by H. L. Burke
Kay sighed. The room wasn’t large enough to pace more than a few steps from side to side. A sleeping pallet, covered in straw and a rough blanket, and a single bucket, which he assumed was for relieving himself, made up the whole of the contents. In spite of the awkwardness of having his hands behind his back, he managed to sit on the pallet. “I guess I just wait here then.”
The warden who had stayed quiet the whole time snorted before shutting the door between Kay and the outside world. Their footsteps faded in the distance, taking the light from the starshard lantern with them. Kay sat in the darkness, alone.
A chill crept up Kay’s spine. He hoped the warden kept his word about the cloak. An unnerving silence fell over him. His own heart beat sounded loud in the emptiness, and he resisted the urge to hum or whistle just to fill the quiet. No, he was strong enough to handle this without resorting to such tricks in the first moments.
He closed his eyes and tried to picture Arynne’s face. After a while he drifted into a doze.
A COLD WIND SWEPT OVER him, ruffling his hair and snapping his eyes open. He inhaled sharply. He sat on a plain of ice, broken only by jagged teeth of dark stone. A dark pall of clouds covered the sky, lit by constant flashes of sickly green lightning. He stumbled to his feet and found his hands unbound.
He gritted his teeth. “Athan, release me. You have nothing to say that I want to hear.”
A chuckle echoed through the sky like distant thunder. “I told you your only hope was allying with me. You thought you could save the girl on your own, and where did that get you?”
“It got me with a saved girl.” Kay crossed his arms. “I knew the cost. I accepted it. If you just called me here to gloat, then do so. I have no pride left.”
“And no hope?” A funnel cloud descended from the sky, a spinning column that touched the earth. It faded leaving behind the wizened figure of Athan.
Kay swallowed. Olyn and Arynne had both begged him not to give up, but miracle from the Ever himself aside, Kay couldn’t see any way out of this.
“I don’t need hope. I accomplished what I meant to. I had as good a life as I could expect considering my fate—no, infinitely better.”
“But it’s not over yet.” The sorcerer glided closer, his robes masking his steps so he seemed to float rather than walk across the ground. “Even if you saved Princess Arynne from the sickness, the fact remains, because of you she is not bonded to your brother and the prophecy to defeat me will not come to pass.”
Kay shuddered. “My father intends to remedy that.”
“And you accept this? To die and be forgotten? To have your beloved tied to another man? To have your woman taken into your brother’s bed as if you never existed?”
“It’s not like I’ll have to watch.” Kay forced an unconcerned shrug though his stomach twisted.
Athan’s sunken eyes glinted. “You still have a chance. Agree to help me return, and I will raise you to a place of honor in my new kingdom—with your bride at your side. All you have to sacrifice is a father who hates you and a brother who wouldn’t risk his own comfort to protect you.”
Anger spiked within Kay. Starcycles spent trying and failing to win his father’s favor had hardened him to the old man’s plight, but Olyn had stood beside Kay when all else seemed against him.
“Blizzard take you and your offer.”
Violet flames erupted at Kay’s feet. He jumped back a step, but never lessened his glare at Athan. Instead of burning, a biting cold rose from the fire. It grew in intensity, and soon a wall of it surrounded Kay. It wreathed Athan though he did not flinch.
“Spurn me if you so choose, but be warned, boy, I will see that you are devoured and forgotten. No trace of you will remain in the mortal realm—”
“I’m pretty sure my own father will have taken care of that long before you’ve gotten to me.” Kay snorted. There was certainly some freedom in hopelessness.
Athan jeered at him, “Your father wants you dead. I want you alive long enough to regret this. Let me give you a sample of what that will be like.”
The sorcerer flung his hands forward, and a wave of black smoke crashed on top of Kay. It stung him, cold and fierce. It filled his mouth and snaked into his lungs. He coughed and fell to his knees, unable to breathe.
This isn’t real. I’m safe in my cell. I need to wake up.
He tried to latch onto his heartbond with Arynne, but it was too faint. It slipped through his grasp and left him flailing in the darkness.
