by H. L. Burke
“I don’t blame him,” Arynne mumbled.
Olyn gave a bitter laugh. “Neither do I.”
She glanced up at him. He seemed to care for Kay. “Why is your father like that? Kay’s his son, but even without that basic human instinct to care for one’s children, Kay is a good man, capable, intelligent. Why berate him for things out of his control? Why treat him like ... like he’s nothing?”
Olyn let out a long breath and paused. “It’s complicated. My father is a hard man, and while Kay has his good points, he also has his flaws. Tends to be impulsive, lacks self-control.”
“But is that the reason your father hates him? Or is the fact that his father seemingly hates him maybe the reason Kay doesn’t bother to be any better?” Arynne narrowed her eyes at Olyn.
He blinked. “You’re perceptive.” He motioned for her to follow him, then continued to walk down the hall. At the end of the passage, they stopped in front of a wooden door with a leaping deer carved into the paneling. “I am not sure how magic works in Solea, but in Frorheim it can be inherited from both the maternal and paternal side of your family.” He pushed open the door.
She nodded. “Kay mentioned that. You’re a starcaster from your father’s side and a traveler from your mother’s?”
“Yes, and my father is a starcaster, but also a seer.” He flicked his hand towards a small starshard on a stand of twisted metal and it brightened, revealing a small sitting room with a stone fireplace—filled with logs but unlit—a white bearskin rug, two comfortable looking chairs, and a shelf of books. Two doorways opened off this room, one to the left and the other the right. “Sit down while I light the fire, then we can continue our talk.” He waved towards one of the chairs.
Arynne instead brushed past him and held her hand over the logs. Her fire sprang from her fingers, and the wood burst aflame.
Olyn staggered back a step, then goggled at her.
“I have magic too.” She grinned, exhibiting her hand, flames still dancing within her palm.
He whistled. “Impressive. We don’t have ... firecasters? Is that what you call them? Either way, it’s not a magic found in Frorheim.”
“We don’t really classify our magic.” She shrugged and settled into the chair closest to the fire. “It doesn’t run in families the way it does here. Just sort of pops up randomly in maybe one out of every ten or so births and manifests in various ways.”
“That might change.” He took the chair opposite her and leaned closer. “Historians have theorized that the reason magic has such a strong hold in our families is the proximity to the starshards. They suspect it activates latent magic in our blood.”
“So my children might actually inherit my magic?” She gazed down at her hands. She hadn’t considered that.
“Yes, but we’ve gone off the subject of my brother.” He stared into the fire for a long moment, sobriety chasing the light from his eyes. “Kay is younger than me by two starcycles. Did he tell you about my family’s rules regarding the bloodline?”
“Yes, he did, and also that he was supposed to be a girl to preserve those rules.”
“And about my father’s brother? The sorcerer Athan?” He arched an eyebrow.
She nodded. “And about the prophecy that he’d return and that’s why you needed a Solean princess.”
“Good. That saves some time for me.” He tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. “When Kay was born, a boy in spite of all magical efforts to the contrary, my father panicked. He saw a potential reflection of the brother who had nearly cost him the kingdom. Being a seer, he tried to scry Kay’s fate.” The wrinkles around his eyes deepened. “Seeing is not like mending or starcasting. It has more in common with casting a net than shooting an arrow, if you get my meaning.”
“Inexact?” She frowned.
“Exactly. Especially when dealing with a life as fresh on its journey as a newborn. Futures can change. Fate is strong, yes, but humans are not without choice as to which path we take. Still, my father said he saw a probable future—a strong shadow, he called it—where Kay became a gateway for Athan’s return and where Kay was surrounded in shadow and darkness. He took this to mean that Kay, like Athan, would be a source of strife and destruction in this kingdom.”
“But he’s not!” Arynne gripped the arms of her chair, wanting to leap to her feet. “And he’s fiercely loyal to you.” To the point where he’d reject her advances rather than betray his brother. The thought soured her mood, and she settled into the cushions, avoiding Olyn’s eyes.
