and not left his rooms these past few days. Upon visiting him this morning, Aya thought he was growing a bit stir-crazy, but he’d kept his complaints to a minimum, and most importantly, thus far remained unharmed.
Still, and despite her brother’s isolation and private guard, she and Aharon were fearful someone would find a way past these defenses and make a successful strike. For this reason, Aharon was trying to keep as close to Neco as possible, while further investigating some of the other deaths. Moreover, he didn’t want Aya leaving her chambers without his company either, and for the most part she followed his wishes, only slipping out with her handmaidens on a couple of occasions. Like Aharon, she was also trying to discern the cause of Loh toppling from his terrace, and the identity of who had taken the shot that killed Buru.
Despite all their planning and strategizing, however, the simplest solution to keeping Neco safe was one they couldn’t ignore. If the king was to die, all of this would stop. With their father dead, Neco could ascend the throne, exile his remaining siblings—with the exception of Aya, of course—and begin his reign without fear of further threats. Or at least, none more than what was typical for a ruler of Ceja.
But while seeming like a simple solution, the prospect of slaying his majesty was significantly more daunting than was eliminating their fellow princes and princesses. Neco was willing to take the required action, but because his knights wouldn’t dare harm their king, any attempt he made would have to be enacted personally. This would further necessitate him leaving the safety of his chambers and inviting a threat to his own life, as well as pit him against the king’s formidable security measures. Measures fashioned and reinforced by Othos Shai, Aharon’s father and captain of the royal guard.
All things considered, Neco would probably end up dead if he tried this, either by way of a sibling or by their father’s defenses, a conclusion that unfortunately left Aharon as the only logical alternative. Having not yet agreed to the endeavor, Aya knew he was contemplating it, and trying to determine a pathway to the king.
The very idea terrified her. Presuming Aharon was successful—a weighty presumption, admittedly—he’d still be facing substantial danger due to the fact that he wasn’t a royal sibling and therefore immune to punishment. If he murdered the king and his identity was discovered, he’d be facing execution, and under such circumstances even Neco probably couldn’t save him—for by killing the reigning king, the royal guard would be swift and merciless in hunting him down, and ensuring he met Justice for the act.
In light of this, Aya was trying to dissuade Aharon from pursuing the action, mainly by reinforcing his own cautions. Thankfully, he was neither reckless nor short-sighted, and was considering every option—and its consequences—with painstaking care. However, it was also true that each passing day allowed further opportunity for Neco’s death, and if Aharon did nothing and her brother was killed, she knew he’d never forgive himself. Because of this, she worried he might decide to just take his chances, and risk himself not only for Neco, but for Ceja itself. Furthermore, the more practical part of her mind wasn’t certain she should be trying to discourage him, for their only other option wasn’t much more appealing, and only slightly less dangerous.
Besides herself and Neco, five royal siblings remained. To secure Neco’s safety, every one of them would need to be eliminated. Simply put, this meant either her father had to die, or her siblings. It was a ghastly choice.
Shaking her head now, Aya rose and started into her bedchamber to dress for supper, an action she mostly took out of boredom. Aharon was due to arrive soon and escort her to Neco’s rooms, and as she reached for a fresh dress she found herself hoping that he’d discovered something of interest today, something—anything—that could help narrow their focus. As it was, she felt their recent inaction had only increased the danger, and like it or not, they now needed to go on the offensive before she or Neco was killed.
Discarding her skirt and blouse, she moved to pull the dress over her head, then quickly worked the laces while her thoughts remained on the various problems at hand. Turning toward the mirror, she then caught sight of a figure now standing across the room, watching her reflection, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Princess,” Siris greeted with a smile.
Aya turned and gave him a long stare. Adorned in his typical satin stylings, he didn’t appear to be carrying a weapon, although this didn’t explain how he’d gotten into her private quarters. Molli and Seta were posted just inside the entranceway door, guarding the only path—or so she’d thought—into her rooms.
“I apologize for the intrusion,” the jester now went on, “and more specifically for my timing. It wasn’t my intention to infringe upon your modesty.”
Modesty was the least of Aya’s concerns, and even under different circumstances, it wouldn’t have distressed her to know that he’d apparently just watched her disrobe and redress. Siris’s preference for other men was commonly known, and while this type of behavior was frowned upon or even outlawed in some other realms, here in Ceja no one cared. The jester was disliked strictly for his personality.
