by H. L. Burke
Without another word, Olyn stormed from the room. Evyd stumbled to his chair and collapsed. With a shaking hand, he poured himself a tumbler of liquor, golden drops spilling upon the table top.
Everything felt unreal, as if he were stuck in a nightmare rather than sitting in his own study in his own palace in the kingdom he’d lived in his entire life and ruled for half of it. How could Olyn have turned on him?
Another knock on the door rattled him further.
“Come in!” he barked.
Friya swept in, her brow wrinkled. “I passed Olyn in the hall. The expression on his face was ... peculiar.”
Memory of Olyn’s rueful smile cut Evyd’s last nerve, and he snatched up his tumbler and flung it into the fire place. The flames roared.
Friya’s eyebrows arched. “I take it your talk did not go well?”
“The fool boy is going to ruin everything!” Evyd leaped to his feet. The full accounting of Olyn’s treachery gushed from him. Through it all, Friya stood in silence, her face expressionless.
Finally Evyd plopped into his chair, defeated in spirit and tired of body. “We were so close.”
Friya tapped her finger against her lips. “It’s an inconvenience, but the boy misjudges his own importance. If we go through with the ceremony and use Prince Kajik’s blood to seal shut the gaps between our world and the Lingering Dark, then the prophesied protection of the Star Prince and Sun Princess is no longer needed. We don’t need him—”
“We don’t need him for the prophecy.” Evyd glared at her. “However, Olyn and Kajik are the only two men with the proper blood to carry the starcasting magic to the next generation, as well as being the only hope for the line of kings to continue. He’s right, I can’t kill him, not without throwing away the legacy of our entire family, as well as allowing the Starspire to fall, for without a starcaster to enchance the magic of the Starspire, the range of its power will shrink and our way of life will end.” His fists clenched. “I will not be the last king of my line.”
“But if Olyn succeeds in turning the people against you, everything comes to naught.” Friya gave a slow nod. “It is a problem.”
“If only I could slap some sense into the fool.” Evyd’s jaw tightened until it hurt.
“Blows rarely convey the arguments we hope they will,” Friya said dryly. She sighed wearily. “There is one possibility. It’s dark magic, something I’d hoped not to have to use.” She settled in the chair Evyd had vacated, her legs crossed, her hands folded in her lap. “There is a specific magic that can wipe away the memory of a person from all who knew him, essentially erasing his existence. If Olyn cannot remember Kajik, he won’t have any reason to defy you for Kajik’s sake.”
Evyd blinked. “I can just erase the knowledge of him?” Relief swept through him followed swiftly by suspicion and then anger. “If you knew that this magic existed, why didn’t you tell me sooner? I wouldn’t have had to wait for a legal justification for killing Kajik if I knew I would be able to wipe him from history. No one could accuse me of murdering a man who they didn’t know ever existed—”
“Which is exactly why I never told you, brother.” Friya rolled her eyes. “Also why I only now tell you because of the dire situation we are in. A king should not have such power. No man should, perhaps, but after Athan’s betrayal of our family, I took to studying what I could find of dark magic in hopes of protecting us from it. I know enough to make this happen—though it will cost both of us dearly. I will need your magic, as you share blood with the boy, and it will force you to absorb dark powers.”
Evyd blanched. “I can’t commune with the star spirits if I’m tainted with dark magic, and I need to be able to do so—”
“It will fade within hours. You’ll at worst be disconnected from the Starspire until the dimming.” She waved dismissively at him. “It will be a one time allowance, and I will conduct the spell so that you are unable to do it in the future.”
The idea that Friya would withhold power from him irked Evyd, and he crossed his arms and continued to glare at her. Still, he needed her cooperation to get through this. He couldn’t risk antagonizing her now. “We need to work quickly. Olyn has only given me until the dimming to decide, and once they start, the fires of rebellion need little fuel. Even forgetting the cause behind their unrest, the people might still fight for Olyn after they are stirred up. Also, I’d like to be through with this before blood is shed.”
