The Hidden King

by E G Radcliff

  He took it all in with a quick nod and looked away. “Right. Next one.”

  Boudicca regarded him with concern, pausing with the scissors still in hand. “What is it doing to you to see this?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  A vertical crease formed between her brows, enough to let Áed know that she would persist. “The truth.”

  He blinked. “The truth?” She nodded gently, and he swallowed. “I wish my body were as numb as my mind right now.

  Her reply was silence, but she squeezed his hand. As she gingerly pulled away the second bandage, she sighed heavily. “Same thing. Gods, it’s so detailed.”

  Áed choked as the remark erased the flat around him, and for a moment, he was back in Óengus’s chamber, bucking against the bonds. Boudicca put a concerned hand out to steady him, and Ronan started forward as Áed’s face contorted, and Áed bowed his head so they wouldn’t see the distress on his face. Fear flooded him, ebbed too slowly, and left his skin tingling.

  “Áed!”

  He took a shaky breath and looked up. Boudicca’s eyes were round, and Ronan had covered his mouth with his small hand. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  “Are you alright? What just happened?”

  “Nothing. I’m sorry, I’m fine.” He’d already blacked out when the torturer had tattooed his arms, and the memory of pain dragging him down into darkness echoed still in his wounds.

  Boudicca closed her eyes for a moment, exhaling steadily through her pursed lips. “Let me redress your back and arms, and then we’ll figure out what to do.” She stood, gaze still fixed on Áed. “This was the work of Óengus, wasn’t it?” When Áed couldn’t answer, she went on. “Cynwrig’s told me about him. I recognize this from his descriptions, this is what Óengus does. That’s what happened to you.”

  Áed nodded. He felt a little ill somewhere deep in his desensitized mind. “This marks me as a criminal.”

  “You’re not,” Ronan murmured. As Boudicca slipped into the kitchen, the boy knelt down next to Áed, and his green eyes roved over the face of his guardian. “Áed, I was so scared. They dragged you away, and we didn’t know where you were.”

  “I was in the dungeon,” Áed said quietly. “Ronan, I can’t explain how relieved I am that you were never there.”

  Ronan scooted a little closer, but he was careful not to touch Áed’s tattoos. “How did you get out?”

  Áed squeezed his eyes shut, remembering the endless stairs and the suffocating certainty that he’d never reach the top. He remembered Judoc’s fear, and though he didn’t blame the old man for distrusting him after seeing his fire, being called ‘that creature’ stung harshly. He remembered the feeling of the guard’s clammy skin slipping out from under his crooked palms and the impact of the floor as his knees buckled. “It doesn’t matter, ceann beag. I’m out.”

  “Did you…” he bit his lip. “Did you have to kill anyone else?”

  Áed shook his head. “No, I didn’t kill anyone else.” How he wished he could wipe the memory of Morcant’s demise from Ronan’s mind. “I never meant to kill Morcant, you know that, and I never want to hurt anybody again.” Singeing the guard’s neck a little didn’t count; he’d done no real damage.

  “What about—” Ronan made a little gasp. “A thiarcais, you don’t know.”

  “Know what?”

  “Seisyll.”

  The king. Áed had badly burned him, that was sure, but… “What about him, Ronan?”

  The boy looked away. “He’s dead.”

  “No.”

  Ronan nodded reluctantly. “He died three days after.” He didn’t finish, but they both knew after what.

  Áed closed his eyes and pressed his thumbs into them. He wanted to ask if Ronan was serious, but he knew that the boy wouldn’t lie, not like that. Áed hadn’t been able to stop it when the fire had come and had pushed Seisyll away automatically. And now the man was dead.

  Boudicca emerged from the kitchen with a tray of bottles, and Ronan looked up at her, chewing on his lip. “I told him Seisyll’s dead. I don’t think I should’ve.”

  With a quiet exhalation, Boudicca set the tray down. “That might have been a little much, Ronan.”

  The boy looked at his feet guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

  “Hey,” Áed said, and Ronan looked to him. “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who…” His voice stopped in his throat, and he covered his face. “I can’t even say it.”

