The Hidden King

by E G Radcliff

  Their father chuckled a rasping laugh. “Really? That’s new. But Boudicca, are you certain it wasn’t a young man?”

  “I’m not seeing anyone, Father.” And her footsteps tapped back into the kitchen.

  “Boudicca, dear,” her father cut in, his voice slightly raised to be heard in the kitchen, “May I use your bathroom?”

  Áed froze again, horrified. Ronan was still in the bath, no doubt keeping perfectly motionless the way Áed was doing at that moment, and Áed was occupying the other bathroom. There was nowhere to go.

  “Oh,” Boudicca’s voice came, more clearly now as she stepped out of the kitchen. “I’m afraid that they’re both malfunctioning. Something’s wrong with the pipes.”

  “That’s fine, dear, I only wish to wash my hands.”

  “None of that plumbing is working,” she said, and Áed was impressed by the steadiness of her voice. “But you could use the basin in the kitchen.”

  “The kitchen?” He scoffed. “My dear, I am a gentleman. I will try the bathroom, and if it’s broken, then I’ll resort to the kitchen sink.”

  Áed heard footsteps coming toward the bathrooms, and then Boudicca’s lighter ones hurried to stand in the way. “Please, Father, I assure you it’s broken. In fact, I’m afraid you could make it worse, so please don’t…”

  “Nonsense, child, I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  “It’s true, Father,” Cynwrig’s voice cut in smoothly.

  Their father was still for a moment, the floor creaking gently while Áed’s heartbeat hammered in his ears. “Right,” the man’s voice came slowly. “Now, is it my imagination, or are you keeping something from me?”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Boudicca said quickly.

  “Really,” her father said shrewdly. “Fine, then. I’ll not touch the sink. I only want to look in the mirror.”

  Boudicca sighed exasperatedly. “Why are you doing this? I’m hiding nothing.”

  There was a quiet tumult of footsteps, and then the heavier ones were directly outside the bathroom door. “Dear,” the voice came, almost jovially, “You can’t lie to me.”

  Áed put his hands behind his back and cast his eyes to the floor as the door opened, stepping back toward the far wall. There was a flustered huff from Boudicca and then a deep, gruff chuckle from the older man as footsteps approached. “My, my.” Boudicca’s father laughed knowingly. “Hiding nothing, Boudie?” Áed kept his eyes down as the man stepped into the room, but he couldn’t justify to himself why he was postponing the inevitable. Two bad hands and eyes like fire. This man would recognize him, and it was only a matter of time. “Hello, my boy,” the man said, addressing Áed. “I apologize for my daughter’s rudeness, that she didn’t introduce us immediately. My name is Elisedd, Master of the Northeastern Quarter, and Councilor of the King. What are you called?”

  “Áed,” he responded quietly, ignoring the man’s outstretched hand.

  “Come, shake my hand. And look me in the eye, for Gods’ sake, you aren’t a servant.” Elisedd turned back to Boudicca. “He’s not, is he?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so. Doesn’t stand like one.” He turned back to Áed. “Do you have a reason not to shake my hand, boy?”

  Áed, giving up, met Elisedd’s eyes. The man was bald with a silver beard, and wore rich clothing. Elisedd gasped, “Your eyes!” The man’s own yellow eyes sparked with growing interest. Áed reluctantly brought his hands around in reply to Boudicca’s defeated nod, and he thought the old man might faint as Elisedd reached for them, quivering with thrill. “Why… you… you…” He glanced to the ashen Boudicca, his face alight like a beacon. “Is it truly him?”

  Boudicca’s chin bobbed tersely.

  “My Gods!”

  “Please, Father, calm yourself,” Cynwrig said firmly.

  “Calm myself! For how long have you been sheltering him?”

  “Since I arrived in Suibhne,” Áed answered for himself.

  Elisedd’s jaw dropped. “Well! Well please, come into the kitchen! The tea is ready, surely, and we must talk…”

  “Father,” Boudicca interjected, and there was a drop of steel in her voice. “Please do not presume to entertain my guest in my home. Áed is a friend, and I’ll thank you not to begin your maneuvering before he’s even recovered from his time in the dungeon.”