“Kay?” A voice echoed through the fog.
Olyn.
He reached for the voice, straining in its direction.
“Kay!”
Someone shook him, and he woke up with a gasp.
Olyn crouched before him, fingers alight with his magic. “Are you all right?”
Kay cast a quick glance around him to be certain he’d returned rather than somehow pulled Olyn into the vision along with him. Dark stone walls, rough straw beneath him, the smell of mildew and musty bedding—yeah, he was in the dungeon. Strange that that should be a relief.
Even so, if Athan was able to reach him within the light of the Starspire, his power had grown immensely—or perhaps his connection to Kay.
As he wriggled into a seated position, a cloak fell from his body. Apparently the warden had been good to his word, draping it across Kay as he’d slept.
“What’s wrong? You were shaking.”
Kay considered his brother’s worried blue eyes. Disclosing that he was somehow linked to their kingdom’s greatest enemy did not appeal to him. Besides, what good would it do? Evyd would kill Kay long before Athan could act.
“Just a nightmare,” he lied.
“Can’t say I blame you.” Olyn settled cross-legged besides his brother. He reached behind him. “Want your hands back?”
“Yes, please.” Kay grimaced. Olyn drew a short knife from a sheath at his belt and cut through the cords binding his brother’s wrists. When the bonds snapped, Kay slumped forward, suddenly aware of the stiffness in his shoulders and upper back. He rolled his shoulders before rubbing his wrists, chafed by the bonds. Experimentally, he slipped his finger under the magic-dampening collar. He found what felt like a lock with a small keyhole and no obvious way to release it. With a sigh, he draped the cloak about his shoulders then let his hands fall to his knees. “I can’t even remember falling asleep. How long have I been down here?”
“A while.” Olyn fiddled with his knife for a moment before tucking it away in its sheath again. “Clindt and I have been taking turns guarding the door, just in case Father tries anything. He had the first shift, but I took over for him just a bit ago. Convinced the guards to let me in when I heard you whimpering in your sleep.”
Kay’s face heated. “Whimpering, huh?”
“Moaning?” Olyn tilted his head.
“Not much better.” Kay brushed his hands back through his hair, dislodging several pieces of straw.
They sat in silence, Olyn slouched and staring at his own fingers, still alight with starcasting power, Kay watching Olyn out of the corner of his eye while pretending not to.
Olyn sighed. “I slipped out of the palace while Clindt was on watch—just to get a feel for what the populace thought of everything that’s transpired.”
Kay sat up a little straighter. “And?”
“You’re not going to like it much.” Olyn shook his head. “Father’s wasted no time getting his version of events into the rumor mill, and from what I was able to catch, the populace is lapping it up like a cat-owl at cream.”
Kay’s heart shriveled in his chest. “What are they saying?”
“That you came to covet my rightful bride so you used dark magic to interfere with the heartbonding ceremony, which is why you were banished—also that you sneaked home again to ... well, some stories say finish Arynne off because if you couldn’t have her no one could, others are somewhere between you planning to steal her away or ravish her in her weakened state.”
&nb
sp; Kay’s tongue felt thick and unwieldy in his mouth. Somehow he managed to choke out, “That’s not how I’d prefer to be remembered.”
“It’s not how you deserve to be remembered.” Anger sharpened Olyn’s tone.
Kay scratched at his beard. “The people who really matter, they all know the truth, or near enough to it. You, Arynne, Clindt, though it’s a surprise to me that I care what he thinks ... I do, though. Also, I think the men I served with directly will give me the benefit of the doubt. Crede, Frole, and Idyne know why I returned, at least.”
“You don’t deserve—” Olyn’s jaw clamped shut. “I’ve put up with so much from him. I kept telling myself over and over again that he was misguided but well-meaning. That he did what was best for Frorheim, and in his own twisted way he ... Kay, I can’t keep lying to myself anymore. I can’t defend him.”
Realizing he meant their Father, Kay hung his head. He’d had no delusion of his father’s true nature. He’d felt the brunt of the man’s malice too many times to imagine any true benevolence in him. Still, he didn’t like seeing the pain that realization brought his brother.