  Boudicca selected a couple of bottles. “Áed, here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to patch you up, and then you’re going to eat some more, and then you’re going to sleep. We aren’t going to talk about Seisyll. Alright?”

  Whether or not he agreed, Áed knew better than to argue. He was weary to the centers of his flayed bones.

  “And then,” Boudicca added, “Cynwrig will come over, and he’ll tell you a little more than I can.”

  “Sorry,” Áed said. “Did you say Cynwrig will come over?” Seeing the General again was something Áed wanted to avoid.

  Boudicca nodded. “Don’t worry. You’re safe, and he’ll not touch you.”

  “How can you promise that?”

  She hesitated. “He has no reason to bother you,” she said finally. “You can trust me. You’re safe, you and Ronan both.”

  Áed did trust her. Beyond that, his exhaustion filled him too deeply to delve into the issue, and his whole body was relaxing as Boudicca, whispering unfamiliar words, dabbed salve on his wounds. Boudicca pressed both of her palms onto Áed’s back, keeping the rhythm of her quiet chant, and Áed felt the pain ebbing away.

  He couldn’t decide any more. He would do what Boudicca said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Three brisk knocks on the door heralded Cynwrig’s arrival, and Boudicca swished over to answer. Áed, who had been sleeping, sat up slowly on the couch, and apprehension dripped into his veins like ice water.

  The General’s presence filled the room with purpose, as if his confidence could change the very air, and Boudicca moved aside to let him in. Áed was torn between standing to lessen his height difference and sitting because he ached all over, and decided to stay seated. The dread that rushed through him made his heart beat fast, though it surely would soon be meaningless.

  To his surprise, Cynwrig’s expression flickered when he saw Áed on the couch, and Áed couldn’t tell if it was pity or disgust. Whatever it was, it made the General’s face looked less hostile, but then it fell back into its strict calm.

  Boudicca closed the door with a click and folded her hands in front of her. “Áed, Cynwrig is going to be very civil.” She turned to her brother. “Isn’t that right, Cyn?”

  Cynwrig raised an eyebrow but nodded.

  They sat around the radial table, Áed carefully leaning away from the back of his chair, and the General folded his hands on the patterned wood and regarded Áed thoughtfully. “So,” he said. “You’re out.”

  Áed nodded.

  “Did someone release you?”

  “I did.” He leaned forward and matched Cynwrig’s pose, except that it was too hard to intertwine his fingers like the General had. They ought to get right to it, he thought: no use postponing the inevitable. “Ronan just told me a few hours ago what’s happened.” Cynwrig’s icy eyes flicked between Áed’s shifting red ones, and Áed swallowed. “Boudicca says that you won’t arrest me, so…” He glanced to Ronan, wishing the boy couldn’t hear. “Without arresting me, I can only imagine that the justice is to be immediate.”

  Cynwrig pressed his lips together before he spoke. “It would be.”

  Áed maintained eye contact. “Please,” he said. He didn’t have much of a fight to put up, but he would have to try, and it would be messy. Even with his fire, the General probably wouldn’t have too much difficulty slaying him where he stood. “Not in front of Ronan.”

  But there was
no creaking of chairs, and Cynwrig didn’t stand. “Áed, I’m not here to kill you.”

  Áed didn’t allow himself relief. “Then why are you here?” He pushed his hair back, stared at the ceiling. “The king is dead. Why are you here?”

  Very patiently, Cynwrig let out his breath. “From what I understand, you didn’t act with malice.”

  “That matters?”

  The General only shrugged, casting a glance at Boudicca. His sister shook her head minutely. “There are extenuating circumstances,” Cynwrig said evenly. “And several things we need to address.” He leaned forward. “Firstly: You summoned fire to your hands. How?”

  Áed, obeying his deep instincts as he looked over the General’s face, decided to play dumb. “What?”

  “King Seisyll said that you brought fire to your hands and attacked him.”

  Áed shook his head. “That’s… no. Seisyll was wearing a long cloak, and there were burning torches all around the edges of the hall.”