“I know that, and you know that, but Father—well, since then he’s taken every minor mistake Kay has made in his life, every word spoken out of turn, every display of temper or impatience, as a sign that he’s going down the inevitable bad path. He would’ve killed him, if not for the laws of our land not allowing prophecy as a cause for condemnation. When Kay was a newborn, the rumor is my father tried, but my mother, a traveler, used her magic to keep Kay out of his reach. Fresh from the birthing room, she appeared before my father’s council—a group of noblemen and women who have great sway in the government of Frorheim, even to the point of being able to moderate my father’s behavior—and entrusted them with the care of Kajik. Even a king is not beyond the laws of our land, and the murder of an infant, no matter what prophecies surround that infant’s birth, is an unforgivable deed.”
“So she saved Kay?” Arynne tried to remember what Kay had said about the queen’s death. She couldn’t have lived long after the birth. “Do you mind if I ask what happened to her?”
Olyn’s face pinched.
“You don’t have to tell me anything!” Arynne quickly added. “I know it must be painful. I’m just trying to understand how your family fits together.”
“Considering you came here to join our family, that’s more than reasonable.” He forced a smile, though pain still edged his voice. “They called it bloodfever, an infection developed after childbirth, though I don’t think the use of her magic when she was in a weakened state would’ve helped anything. I don’t remember her, not really, but I’ve been told she never regained her strength and passed away a within the mooncycle.”
Arynne’s chest tightened. “She died to save him?”
“I wish Kay saw it that way.” Olyn shook his head ruefully. “I think the only part of the story he ever took to heart was Father’s assertion that she died because of Kay.”
Tears smarted Arynne’s eyes. The pain she’d so often sensed beneath Kay’s flippancy made so much more sense now. Had she only added to that? Olyn obviously loved his brother a great deal, and she’d attempted to come between them.
“Do you think he’s all right?” She stood from her chair. “Can I help you look for him?”
Olyn rose. “You just went through an ordeal, Arynne. You should rest. I’ll be able to travel easier from point to point looking for Kay on my own anyway. How about I send up a servant to draw you a bath? We expected you to arrive with servants of your own, and with no women in our immediate family, we don’t employ lady’s maids, but I’m sure I can find someone to help you. Also a good meal?”
Her stomach grumbled, but she needed to be sure Kay was all right before she saw to her own comfort. “You promise you’ll go look for Kay?”
He tilted his head. “He means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”
Blushing, she dropped her gaze. She didn’t want to come between the brothers. Best if Olyn didn’t know how she felt about Kay. Still, there were things she could say near the truth without revealing the whole.
“After the avalanche, it was just the two of us. I was terrified, and he protected me. He kept me safe and calm. He kept me going when I wanted to give up. He’s the only friend I have here, so yes, he means a great deal to me.” She reached out and touched Olyn’s arm. “I will accept your offer of hospitality, but only if you promise you’ll find Kay. He nearly killed himself to get me here safely, and he needs as much care as I do.”
A warm smile lit Olyn’s fac
e. “Kay chose well. Yes, I promise I’ll find him. I have an idea where he might be.”
Chapter Nineteen
Kay liked taverns. He liked the noise, laughter and talk, sometimes music. He liked how no one in this world saw him as the king’s accident ... and of course, he liked to drink.
Normally he’d swagger up to the bar, scan the room for familiar faces, pay for a round, and gather a crowd about him. Not now. This time he’d chosen the darkest corner and melted into it. He downed two tumblers in quick succession before the ache in his chest numbed slightly. The third pour emptied out the bottle he’d ordered, so he sat sipping to keep his blurriness maintained while soaking in the chatter and chuckles rising off the other, happier patrons like soothing music.
The liquor wasn’t enough to kill the memories, and with his guard lowered, he sank into them.
Arynne ...