“I’m sorry, Kay,” Olyn stammered. “Maybe if I’d seen it sooner, I could’ve protected you somehow. I could’ve put aside my fear of displeasing him, of causing discord, and stood by you when he—I failed you, and now I don’t know if I can save you.”
“Olyn, no.” Kay gripped his brother’s shoulder. “You didn’t fail me. My whole life, you’ve been the one thing I could depend on. My earliest memory is hiding behind you from Father while he raged at me for some forgotten offense.” He laughed quietly “It seems that’s always been our lives.”
“It shouldn’t be.” Olyn toyed with his starshard ring. The setting glowed with a new intensity, reflecting off his blue eyes. “I have one move left to make. It’s a bold one, and I’m not sure I can pull it off, but if I can it might force him to spare you.”
“Don’t take any risks for me.” Kay tightened his hold on his brother. “I want to live, I won’t lie, but I want you and Arynne to be safe a hundred times more. If it puts you, or her, in danger—”
“I won’t endanger Arynne.” Olyn stood.
Kay’s chest tightened. “And yourself?”
Olyn focused on his ring. “Father needs me alive, Kay. He’s too old to be certain he can sire another heir before his death, let alone before Athan’s prophesied return. In that way, I’m probably the only human being in Frorheim with any leverage over him, and it’s about time I used that.”
Chapter Nineteen
Evyd paced about his chambers like a caged wolf ready to start chewing at the bars. Anxiety roiled his stomach. He stopped in front of the fireplace.
If anything he should be feeling relief. Kajik had finally played right into his father’s hands like a frost rabbit leaping for a snare. With the legal right to execute Kajik, Evyd would solve two problems: ridding the royal line of an unwanted blight and using the boy’s starcaster blood to bind Athan permanently in the Lingering Dark.
Everything was falling into place.
So why did Evyd feel like he stood upon ice that was ready to shatter?
Someone knocked on the door. Relief swept through him. It had to be Friya letting him know that everything was in place for the ritual. Finally, after starcyles of waiting, his worries were at an end.
Forsaking decorum, he rushed to the door and yanked it open.
Olyn frowned at him from the other side, his face drawn, and his blue eyes atypically grim. “We need to talk.”
Evyd sneered. “I have a good guess as to the topic you have in mind, and I see no need for further discussion on the matter.”
“Oh, I’d say there is much need.” Olyn slammed the door behind himself. “You’re going to call this off. You’re going to let Kay out of that cell, and you’re going to get rid of the toadies you have slinking around the city dragging Kay’s name through the elk dung.”
Evyd snorted. “And why would I do that? I have every legal right to do what I want with him.”
“Legal right does not make moral right, especially when you engineered a trap for your own son.” Olyn crossed his arms. “If Clindt hadn’t told me it was impossible for you to do so without dampening your starcasting powers, I’d suspect you somehow caused Arynne’s illness to draw him in.”
“Preposterous!” Evyd spun on his heels, intending to stomp away, but Olyn’s hand clamped down on his shoulder.
“I’m not finished,” the prince barked.
Ice crept through Evyd’s chest, though he didn’t know why. He jerked away from his son but did not attempt to flee.
Olyn let out a hissing breath. “For starcycles I told myself that you were only hard on Kay because you had a high standard for him, that you wanted him to prove himself worthy of the royal line, that while you were unfair, it was done out of a sense of duty to ensure that our family legacy remained whole, not out of malice. I may have even idiotically told Kay that if he just kept his head down and did his best not to upset you that you’d come around at some point. That he could convince you to see him for his potential, not his flaws.” He shook his head. “Now I don’t know how I could’ve been so blind. No matter what Kay did, it would never be good enough for you. His self-sacrifice with Arynne and your eagerness to kill him for it proves that. You know as well as I that he only returned to save her, and he did so knowing that he would pay for it with his life.” Olyn’s voice cracked, and contempt rose within Evyd.