  The General scrutinized Áed’s face, but he couldn’t discern the lie. “That is plausible.”

  Áed leaned carefully forward. “I still don’t understand what’s going on. What ‘extenuating circumstances’?”

  Boudicca’s lips were flat against each other, but she said nothing while Cynwrig’s forehead crinkled. He was young yet, but Áed could see the crease in his brow from years of forming that expression. He ignored Áed’s question. “I understand, too, that you tried to extinguish the flames.”

  Too late, yes. “I tried.”

  Cynwrig nodded. “It is as I said. I am here to neither arrest you nor put you to death. But the facts remain that the king is dead, you have escaped from prison, and the August Guard is maintaining order.”

  “I still don’t understand why you’re telling me this.”

  Again, Boudicca shook her head subtly, and Áed narrowed his eyes.

  “What aren’t you telling me, then?”

  “Áed,” Boudicca said. “You’ve been in prison nearly a week, and you’ve been tortured badly. On top of that, your escape left you in such a way that if you weren’t—” she stopped herself short and took a deep breath. “I’m just saying that a different person might not have lived. There’s nothing so important that it needs to be said right now.” She nodded at Cynwrig. “My brother is here to assure you that you are safe and to provide a few details about the current circumstances. This done, he’ll leave.”

  She was convincing, but not quite enough. Áed shook his head. “There’s something else. You’ve been looking at me strangely.”

  “No,” she said. “Why shouldn’t I look at you strangely? You’re a wreck, Áed.”

  “Please,” he said. “Just tell me what it is.”

  Next to him, Ronan was furiously chewing on his lip, his little face ever so slightly pink, and Áed sensed a weakness. He knew very well the boy’s inability to keep secrets, and clearly Ronan was in on it.

  “Ronan?” he asked, and Boudicca groaned softly. “What aren’t they telling me?”

  The boy’s enormous green eyes flicked desperately to Boudicca, who, a beat too late, shook her head. “Nothing important, Áed, I swear it.”

  Ronan blinked three or four times, fast, and Áed sensed he was getting close.

  “It’s okay, ceann beag. You can tell me.”

  The boy took a deep breath, and Boudicca tensed. “Boudicca said not to tell you until you felt better.”

  That was suspicious. “Tell me what?”

  He could see Ronan cracking under the pressure and waited a moment, just looking at him.

  It was enough.

  Speaking all at once as his color suddenly faded, Ronan blurted, “Seisyll named you heir.”

  The blood drained from Áed’s face, and he forgot how to breathe for a moment. Boudicca threw up her hands as Ronan pressed his fist to his mouth, curling his knees to his chest remorsefully. Áed shook his head. “What?”

  Cynwrig nodded with some chagrin. “That is the truth.”

  Áed gaped at the General, actually glad that the man disliked him enough to be honest. “How?”

  “It happened,” Cynwrig said blandly as his sister glared at him, “that the late King Seisyll claimed you as his son.”

  “Why?” Áed demanded, stunned. “I set—he thought I set him on fire!”

  “That is exactly why,” Cynwrig replied. He took a deep breath. “Seisyll’s mental state was never completely balanced. Did he show you the burn on his arm?”

  Áed nodded mutely.

  “He says he received that from a woman in Smudge on one of his outings.”

  Something clicked in Áed’s head, and his mouth fell open. I have seen your eyes before, Seisyll had boasted. Full of fear and fire. In Áed’s memory, the king’s mouth slid into an uneven smile. I didn’t realize you would come of it. I always wanted this…

  “Oh, Gods,” Áed mouthed.

  The General sighed heavily. “He believes you to be his son by a woman he raped in Smudge some seventeen years ago. He’s always been desperate for his own blood on the throne. The Council of the King was ready to overturn Seisyll’s ruling after the king’s death, but their minds were, unfortunately, changed.” He cracked his knuckles bitterly, pressing on each joint with his thumb. “So instead of a more qualified candidate, we have you. Cadeyrn, however, refused to reveal where you were. He should have executed and disposed of you, so I suppose he thought he was protecting his position if we couldn’t prove that he hadn’t.” Finally, the General cracked his thumbs, and Áed cringed. “Which is why nobody came for you.”