Other than Kajik’s, of course.
Friya stood. “I’ll put everything in motion.”
Chapter Twenty
Kay was sitting with his eyes closed, trying not to wonder how much time had passed since he’d been deposited there, when his cell door creaked open again. Clindt entered, starshard lantern in one hand, a steaming bowl in the other.
“I brought you some soup.” The mender handed off the bowl to Kay before sitting beside him.
Warmth seeped through the earthenware vessel into Kay’s stiff hands. Even with the cloak, the cell was miserably cold.
“Thanks.” He raised the bowl to his face and inhaled the vapor rising from it. He could smell herbs and moss-elk meat. His stomach growled. After blowing on it, he tilted the contents carefully into his mouth. Warmth trickled through him.
“I have a long watch, it seems.” Clindt leaned against the wall. “Olyn’s up to something he won’t disclose, and he’s asked me to stay with you to make sure your father doesn’t try anything stupid while Olyn’s distracted.”
“One of you should be with Arynne.” Kay frowned between gulps of savory soup.
Clindt laughed. “Sigid is staying with her to make sure she doesn’t try anything stupid. Arynne’s a force to be reckoned with, and I wouldn’t put engineering your escape all on her own past her, but Olyn wants to try his way first.”
Kay chewed thoughtfully on a bit of elk meat. He had little faith that Olyn’s usual methods would do any good under these circumstances, but he also didn’t want Arynne risking her safety in order to save him. Of course, Clindt probably wouldn’t be much protection for Arynne against either Evyd or her own impulses. While his cousin had trained with the wardens for a short while, Kay couldn’t remember him ever carrying a weapon, and he had no magical abilities that would be useful in a fight.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but if my father does try something, what’s your plan?” Kay tilted his head. “Reach into his chest and heal him into changing his mind?”
“Scarcely better.” Clindt laughed. “Honestly, I know I’m useless in a battle. If your father shows up, I’m supposed to run and get Olyn as fast as I can. He has plans in motion that he thinks will stop your father from trying anything, so I’m only here for a little extra security—and to make sure you aren’t being roughly handled in the meantime.”
That made more sense. More a babysitter than a bodyguard. “I’m fine if you want to leave. I feel guilty, you having to be here with me. Have you even seen your family this brightening?”
“No, but I stayed with them over the dimming.” Clindt rubbed a knuckle into his beard. “My wife understands what’s going on, and she doesn’t mind. Keeping you safe is worth some short term sacrifice on my part.” He sighed. “I haven’t explained the situation to the girls. They’re too young to worry about it, but as a mender, I’ve often stayed with patients for long periods, so they won’t think anything is off.”
“Yeah.” Kay finished off the soup and set the bowl aside. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met your family—definitely not your daughters. I don’t even know how old they are.”
“I tend to keep them away from the chaos that is our family and palace life.” Clindt clicked his tongue. “With everything that’s been going on, I’m even more glad I made that choice.”
“Yeah.” Kay winced. “So how old are they?”
“Alyse is eight starcycles, dark haired like her mother, serious and solemn. Brenna’s six with auburn hair and a mischievous spirit.”
Kay re
coiled. “Brenna?”
A slight smile quirked Clindt’s lips. “I always admired your mother, our late queen. How she stood up to your father. I was only eight starcycles when she passed away, but I remember the stories told in whispers, about when she defied her husband and king to save her child.”
Kay’s chin dropped towards his chest. He was that child. The one his mother had risked everything, and possibly lost her life, to save. “I wish I’d had a chance to get to know her.”
“From what I remember she was an amazing woman.” Clindt gripped his shoulder. “I always felt she should be remembered and spoken of more than was allowed by your father—also it’s a pretty name.”
Silence fell over the room broken by the steady drip of water. Kay had never been able to locate the source of it, but the sound echoed in the quiet until it nearly drove him mad.