“He swore a life oath.” He scowled. “Paint whatever pretty veneer you want over that, but breaking it makes him a criminal and a—”
“And a hero,” Olyn snapped. “If you can’t see that, there’s no hope for you, but even then it doesn’t matter. You can’t kill him.”
“His bond to the girl dooms our nation!” Evyd punched his fist into his opposite hand. “You think I should show mercy to one man at the cost of hundreds?”
“You don’t know that. If anything, the heartbond choosing him over me suggests we need Kay, that maybe he, not I, is the Star Prince of prophecy.”
“He can’t be—”
“As long as you and I are alive.” Olyn gave a rueful laugh. “If either of us perish before Athan’s return, Kay is the next in line for the title, and I don’t know about you, Father, but last I checked, I wasn’t immortal.”
The frost in Evyd’s chest spread to his throat, stealing his voice. His jaw worked but nothing came out. It couldn’t be. Kajik was the unwanted second son. His birth prophecy had seen him surrounded by shadow, tainted by Athan’s magic. Olyn was the stronger brother, the shining prince that Evyd had staked everything on. The idea that he could be mistaken shivered within him like a frightened child then melted away against the force of his growing wrath.
“Don’t speak of such things in my presence!” he snarled. “Are you suggesting that I should die to make way for that rot eating away at our family tree? Or that the kingdom should accept him over you, my chosen heir? If you dare to breathe such treason within the light of my Starspire, Olyn, son or not, heir or not, I will have you locked in the cell along with your foul brother until you’ve regained your senses.”
But what if others have thought the same? I tried to keep the heartbonding with the Solean harlot a secret, but if rumors escaped, if somehow the populace finds out, they could turn against me and Olyn. I can’t handle both the potential return of Athan and a civil war between my sons ... Kajik needs to die before that can happen.
“Oh, I plan to do a lot more than speak of it if you don’t release Kay by the dimming.” Olyn squared his shoulders. “I am going to be certain the true story is known, that Kay gets credit for saving Arynne’s life, that the kingdom understands exactly why he was banished, and what they could lose if there is any chance you are wrong and Kay, not myself, is the prophesied Star Prince.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Evyd rasped.
“I already have.” Olyn smiled. “Before I came here I called a
meeting of all available wardens and told them the story. I also made sure the palace staff were informed, and you know how they like to talk. The snow has fallen. It won’t be put back in the clouds.”
Evyd’s stomach twisted until he feared he’d vomit. “You can’t—”
“I can, I did, and let me be even clearer.” Olyn jabbed a finger in his father’s face. “I don’t need you, Father. I have little attachment to the throne beyond a sense of duty, and the idea that you might disown me has zero weight at this point—and that you might kill me even less as at least that would force you to accept Kay as your heir. You don’t have time to sire another, not with Athan’s shadow looming over us and the boundaries between our world and the Lingering Dark growing weaker by the moonnotch—unless you savor the idea of an infant going up against the greatest sorcerer Frorheim has ever known.”
Evyd bared his teeth. “Don’t threaten me, boy.”
“Or what?” Olyn scoffed. “You can’t kill me, and due to your own machinations, the populace is more loyal to me than they are to you. After all, you’ve had me dealing with the brightening to dimming running of the kingdom while you sat on your beard and plotted your schemes. The wardens respect me. The trade guilds are beholden to me. The populace recognizes my authority. I may not be king in name, but in practice? I’m not far from it.” His voice lowered to a threatening timbre. “You can have me as your heir with my brother safely at my side, or you can have me as your enemy, and believe me, your war with Athan will look like infants squabbling over a toy when compared to what I will unleash on you and this kingdom.”
Evyd’s breath escaped him, along with what a less charitable assessment might’ve called a whimper.
Olyn drew himself up to his full height. “I imagine it will take you some time to adjust your thinking, so I’ll give you until the dimming, but I won’t be idle during that time. My plan is already in motion, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Either you declare your pardon for Kajik and give him the honor he merits for saving Arynne, and probably the kingdom with her, or you face the avalanche, and it will bury you.”