  “Maneuvering? Boudicca, for shame! Áed, Your Grace, please don’t perceive me poorly on her account. I would offer counsel and nothing else, and certainly,” he added, casting a look at his daughter, “not before you are willing to be counseled.” He stopped short of bowing, but nodded respectfully. “Not to pry, Your Grace—”

  “Áed.”

  “Ah, forgive me. Not to pry, Áed, but I hear that you had a rather bloody time in the dungeons. Óengus…?”

  “That,” Áed said quietly, “is not your business.”

  “Absolutely correct, Áed, my humblest apologies.” This time he did bow, and Áed bit his lip to keep from snorting. “Now, would you please excuse my daughter’s forthright rudeness and have a cup of tea?” Without waiting for a response, he strode out of the bathroom.

  Áed was stunned. “Boudicca,” he murmured, “what is the matter with your father?”

  “Stepfather,” she corrected, shaking her head. “Be careful, Áed.” She glanced into the living area furtively, and then stepped into the bathroom to be out of her father’s line of sight. “Elisedd is self-motivated. Agree to nothing.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Áed sat carefully across the table from Elisedd, all too conscious that his back and arms lacked bandages. Perhaps removing them had been a mistake, for he felt vulnerable as Elisedd leaned back in his chair and scrutinized Áed unapologetically. “Tell me, Áed,” he said slowly. “You will take the throne, yes?”

  “I haven’t decided.”

  Elisedd nodded, keeping his eyes on Áed’s face. Áed resisted the urge to look away, and he forced himself to meet the older man’s eyes without wavering. “I advocated for you, you know. My fellow councilors didn’t want such an unknown quantity on the throne, but I was on your side from the beginning.”

  Áed didn’t answer, only met Elisedd’s gaze. The perceptive instinct in Áed’s chest swirled warningly, full of distaste. “What did you say your title was?”

  The man promptly recited that he was the Master of the Northeastern Quarter and Councilor of the King. “That’s a smart question, Your Grace,” he added. “As a young man, it’s not unreasonable to assume you might be in need of some guidance.” He smiled, flashing his teeth in the candlelight. “I have been the Master of the Northeastern Quarter since I was a no older than you, as was my father, and my father’s father before him. Seisyll appointed me to his Council, where I served him for twenty years. Always, my line has been loyal to the king.”

  “I’m not the king.”

  Elisedd waved him off. “You will be. My point stands that I am forever a loyal advisor to you. It would do me a great honor if you would accept my help. And, if I may be bold, I could be greatly beneficial to you as well.”

  Áed frowned as he regarded Elisedd thoughtfully. The man was pitching hard. “Elisedd,” he said slowly. “I take it that your position as Master of the Northeastern Quarter is hereditary?”

  “Why, yes, Your Grace. Áed.”

  “And your position as advisor to the king is subject to change.”

  The man bristled somewhat. “My family has served the crown for generations. It would be foolish to cast aside my services.”

  That left a decidedly threatening aftertaste in Áed’s mouth, and he knew with certainty that he wanted nothing to do with this man now or in the future. Still, he decided not to make an enemy so soon, and shook his head. “It’s just a question.”

  Elisedd relaxed a little into his chair, apparently chalking the query up to ignorance. “Yes, of course.” He leaned back, taking his teacup with him. “Tell me, what was it like in Smudge?”

&nb
sp; Áed allowed himself to be diverted. “Ghastly. Though perhaps fixable.”

  “Oh? And how is that?” Elisedd’s tone had just done something subtly unpleasant, had taken on an edge as if he was humoring Áed.

  Áed put his palms on the table and pushed himself up, finished with the conversation. He didn’t have to bother with this, had no capacity to bother with this. “Again, sir, that is not your concern.”

  Elisedd stood too, and set his cup on the table. “It is my concern, Áed. This kingdom is my concern.”

  Áed wasn’t sure from where the conviction came, but it didn’t matter. He leveled the man with a stare and didn’t move an inch. “No, Elisedd,” he corrected, automatically keeping his voice quiet and forcing Elisedd to exert himself to listen. “It’s mine.”

