"We need to set an example," said Cavillion. "Hang the rioters, along with Anson. No one will riot—"
"The last thing we need is to deepen the divide between us and them. I want you to make sure that the prisoners are treated fairly—"
"They're rioters—"
"They're Kylaen," I said. "Or have you forgotten that?"
"They aren't Kylaen, I bet. Dissidents from Rave—"
"Rave is Kylae. We annexed them, remember?" I rubbed my face. How was I the only one who remembered that? "Get some rest, all of you. And in the morning, you had better come offering better solutions than war and violence."
I left them arguing amongst themselves, and I knew when I woke up, the problems still wouldn't be solved. The only way I was going to make any headway was if I fired all of them and replaced them with people I wanted. As king, I was within my rights to do that.
But I wouldn't be king for another six days, and I feared the country wouldn't survive that long without some intervention. Or a miracle.
I barely remembered arriving in my room and crawling into my bed, but sleep wouldn't come. In my mind's eye, I kept seeing my brother lying on the bloody ground. Sometimes he had a Raven face, sometimes his own.
I flopped onto my back and glanced at the phone next to my bed. Before I could stop myself, I yanked it to my ear.
"Yes, Your Majesty." My phone was linked directly to my mother's security detail below, a necessary precaution with my father's penchant for eavesdropping.
"Snyder," I said quietly. "Can you make a phone call for me?"
"Where to?"
"Kylaen Royal Hospital."
"Will do."
I waited, staring at the ceiling and preparing what I'd say to my mother. Realistically, I knew she wouldn't have any words of wisdom, or a magical solution, but perhaps she could help me see an angle I didn't.
But it was Snyder's voice that came back on the phone. "Sire, my apologies. It appears as though the circuits to the hospital are busy."
The riots, of course. People would be calling to check on their loved ones.
"I can keep trying but—"
"No," I said with a resigned sigh. Then, a new idea. "Can you find me Olivia Collins' number?"
Olivia
The ringing phone jolted me awake. I sat up, bleary-eyed and confused, before reaching to lift the handle off the receiver, intending to yell horribly at whomever thought calling at three in the morning was a good idea, especially as I'd returned late to my apartment after the flight.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Liv." Rhys sounded exhausted, but I was more surprised to hear his voice.
"Rhys, I... How did you get this number?"
"You know, it's good to be the king—"
"You aren't king yet," I reminded him, earning me a derisive snort.
"Tell me about it. But I had my people sniff out your phone number."
"Normally, a gentleman should ask the lady if he may call her," I said, lying back down in my bed and yawning. "And normally, I don't accept calls from gentlemen after nine."
"I needed to talk to you."
My heart skipped. "Is it Galian?"
"No. I mean, I don't know about Gally. I haven't heard anything, but...Liv, the country is falling apart and I don't know what to do. There was a riot tonight. Two hundred people were arrested, one dead—possibly more. And my council is preoccupied with executing Anson. They don't even care about Jervan and Herin."
I stared at the ceiling, wondering if I should be truthful about the conversations I was seeing in the Jervanian news media. Talk of war, retaliation. Striking Kylae while she was in turmoil and unable to defend herself.
"How am I supposed to lead this country when no one will listen to me? They're treating me like I'm an idiot, Liv. I'm king."
"Not yet," I reminded him gently. "And even if you were, a title doesn't automatically bestow respect. You have to force them to listen. Make declarations, forge alliances, that sort of thing."
"There's no one to forge an alliance with," he said. "The council is dead-set on avenging my father's death—"
"Don't you want to?" I asked, a little surprised.
"I...I don't know," he said after a breath. "I'm so sick of it all. I don't know if I can be responsible for more lives. To think, we wanted to ally ourselves with him."
I blinked. "What are you talking about?"
"My mother wanted to depose Bayard and put Anson in charge. Theo was trying to get an audience with him, and she did, but he almost killed her. Even after that, Mom thought he was the best choice for peace in Rave and Kylae." He snorted. "Well, he certainly did a good job deposing Bayard."
I knew it was said in jest, but it still unnerved me. "Rhys."
"It's all on my shoulders now, you know? And it's not just Kylae, but Rave. I don't even know what's going on over there, but I'm pretty sure it's much worse than here." He groaned. "I should ask someone what's going on over there, shouldn't I?"
"I think you should get some rest," I said gently. "You aren't making very much sense."
He chuckled, and the rich, velvet sound warmed my cheeks. "You're full of good advice lately, Liv."
"You know," I said, leaning back against my pillows and twirling my finger around the phone cord, "I don't recall giving you permission to call me that. It's Ms. Collins, if you please."
"I'm the...well, I'm gonna be king," he said, and I could almost picture his smile. "So I get to call you whatever I want... Olivia."
I found myself smiling then quickly detangled my finger from the phone line. "Get some rest, Rhys. You need it."
"You too. Goodnight."
THREE
Olivia
I slept poorly, deciding as the sun peered through the blinds in my bedroom that it was time to get on with the day. Rhys' voice echoed in my ear, reminding me that he had very few allies in Kylae and needed my help. But that wasn't the only thing weighing on my mind.