He’d come here specifically to forget, but instead of erasing her like he’d hoped, the alcohol chose all his favorite memories to play before him like the chorus of a song. Her smile as they glided over the snow. Her ferocity in the face of challenge. Her lips against his for that precious moment before he’d pulled away and faced reality.
What had he been thinking?
His mission as stated by his father had been to pick any Solean woman of proper rank and age, but at heart it had been Olyn’s plea he’d listened to.
“If I can’t pick my own bride, you are the only one I trust to choose for me. You won’t get caught up in politics, and you know me well enough to understand what I’d want in a companion. Beautiful would be nice, but also kind, strong—she’ll have to be to live in the same palace as Father without shriveling to dust—also, not too proud to laugh.”
And Arynne had met all the requirements. Maybe too well.
He’d been so proud of himself, presenting Olyn with the perfect bride, one any man would be delighted to wed. He’d realized too late that “any man” included himself.
If Olyn found out—
Shame gripped Kay by the throat. His only meaningful connection left—having lost Ivak and his closest friends—was Olyn. The brother who had stood up for him, protected him, comforted him when everything else in the world seemed all too eager to grind Kay into the dirt. How could Kay have betrayed his trust? He was at Arynne’s mercy. If she told what happened, if she refused to marry Olyn because of Kay, Olyn would never forgive him. His heart pounded in his ears, and he feared he would be sick.
No.
It won’t happen.
He took a sip to calm himself, savoring the honeyed notes of the liquor.
Arynne would see Olyn was the better catch in time. Olyn was kind but more importantly, he was reliable, something Kay could not say about himself. Still, to watch her realize this, to see himself fade from her beloved savior to himself in her eyes, it would be like death.
She’d called him capable, brave, intelligent. All things he longed to be but life and the judgment of others had repeatedly denied that he was. Even though he treasured that she thought of him that way, when held up to the shining standard that was Olyn, it wouldn’t last. Kay was a piece of dull glass to Olyn’s starshard. Whatever she’d seen in Kay, it wouldn’t be enough to keep her from loving the better prince—the better man.
The constant rumble of conversation died to a whisper, drawing Kay’s gaze from his drink. Olyn stood in the doorway to the common room, his court clothes and dignified demeanor making him stick out like a comet in the dark sky. Even if his face hadn’t been known to most of the populace, it would’ve been obvious to any regular that he didn’t belong there among drunk scoundrels and carousing rabble.
Kay considered traveling away. He didn’t want to face Olyn, didn’t want to talk about their father’s latest outburst—or Arynne. Specifically not Arynne. Before he could decide, Olyn’s gaze fell on him, his eyes lighting up with recognition.
Kay winced. If he traveled now, Olyn would wonder why he was avoiding him. Best to put a brave face on it. It wasn’t as if he could hide from his family forever.
He waved Olyn over. The crowd parted, giving Olyn a wide berth to pass through, far more than needed. Displeasure wrinkled Olyn’s face. Only Kay really knew how much the crown prince hated the separation between him and every other human in Frorheim besides his father and brother. As strong as Olyn was, he was also lonely. A fact Kay had hoped Arynne would remedy.
Olyn settled across from Kay and reached for the bottle. “Mind if we share?” He picked up the bottle and immediately frowned. Tipping it upside down, his eyes widened at the single drop that dribbled out. “A whole bottle, Kay? Already?”
Kay waved dismissively. “You want to drink out of my share, you need to get here faster.” He sipped from his tumbler, avoiding Olyn’s disappointed stare. “Arynne get settled all right?” he asked even though he knew whatever the answer was it would be a knife twisting in his heart.
“I think so. Sounds like you two had a rough trip—to say the least.” Olyn gave a half-hearted laugh before his tone grew grave. “I’m sorry about Ivak. I know you two were close.”
“We were.”
“He was a good man. Deserved a better end.”
“Well, life and death aren’t exactly decided by merit.” Kay laughed wryly.
They fell into an awkward silence, though Olyn’s keen eyes never left Kay. When a barmaid passed, Olyn requested a mug of mead, but having received it, he just turned it slowly in his hands rather than drink. Kay continued to slowly sample his own beverage.