  Áed left his tea untouched and stalked off down the hallway, leaving Elisedd to recover.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  When Elisedd had gone, Cynwrig, Ronan, and Boudicca sat around the radial table. Áed found himself too uneasy to sit, and so he paced back and forth, glad that he could move painlessly enough to do that. He only stopped long enough to lean on the back of his empty chair and glance around the assembled faces. “Would someone please explain what that was?”

  Boudicca sighed, tipping her head back as Áed resumed pacing. “You just had the displeasure of meeting Elisedd, Cyn’s and my stepfather, who is thrilled at your youth and lack of experience and will do his best to use you as a puppet.” She raised her eyebrow at him in a way that said ‘though I don’t think he could.’ She laced her fingers on the table. “That’s why he went to such lengths to ensure the Council accepted you as the only lawful heir.”

  Strange conviction was still humming behind Áed’s breastbone. It had felt right, declaring the state of the Gut to be his concern, and that was both exhilarating and guilty. He could feel Ronan’s eyes on him as he stalked restlessly back and forth, but there had been a funny feeling of relief that had come when he’d spoken so surely, like he had made the right decision.

  Cynwrig had started talking. “Áed, I know the politics are complicated, but I would be cautious about rejecting Elisedd.”

  Áed sighed. “Why?” Based on Elisedd’s demeanor, he had a hunch, but he wanted the General’s opinion.

  “He’s a powerful man,” Cynwrig explained. “If you don’t keep him on your side, he’s influential enough to make things difficult for you.”

  “That’s unfortunate.” Áed turned his chair around and sat down in it, resting his arms on the back. He looked back and forth between icy and roseate eyes. “What’s his story?”

  Boudicca propped her wrists on the table. “Our father died when I was seven, and Elisedd married our mother. She passed soon after, and Cyn and I think Elisedd was pleased. Éamon—Elisedd’s son—was rising through the ranks, and Mother left an open position full of ties to the southern quarters of the city. Elisedd made Éamon take it.”

  Cynwrig nodded and finished his sister’s thought. “Elisedd likes power, but indirectly. He prefers to act through people. He gets others to do what he wants, always. When he wanted the Council to respect Seisyll’s orders and accept you as heir, the decision was made.”

  “There are a few more in the court who are a bit like him, though not as skilled,” Boudicca mused, and her brother agreed with a curt bob of his head.

  “Elders who like their comfort and are smart enough to get others to keep it for them, and young ones who see it as a way up.”

  “Leeches,” Boudicca added. “Growing fat off the power of the king. Each king selects his own court, which is why Elisedd was trying so hard to convince you that he was worthy.”

  For the first time in the conversation, Ronan spoke, folding his little hands on the table thoughtfully. “You’re all talking like Áed’s going to take the throne.”

  Áed pinched his bottom lip and stared at the pattern of the wood on the table. It made a twisting triplet of spirals that knotted where they merged, like the whole table was ready to spin.

  Ronan picked at his thumbnail. “If you did—and I don’t want you to—could you just get rid of everyone in the court and start over with people you like?”

  Cynwrig nodded slowly. “He could, but a move like that makes enemies.”

  “But if they aren’t in the court, what can they do about it?”

  “They’re still powerful men. More often than not, they have plenty of people living off their money, people whose their best interest is their master’s best interest.” Cynwrig paused to look at the faces around the table, then settled on Áed’s. “Even if you retired the advisors, their sons would hold grudges, and their sons’ sons. You’d turn family lines against the throne for generations.”

  It really was time to make a decision. Or rather, since Áed knew deep inside that he’d already made one, it was time to share it. He stopped pacing and leaned on the chair again, turned his attention to where Ronan was looking unhappily at the table. “Ronan, can I talk to you for a moment?” Ronan stood, and Áed nodded to Boudicca. “We’ll be right back.”

  Ronan followed him into the guest room, and the boy didn’t take his gaze away from his feet the entire time. When they were in the bedroom, Áed leaned on the doorframe and Ronan sat on the edge of the bed. “I know what you’re going to say,” Ronan mumbled.

  “What’s that?”

  Ronan looked up, emerald eyes dejected. “You’re going to take the throne. I know you are.”