The company's transition to Jervan had been a disaster. Although we'd been building up our presence in Lakner, there was nowhere near enough infrastructure to support the wholesale migration of the company. In the accounting department, three clerks were sharing a single cramped office, and our storage facilities were filled to the brim with unused material. We'd had five ships under construction before the tidal wave hit Duran, and now we had one, and it was three months behind schedule.
But, these were paltry concerns compared to the notes I was getting from my employees. Many of them had families still in Kylae who were unable to make the move across the sea. Jervan had been welcoming, but they wouldn't accept all of Collins Shipbuilding personnel in a month.
I sipped my tea, staring out over the old city beneath my window, much as I used to do back home. Jervan always struck me as a country too concerned with preserving itself. Norose, in my opinion, struck the perfect balance between old and new, with the towering skyscrapers and old stone buildings. But Lakner's skyline was a hodgepodge of white-walled houses that lined the top of the cliffside surrounding the city. The people were nice enough, too chatty and fixed on the pleasures of life for my tastes.
The weather, however, was atrocious—steamy and hot all day long with barely a reprieve except for short thunderstorms that raged and boomed for half an hour then were quickly forgotten in the stifling sun. In the distance, ominous clouds were gathering, a sign of a stormy afternoon.
I placed my tea on my desk and rang for Dixon. He appeared in the doorway within seconds, a pad and pen ready to take down notes.
"We need to speak with President Kuman soon," I said simply. "This week."
Over the years, I'd asked Dixon to make a lot of impossible things happen. To his credit, he didn't flinch. "And what shall I say is the nature of the meeting?"
"It's on behalf of His Highness, Prince Rhys of Kylae," I said. "And Dixon, I do mean quite soon."
He nodded. "I'll do my best."
With Dixon working on helping Rhys, I could focus my a
ttention on the hundred or so other problems dogging my mind. I spent the morning reviewing proposed schedule changes, vetoing a few that were physically impossible to meet because of logistical and resource issues. I understood my managers were trying to make up for lost time, but my father had taught me that any job worth doing was worth doing right.
I gathered my edits to the schedule and left them on Dixon's desk before heading to the lift.
Every week since I'd started at the company, my father and I shared at least one lunch. Our conversations used to be more one-sided, with him bestowing wisdom and me nodding attentively. But now that I ran three-quarters of the company, it was a reporting session—and one I'd started to dread.
Mine wasn't the sort of father one writes long stories about, but he'd been a decent manager and an excellent businessman. What he'd lacked in love, he'd given in wisdom. The stress of the job had taken its toll on him, and I felt the clock ticking down to his retirement or passing. Much like Rhys, I had lived in the shadow of his successes, and felt his presence in every decision I made for the company. When Rhys had mentioned he'd hoped his father would never die, I'd almost quipped that I had the same thought almost daily.
My father had been vehemently against the move to Jervan, even though I and the rest of the board were clear it was the safest for our company and our employees. He'd refused to take time to speak with me the week before, and now, knowing his former dear friend Grieg had been assassinated, I wondered what sort of mood he'd be in today.
I found him in his office—the only one larger than mine—staring out onto the city, much as I'd been doing this morning. From the tension in his shoulders, he wasn't pleased, but there was also exhaustion in his stance. Never one to linger in doorways, I walked into the room, my heels clacking on the floor to announce my presence.
Not two seconds after I'd sat down, the doors opened with our catered lunch, and the finest Jervanian meats and cheeses was placed in front of us. Jervan was a nice place to visit, but if I had to live here permanently, I might need some larger clothes.
"So I hear you're taking meetings with the president of Jervan today," Father announced, without turning.
"I'm attempting to, yes," I said, willing the old childhood feeling of inadequacy to fall to the wayside. I was vice president of operations; I didn't need to cower before my own father.
He finally turned, the wrinkles on his face as pronounced as the gray hair on his temples. "You'd better not be getting involved with this...mess. We're not here to clean up what they shat out."
The corners of my mouth twitched at his crass image. "Agreed, but war between Kylae, Jervan, and Herin isn't in the best interests of the company."
"Isn't it, though? Jervan could use some more ships—"
"Father, it will take us at least five years to complete our infrastructure build over here," I said. "If these three countries go to war, it could be much longer. Our best course of action is to maintain peace, continue building our presence here and try to resume operations in Kylae once the country stabilizes."
He snorted. "I told you it was premature to move."
"Oh, so you were aware that Anson was planning to murder the king?" I asked, a little more hotly than I'd meant to. I swallowed my anger and said, "We did the best we could at the time with the information we had. Kylae wasn't safe for us, or you, for that matter."
"Grieg never would've hurt us. He needed us too much."
"He killed Mansela," I said quietly. No one in Kylae had mourned her, but I had laid a few flowers on the banks of the Madion Sea the day I'd found out. She was too young, too vocal. Too passionate. We disagreed on many things, but we both loved our country. She didn't deserve to die for it.
"She was a traitor who couldn't keep her mouth shut. We were loyal to the crown."