  Áed’s head was a swirl. “This is unbelievable.”

  Boudicca rubbed at the inner corners of her eyes. “Great job, everybody. Áed, you do not have to think about this right now. The August Guard is keeping order, and there isn’t any haste.”

  “I’m assigning a guard to the apartment,” Cynwrig said. “Haste or no, you are the heir to the throne, and those who don’t approve can be dangerous.” Áed couldn’t tell whether or not the General included himself with those people. Perhaps it was only his discipline that kept him from offing Áed there and then. “For now, I’m staying the night.”

  Groaning, Áed stood. Boudicca’s medicine and magic masked much of the pain, making a distant corner of his mind marvel gratefully. “Boudicca, I know it’s a lot to ask since you’ve done so much, but could I stay the night again?”

  “Of course you can. The guest room is practically yours and Ronan’s now.”

  He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to sleep with everything whirling around in his head, but the thought of the wide, soft bed with its smooth sheets and warm quilt sent a tremor of anticipation through his body. “Thank you for everything, Boudicca. And Cynwrig…” Guilt rolled over him, whether Seisyll deserved his remorse or not. “I am sorry about what happened. For whatever that’s worth.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Áed made his way to the bathroom while Ronan settled down to bed. He still hadn’t had a chance to clean the dungeon’s grit and sweat off of himself, and he didn’t even think that he’d be able to close his eyes before he cleared the last of the foulness off of his skin. He took his time, carefully cleansing the residue from every pore and fingernail.

  His footsteps were quiet as he shuffled to the guest room, feeling ever so slightly improved. The candle on the chest of drawers bathed the bedroom in warm light, the window-curtains hung limply, and Áed’s letter was folded on the dresser. Áed could hear the boy in the closet, shuffling around, and his head popped around the corner as Áed closed the door quietly. Áed noticed that he had a new fullness in his cheeks that replaced the gauntness that had lurked there before, and his dimples were a little deeper as his little face broke into a timid smile. “Hi, Áed.”

  “Hey, mate.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, and Ronan tossed him some clean clothes before disappearing back into the closet to give him some privacy while he put them on.

  “Um,” Ronan’s v
oice came from the closet, and he emerged and plopped himself onto the bed. He swallowed, glancing down at the quilt and fidgeting with a crease in the colorful fabric. “I don’t know if it’ll hurt too much, but, uh…” He looked up abashedly, his green eyes not meeting Áed’s. Rather, they took in the rest of him, skimming over the bandages, his arms, his hair. “I haven’t really hugged you yet.”

  Áed blinked as Ronan looked down. “Aw, mate.” The genuineness melted him completely. “Of course.”

  Ronan turned and buried himself in Áed’s arms, pressing his cheek into the crook of Áed’s shoulder and neck. It was clear that he was trying to be gentle, but Áed still had to suppress a wince as Ronan wrapped his arms carefully around Áed’s back and curled his knees up the way he always had when he was little. In the stillness of the room, Áed thought he could feel the boy trembling. “I missed you,” Ronan mumbled, his face still buried in Áed’s shoulder.

  “I missed you too, ceann beag,” Áed murmured, rubbing little circles on Ronan’s back and looking up to the cream-colored ceiling. “So much.” The boy’s warmth was filling, and his weight comforting.

  Ronan sniffed, and Áed realized that the slight trembling was that of a boy holding back tears. A drop of moisture fell onto his neck, and Ronan buried closer. “I didn’t know what was happening to you, and I was so scared.”

  “I know,” Áed murmured, still rubbing Ronan’s back soothingly. The role was familiar, even if the circumstances were not—comforting Ronan was, and always had been, his job. “I’m here now. Not going anywhere.”

  Ronan squeezed him tighter for a moment, making Áed flinch, and the boy eased his grip. “I want you to be okay.”

  “I will be, ceann beag. I’m not right now, but I will be. I promise.” He pulled back as Ronan sighed, and Áed scrutinized the boy’s face carefully. “I’m still worried about you, though.”