  Running his tongue over the tops of teeth, Áed nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, ceann beag, I am.” He moved to the bed and sank down next to Ronan, who wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I wanted to tell you first.” Gently, he turned Ronan’s chin. “Hey. Look at me.”

  Unwillingly, Ronan did.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  Ronan frowned. “I thought it was obvious.”

  “What’s obvious is that you don’t want me to be king. Tell me more.”

  There had been a phase, back when Ronan had only four or five, when the boy had stopped talking. Neither Áed nor Ninian had been sure why, but when Ronan had started up again a few months later, they’d worked hard on his communication. Even so, and even years later, times still arose when Ronan couldn’t seem to say what he wanted. This was one of those times. His mouth pressed into a line, and he sat in frustrated silence.

  Áed thought for a moment. Sometimes, open-ended questions like ‘tell me what you’re thinking’ helped to get Ronan’s thoughts flowing, but sometimes, they were too hard to parse. “Can you tell me what you think would be different if I was king, and why you wouldn’t like it?”

  Ronan nodded, and Áed knew he’d asked the right question. “It’s not what I wanted when we came. That’s what it is. I thought we were going to find somewhere quiet. I like it here with Boudicca, because it is quiet, but if you’re king, then you’ll be busy all the time. It’ll be so different.”

  There, that was it. Ronan had gotten it out, and Áed understood. He drew Ronan close, for a moment forgetting to mind his injuries. The echo of pain, masked by Boudicca’s medicine, didn’t distract him. “I know what you mean, ceann beag. We were supposed to have time to grieve, to rebuild, right? And you think if I’m king, I won’t pay you attention.”

  Tentatively, Ronan nodded, and Áed pressed his forehead to the top of the boy’s head. Ronan’s thick, damp hair smelled like Boudicca’s soap.

  “Ronan,” Áed said softly. “I would never let that happen.” He squeezed the boy’s shoulders. “We still have time here, as much time as we want. Let’s take it. And Ronan?”

  Ronan blinked at him.

  “You are my priority. Not a thing in the world can change that.”

  The boy relaxed a little under Áed’s arm.

  “If you have anything else on your mind, ceann beag, you can tell me.”

  Ronan shook his head, and Áed knew that was all.

  The weight of worry lifted considerably from his chest, which made hi
m sigh with relief. “Can we go tell Boudicca and Cynwrig, then?”

  The boy seemed to appreciate being asked permission, because he sat up a little straighter. “I guess.”

  Together, they went back to the radial table, where, once again, Áed didn’t sit. Ronan stayed close to him, brushing against his legs, and Áed dropped a hand to the boy’s shoulder. “Ronan?” he said. “Do you want to tell them?”

  Ronan took a look at the General’s cold eyes and Boudicca’s warm, curious ones and shook his head.

  “Alright.” Áed felt Ronan lean on him. “Well, Ronan and I have talked.” Cynwrig raised a skeptical eyebrow, and Áed leveled a glare at him. “Ronan cannot be excluded from this. We have talked, and we’ve come to a conclusion.”

  “And what have you concluded?” Boudicca had spoken, and her voice told Áed that she already knew.

  “I will accept the throne.” Cynwrig slumped ever so slightly, and it was Áed’s turn to note the motion with the flick of an eyebrow. “The fact is, I’ve waited all my life for the chance to do something good. And maybe, to some extent, I have.” He brushed Ronan’s long bangs out of the boy’s little face. “But now, this chance… I can’t pass it up.”

  Cynwrig still looked faintly disappointed, but Boudicca was nodding. “Áed,” she said, “It’s good that you’re sure, but please know that there’s still no reason to rush.”

  “I know,” he replied. “I don’t want to hurry. I think Ronan and I both need some time to get back on our feet.”

  Boudicca stood and wrapped her arms softly around both of them. “Take all the time you need.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Six weeks.

  In six weeks, everything was in motion.

  After six weeks, Ronan’s hollow frame had filled out so that his ribs were no longer prominent enough to feel when Áed hugged him. His eyes were bright and his cheeks were rosy. More often than not, his boyish chatter filled the flat; when it didn’t, it meant he was most likely studying Boudicca’s books with intense curiosity.