Finally Olyn cleared his throat. “Are you coming home with me this dimming?”
“Was thinking maybe I’d stay at the training barracks.” Plenty of empty beds there, thanks to the sudden loss of five of their best men.
“I really wish you’d stay at your room in the palace instead.”
“Why? So I’m within reach the next time Father needs an easy target?” Kay scoffed.
“No. So you’ll be near me ... and Arynne.”
Kay stiffened. “What does Arynne have to do with any of this?”
“She thinks the world of you, and she’s worried about you. The way Father treated you took her by surprise, shook her up quite a bit.” Olyn took a long draft of his mead then wiped his beard with the back of his hand. “She wants to be sure you’re safe. I don’t think she’ll rest unless she knows you’re seen to.”
“She doesn’t need to worry about me.” Kay concentrated on the tabletop.
“That’s kind of what people who care about other people do.” Olyn smiled.
Kay flinched. He didn’t want Arynne to care about him. He wanted to disappear out of her life like the fog from her exhale. He wanted her to slip into a happy life with Olyn and never think about him again. Of course, it couldn’t be that easy. He should’ve told her the truth about who he was from the start, promise to Father be damned. However, it had seemed like an inconsequential thing, being the brother of her future husband, hardly something she needed to know. How could he have known she’d come to a conclusion that was somehow close to the truth but still so terribly wrong? He should’ve guarded himself against attachment to her, been more standoffish, less ... stupid. Why did he always mess up everything?
“Hey, you all right?” Olyn reached across the table and grasped Kay’s wrist. “You look about as glum as a cat-owl without mice.”
“I ... I just sometimes wonder if Father is right. Maybe my whole life is a mistake. Maybe the world would be better if ... I wasn’t.” Kay shut his eyes, trying to push away the dark voices heckling him, the memories of his father’s disapproval, of his failure to save Ivak and the others, of the stricken look in Arynne’s eyes when he told her who he was.
“Hey!” Olyn’s tone sharpened. “Kay, look at me.”
Kay’s head spun as the alcohol settled in for the dimming and made itself at home. He blinked several times and found Olyn hovering over him like a riled mother snowbear. He tried to push Olyn away, but his brother stepped around
the table and pulled him to his feet. Kay grabbed the wall to keep from stumbling over.
“Kay, listen, I don’t believe there’s a human being in this frozen wasteland that the Ever didn’t fully intend to put here and have a purpose for, and that includes you, but general concepts of individual value aside, you’re my brother. I love you, and I will not let you think you aren’t wanted.”
“The whole kingdom would seem to disagree with you on that. Father especially.” Kay swallowed hard, fighting a sudden excess of saliva that sought to choke him—or gag him. The room heaved like a ship’s deck during a storm.
“Father’s wrong about that, about you. I want you, and so does Arynne.”
Kay’s stomach twisted, for a moment worried Arynne had told about their ... whatever it was that had happened out there in the snow.
“She told me what a good friend you were to her, how you risked your life to keep her alive, how you wouldn’t let her quit no matter how hopeless it seemed.” Olyn placed his hand on his brother’s temple, inspecting his face. “Do you need to throw up?”
Kay clamped his mouth shut but managed a quick nod. Olyn tossed a coin on the table then gripped Kay’s arm and traveled them both into the alley behind the tavern. Kay fell to his knees and heaved out his last meal plus a whole bottle of goldbird label honey wine.
Olyn stood over him, waiting patiently as Kay emptied his stomach. Once there was nothing left to expel, Kay sat, spitting bile to try to cleanse his mouth of the foul taste, wallowing in his own shame.
“Can we go home now?” Olyn asked, pulling Kay to his feet again.
Kay groaned. “Do you really think that’s a good idea? With Father—”
“Father doesn’t care if you sleep at the palace. Besides, you just got from a long journey. You deserve a rest in your own bed, near people who care about you.”