After a bit, Clindt spoke. “I made my choices because of my family, but I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you more growing up. Maybe if I’d stayed in the wardens instead of quitting to start my family we would’ve had a chance to serve together and get to know each other before everything went to frostbite.” He hung his head. “Also, I’m sorry for misjudging you in the past.”
“To be fair, in the past, I didn’t do much to prove anyone wrong about me.” Kay rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m still not sure I merit the trust Arynne and Olyn have put in me—especially Arynne.”
“You do,” Clindt said firmly. “Some people don’t show their true character until they are tested, and you’re one of them. You’ve proved yourself a thousand times over since the heartbond with Arynne—to the same extent that I feel I’ve failed to do so.” He focused on his knees. “I’m not the heroic type, you know? Even before I left the wardens, I knew I didn’t have an interest in taking risks, and now, especially with my girls, the thought of doing something that would potentially leave them fatherless terrifies me. I wish I were braver. I wish I could’ve helped you more.”
“For what it’s worth, Clindt, if my father had been even half the father to me that you are to your girls, I would’ve considered him a hero. Sometimes it’s not big life-altering moments that mean the most. It’s being there, showing love to those who need it most from you, brightening after brightening ... there’s a quiet bravery to that, and I’d give half my blood to get a chance to live that, to have my own family at some point, like you.”
Clindt flushed. “Thanks, and I hope you do get a chance. Becoming a father is nerve-racking, but in the best way possible.”
An empty ache filled Kay’s stomach as he remembered briefly discussing children with Arynne. That hope was fading like footprints scoured away by a blizzard wind.
Footsteps echoed in the distance, growing louder as what sounded like a group of people descended the stairs into the dungeon. Kay stiffened. Light trickled under the doorway, not the pleasant silver-white of starshards, but the hot orange glow of torches.
Fear spiked within him, and instinctively, he searched for the heartbond. It was still too weak to give him any idea of where she was or how she was feeling, but the essence of her, though slight, comforted him.
“Easy,” Clindt murmured. “I know Olyn had a plan.”
The door opened, and two broad-shouldered men strode in. Kay squinted at them. He’d expected wardens, but these men wore civilian garments and were strangers to him—well, strangers in that he didn’t know their names. He had a vague recollection that he’d seen both a time or two lingering around the local taverns. Had his father brought in hired muscle rather than the wardens who served him? Why?
Not even bothering to ask him to stand, the two men grabbed Kay by the arms and yanked him up and out of the cell.
“Hey!” Clindt protested.
Kay blinked as torchlight flooded his face. When his vision cleared, he managed to get to his own feet rather than being dragged along by the heavies. His father, Aunt Friya, and his cousin Valka stared him down, Friya and Valka with their typical calm, though hate burned in Evyd’s eyes. Valka carried a bundle that looked like a small, rolled up carpet.
Kay stuck out his chest and squared his shoulders as best he could while restrained. He’d already accepted they could kill him. If all that was left to him was to die with a little dignity, he’d hold onto that.
“Let’s get this over with.” Evyd nodded to Friya.
“I’ll need him restrained,” Friya said in the same tone she might’ve used to discuss the weather. “It’s delicate work, and I can’t have him writhing about.”
Kay’s brow furrowed. He’d never heard an execution described as “delicate.” What were they about?
“Mother, Uncle, what’s going on?” Clindt came up behind Kay only to have one of the brutes take a threatening step towards him. The slighter man shied back a step.
“We’re just fixing your mess, brother dear.” Valka smirked.
From within her bundle she produced a metal bar which she passed to the hired men. The rod was as long as man’s arm span with manacles at either end. Grabbing Kay by the shoulders, the men pushed him to his knees and forced his arms outstretched. He cringed as the manacles fastened about his wrists. The device forced his shoulders into an unnatural angle, his chest muscles aching in protest. They then bound his ankles together with leather cords.
“Is that really necessary?” Clindt barked.
Ignoring him, Friya swept forward. “Here.” She motioned to the floor before Kay.