My father and I had this argument once a week, and I wasn't interested in rehashing it, "Well, what's done is done. Grieg is gone, and Rhys is in power. Once the country has stabilized, we can return and continue rebuilding."
Father snorted. "I give that boy one month before someone's dethroned him. He's got no backbone, no spine. Just like his mother."
"Actually, Korina's quite the formidable foe," I said. "And if he's anything like her, I think we'll all be surprised. Now, would you like to discuss the changes to the schedule or would you like to continue complaining about Kylae?"
Begrudgingly, he sat down and we got to business.
Rhys
It had been one day since my father was assassinated.
The riots of the previous night had ended with four dead, fifty hospitalized, and over seventy in jail. This morning, after sleeping a grand total of one hour, I took my first meeting with the chief of police where he both swore the prisoners were being taken care of, and at the same time, chided me on allowing the country to dissolve into chaos. I bit my tongue before reminding him that I'd inherited this entire mess, and let him berate me for an hour, for I had no solutions to offer him.
My second meeting of the day was with my counsel, who had the same old story as the previous night. They wanted Anson's head, my concerns about Jervan and Herin had fallen on deaf ears, and the rioters dead and dying in the hospital had gotten what they deserved.
"Because the punishment for rioting should be getting your head bashed in," I said.
"They chose to break the law."
And around and around we went.
Sometime around early afternoon, I left the squabbling council for the bathroom, but really I was in search of some peace and quiet. One thing was clear: council meetings were a waste of my time. They hadn't been beneficial when my father was...
Was alive.
That was still going to take some time getting used to.
Thinking of my father brought forth the reminder that I hadn't seen my brother nor my mother at the hospital. I kept making excuses: I needed to focus on the country, or there was another pointless meeting to attend, or it was too dangerous for me to leave the castle. All the excuses that I knew were just that...excuses.
But before I could dwell on that too much, I felt someone watching me. Spinning on my heel, I came face to face with a dark-skinned Raven woman, wearing the finest Kylaen business suit and heels that would've made Olivia jealous.
Emilie Mondra.
"My condolences on the loss of your father," she said. "And your brother."
"He's not dead yet," I said, hoping that was still the case. "What can I do for you, Ms. Mondra? Do you need help getting back to Rave?"
She cleared her throat. "I doubt anyone would welcome me back there just yet."
I couldn't argue her point. She'd been Bayard's media relations wizard, pulling the strings to make him look good, even as he was driving the country into the ground. Yet she lacked the desperation of a rat fleeing a sinking ship. My curiosity was piqued.
"So what can I do for you?" I asked again.
"I actually wanted to ask what I could do for you, Your Majesty," she said. "As you know, my specialty is in media relations, and you seem to need a bit of that right now."
"Do I?"
She was prepared, brandishing a newspaper and handing it to me. I couldn't hold in the grimace—no wonder I hadn't received the usual news with breakfast.
Country in Turmoil—Prince Rhys Unprepared to Lead?
"Well, that's just...fantastic."
"It's what happens in a vacuum," Emilie replied, pulling the paper away from me. "Without anything factual, they'll print the worst possible scenario, if only to sell more papers. And, unfortunately, your office hasn't been very forthcoming in handing out information recently."
"That's because there's no good information to give out," I said. "The country is in turmoil. Riots in Norose, Rave's still smoldering from the attack last week, and now I find out that Jervan and Herin are preparing to start the war my father wanted."
Emilie cleared her throat. "I propose that we not share any of that. We do have a story we need to capitalize on, tha
t I think might be distracting enough to keep the country together while you address all those tricky problems." She paused, before smiling. "Theo gave a rather impassioned speech at the wedding, don't you think?"
I shuddered. "Yeah."
"Let's remind the world that right now, her husband's life hangs in the balance," Emilie said. "We replay her speech—"
"No," I said with a fierce shake of my head. "I can't watch that again. Theo would...that would... We can't do that to her."
"It's precisely because it's difficult to watch that we need to make sure every person in the country has seen it. It's not just the visual, but her words. She stares at the man who nearly killed her husband and offers forgiveness. That's a powerful image, especially for a country eager for vengeance."
"I don't want to be the kind of king who uses people's pain for my own power," I said weakly. "That's who my father was, not who I am."
"Pardon my frankness, but if we don't do something, you won't be any kind of king."
I couldn't argue with that. "Fine, do what you have to. But please be...respectful of Theo. She's grieving right now. Don't ask her to do anything, and whatever you spin, please just..."
"I promise," Emilie said with a small bow. "I'll keep you informed of progress."
FOUR
Olivia
"He was human. He bled, he cried, he laughed...he loved... He loved me, even though everything in this world told us we couldn't be together. He saved my life after I'd tried to take his, simply because I was a fellow human being. He risked his neck and closed the prison at Mael. He was Kylaen, but he was good.
"And you killed him. For what? Because he and I looked past the history of his country so that mine could have a brighter future? Because I had the horrible misfortune to fall in love with the enemy, and with him tried to stop the war through words and reason, instead of violence?"
The Complete Madion War Trilogy Page 71