“What are you doing here, Siris?” she finally asked, still shaken and holding her Magic at the ready.
“I thought we might talk,” he said.
Before she could reply, her handmaiden Seta appeared in the doorway, presumably drawn by the sou
nd of their voices. Spotting Siris, her eyes widened in shock even as she quickly drew her dagger.
“Wait!” Aya commanded.
Seta’s look flew to her. “We didn’t allow him inside, your highness. No one’s approached your door all afternoon!”
Eyes narrowing, Aya looked back to the jester. He met her gaze expressionlessly, saying nothing.
“It’s fine, Seta,” she then said. “Return to your post.”
The woman gave her a long look, and eventually shook her head. “I’ll remain here, princess.”
The cause of the woman’s concern wasn’t a mystery, and something Aya was also contemplating; having recently divulged the secret of her pyromancy to her handmaidens, making them the only souls besides Aharon aware of this, her Magic lent no peace of mind under these present circumstances. Also adorned in a Secondary of Magic, Siris was a light-bringer, which among other things enabled him to call lightning. Aya had no idea how she’d fare against him, if her power was strong enough to overcome his, nor did she particularly want to find out.
Even so, she felt more curious over the man’s presence—and how he’d gotten into her chambers—than threatened by it. And truthfully, if he’d wanted to kill her, doubtless he would’ve just done so while her back was turned.
“She can stay,” Siris said now, glancing to Seta with another smile. “I don’t mind.”
Nodding, Aya started toward the pair of wicker seats placed against the wall. “Shall we, then?” she invited, sinking down.
Siris followed her lead by taking the second chair, while Seta moved several steps closer. Her dagger remained in her hand, leaving little question that she’d release it at the first hint of danger.
Aya turned her gaze back on Siris, but trying to assess this man had never been easy. He’d won the role of royal jester five years earlier, and mainly because the king enjoyed watching his tumbling maneuvers, which were exemplary. In the time since, Siris had become known as a notorious eavesdropper, inciter of drama, and all-around unlikable individual. He also wasn’t as clever as he thought he was, although unlike her siblings, Aya had always made a point to be kind to him on the chance this effort paid off one day. She was now hoping today was that day, despite the fact that she didn’t particularly like or trust the jester.
“How did you get inside my quarters?” she now began.
Gazing about the shadowy darkness, he raised a hand toward one of the oil lamps and its glow instantly brightened, illuminating the entire room as though daylight were still streaming through the windows. “Much better, yes?” he then said, his green gaze swinging back to her.
She squinted in the sudden brightness. As a light-bringer, Siris could manipulate any form of light, expanding or diminishing its intensity to suit his fancy. He was well-known for influencing the torchlight that illuminated the palace corridors at night, and delighted in causing the knights on patrol to trip and fall by pitching them into sudden darkness. How he escaped retribution for this behavior Aya didn’t know.
“Siris,” she tried again. “How did you enter here? It’s important that I know.”
Again, he ignored her question. “You must be happy, now your lover’s finally returned,” he said instead.
“It’s difficult being happy about anything at this particular time,” she answered, hoping to steer him toward some manner of relevant discussion.
Instead, her words elicited a scandalized look. “What a crushing truth for Aharon,” the jester said. “I imagine you’re much higher on his list of priorities…perhaps not the summit, but high nonetheless.”
Aya arched an eyebrow. “If you’ve come to try and drive a wedge between Neco and I, you can save yourself the effort.”
He sighed. “You put me in a terrible position, princess. I truly don’t wish for you to die.”
“Is that a threat?”
He shook his head solemnly. “No. As you can imagine, I’ve found recent events wildly entertaining, and it’s been a joy to observe your wretched siblings killing each other off, one by one. However, such frivolity has passed, and choices must now be made.”
“Choices? Explain.”
“You’ve always treated me well,” he went on, rather than answer, “as has one other. I do wish you’d chosen a different alliance.”
Aya paused, thinking quickly. “Which one of them are you helping, Siris?” she then asked, somewhat tensely. She believed the jester’s claim that he didn’t wish her harm, but she also knew how much he hated Neco, and thought this might outweigh his concern for her. Indeed, his statement was troubling.
Since it didn’t appear he had any intention of responding to her question, she now decided to try a different tactic. “What did he or she promise you in return for your aid? To preserve your appointment as jester?”