Valka untied her bundle and rolled it out, revealing a mat of gray cloth decorated with strange dark symbols: crescent moons, inverted stars, and strangest of all for their sunless realm, black suns. Kay’s heartrate quickened to a painful degree. He tried to pray, but the words scrambled in his brain, and all he could think was a silent shout for help.
Valka jerked her thumb at the men holding Kay. “Face up.”
Clindt’s eyes widened, his jaw slack. “Mother, what’s going on? Those ... that looks like dark magic.”
Friya rolled her eyes. “When one is facing a great enemy, one must use all the weapons at one’s disposal, son.”
Kay stiffened. “A great enemy?”
“Kajik is hardly that.” Clindt stepped closer, only to have the taller of the two thugs block his way.
“She means Athan, you idiot.” Valka snorted. Kay’s entire being went cold. Did they know about Athan’s contact with him? Is that why they were so eager to see him dead?
Before he could process this, the thugs pushed him forward onto the mat, face first, then flipped him over—roughly. Kay’s air went out of him as his spine slammed into the stone floor, scarcely cushioned by the thin layer of rough cloth.
He groaned. “I would’ve lain down if you’d have just asked.”
“Shut up!” Evyd barked. “We need to get started.”
Kay breathed a silent prayer to the Ever. I’d appreciate a miracle right now, but if this is truly the end, please, accept my soul into your Field of Stars. Let me watch over my loved ones and see them safe and well.
“What does Kajik have to do with Athan?” Clindt sidestepped the ruffian to glare at his mother.
“He has the right blood.” Friya reached into the pouch hanging from her sash and withdrew a small knife of dark stone and a handful of starshards—but not normal starshards. Kay’s mouth went dry as he recognized the sickly, greenish light they gave off. Those starshards were corrupted. The star spirits no longer sang within them.
Clindt’s gulp was audible. “Mother, you shouldn’t be toying with foul powers.”
She waved him off. “What is a dangerous toy to the simple-minded can be a useful tool in the hands of those who know how to wield it.”
Kay squirmed against his bonds.
“I still don’t understand what this has to do with Kajik or Athan.” Clindt’s eyes darted over the scene before him. Friya moved around Kay, placing the corrupted shards at even intervals. A prickling dark power rose off them. It trickled into Kay’s flesh, causing his
skin to crawl and his stomach to churn.
Clindt inhaled sharply. “I recognize this—”
Valka tossed her hair. “Oh, really, Clindt? What does a hollier-than-thou mender know of such ‘foul’ things?”
His face darkened. “I learned much about dark magic, but only so that I could heal those afflicted by it. You’re performing a soul sacrifice, offering his essence to the dark spirits. Whatever you think you’ll get in return for that unholy trade, it’s not worth it.”
“I think the safety of the kingdom is worth the soul of a single man.” Friya continued her preparations.
“What are you going to do to me?” Kay’s blood turned to water. While not eager to die, he had resigned himself to it. This, though, sounded far worse than death.
Clindt cast one last harried look around the room and bolted for the stairs. Kay’s heart faltered.
“Should we stop him, your highness?” The taller brute glanced at Evyd. “He might be going for help.”
Evyd shook his head. “It won’t matter in a moment. Friya, do you have the memory erasure spell on hand?”
She reached into her pouch again and withdrew a vial of dark liquid. “Yes, but you need to apply it, not me. The dark magic will bond to whomever initiates the spell and take enough of their energy that they’ll be weakened afterwards. I need my magic to complete the sacrifice.” She passed the vial to Evyd. “It needs to mix with your blood as well as his. A prick of your fingertip should be enough.”
With his panic growing by the heartbeat and those present continuing to talk over him as if he wasn’t even there, Kay’s temper snapped. “What is going on?” he shouted. “Father!”
Evyd turned his back on him.
Kay’s stomach clenched. “Sir, if you ever loved me, or even if not, if you ever loved my mother, I deserve to know what’s going to happen to me. Please. I’ve given up begging for my life. I know it’s futile, but I want to know what I’m facing, so I can prepare. What are you going to do to me?”