While he still didn’t reply, she thought this seemed the logical answer. What other motivation could he have? True, he’d admitted that the circumstances were providing him much glee, but once Ceja’s new ruler emerged he’d be replaced, bringing an end to all his fun as well as his status. A vow to keep him on as jester in exchange for his help was the only sensible conclusion.
“Siris,” she said now, straightening in her chair, “might you reconsider your own alliance if I secure a similar promise from Neco?”
He frowned. “I could hardly trust his word.”
“No, but you can trust mine.”
He failed to look convinced. “Even were that the case, why would I wish to serve a king who so clearly despises me?”
It was a fair question, and unfortunately, she couldn’t think of a persuasive response quickly enough. “Wait,” she then said, as he pushed to his feet.
He looked down at her. “Be wary, princess. I would never harm you…but I will mourn you.”
“Siris, please. Give me a chance to speak with Neco, and I’m certain we can work something out.”
He shrugged. “You can try. But I suggest you hurry.”
Eyeing him, she was unable to suppress a frown. The truth was, Siris wasn’t only the eyes and ears of this palace, but he also knew its every nook and cranny, a fact most recently evidenced by his startling appearance here in her chambers. She and Aharon had discussed the jester just the day before, and they’d both voiced hope that he was merely playing the part of spectator, amusing himself solely by watching the carnage unfold. Learning otherwise was therefore unsettling rather than shocking, but they could clearly add one more enemy to their list.
As the jester now began stepping away, moving toward the door, Seta looked questionably to Aya.
Should I stab him? she was asking.
Aya needed no time to debate, and responded with a slight shake of her head; given his Magic, she believed any such attack would only result in Seta’s death rather than Siris’s. Furthermore, she still thought to try and bend his loyalty, although his and Neco’s mutual hatred wouldn’t make this task easy. Even so, and because the jester would be a useful ally but troublesome enemy, she wanted to at least make the effort.
He was nearly to the doorway now, but turned and looked back when she spoke his name.
“Yes, princess?” he said in response.
“Will you at least tell me how you gained access here?” she tried again.
“No, but not to worry,” he told her in reply. “I won’t be back for you.”
Chapter 5
Aharon spent most of the afternoon questioning various knights of the royal guard, a somewhat awkward undertaking given his contentious—and well-known—relationship with their captain. Some of these men outright refused to speak with him, but others were civil and even forthcoming, supplying whatever answers they could.
Eventually, Aharon was able to conclude that most members of the royal guard were alarmed and horrified by the ongoing situation, and were now hoping for a quick resolution, however matters fell. Many of the knights he’d spoken with had further been mourning those already lost, having served on the private guards of the five sla
in princes. These men all seemed to blame their failed vigilance for the deaths, rather than the brutal circumstances instigated by the king.
In the end, his questions produced nothing definitive, but they did uncover some new information and leave him with several details to ponder. He planned on discussing his findings with Aya and Neco at supper, and hoped the information would allow them to draw some further conclusions.
Now late afternoon, he was making his way through the palace when he happened across his father. Presently descending a staircase while the other man climbed upward, Aharon figured he might as well get this over with and drifted to a pause.
Othos Shai noted his stance and continued to advance, not halting until they shared the same step. With a glint of curiosity in his eye, he then met his son’s gaze.
“I’ve noticed you gawking at me these past few days,” Aharon opened, “so if you have something to say, just say it.”
The captain’s expression remained fixed as he replied. “The king didn’t summon you. You shouldn’t be here.”
“The king has more important matters to focus on, those incited by his own depravity,” Aharon returned.
“Everyone knows you’ve come to aid Neco. You place a target on your own back, Aharon.”
“How fortunate, then, that I was taught to defend myself.”
“Indeed. Perhaps now you’ll have some appreciation for my efforts.”
Aharon snorted. “You’re as fiendish and immoral as the king you serve, and no less an aberration to your station.”
“Watch yourself, son. Such words may come to haunt you.”
“I don’t think so. In fact, I imagine my presence, and all it implies, makes you rather nervous. For you can’t possibly believe Neco will continue your service under his own rule.”
The captain nodded. “Perhaps not, but nor is he reckless enough to slight tradition entirely. Turo will replace me, leaving the prestige of our line intact and our ties to the crown strong.”
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