by H. L. Burke
“I can believe that.” Arynne’s jaw clenched, remembering how Evyd had treated Kay, right in front of her. “Kay deserves a better father.”
Sigid blenched. “Well, I wouldn’t say that where King Evyd could hear you if I were you, but I also wouldn’t disagree with you.”
Arynne sat in front of the mirror, barely feeling the tugs as Sigid unmatted her hair with the comb. Sigid’s advice was wise, but it would be hard for Arynne to keep her mouth shut if she saw that monster laying into Kay again. No, she’d risk his wrath if it meant protecting Kay. With all he’d endured on her behalf, Kay deserved no less.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Kay drifted on a stormy sea, queasy and anxious even as he slept. He spent most of the dimming in a restless half-consciousness, aware of his ragged nerves, his nausea and growing headache, but also the blankets over his body and the pillow beneath his head. As miserable as this was, however, it was better than the dreams that assaulted him every time he fell into a deeper sleep.
A wall of snow would rush towards him and Arynne, his magic refusing to work, unable to save her or himself as they were swallowed up by cold, unforgiving whiteness. He’d jerk awake, staring at the deep shadows on his ceiling, for he’d dimmed the starshard lamp and tossed his cloak over it to further darken the room before collapsing into bed. Mainly so he wouldn’t have to see Olyn’s disappointed face looming over him.
Usually time spent with Olyn was the only reason to come home. Now, however, with Arynne’s claws in his heart, Kay couldn’t look his brother in the eye. What if he somehow found out? What if this cost him Olyn’s love? If his father had taught him anything, it was every affection had its limits. While Olyn’s love for Kay had proven far more resilient than Evyd’s, it could still be strained to the breaking point. Kay kissing Olyn’s future wife had to be more than even a long-suffering soul like Olyn could stand.
He closed his eyes again, determined to find the peace of oblivion, to stop thinking. Instead another dream captured him. This time Arynne’s magic surrounded him in the form of a warm, red glow that seeped into his blood and filled up his chest. He writhed against it. It wasn’t right. She wasn’t his. He couldn’t accept it ... but it felt so good. So very, very good. Surrendering to it, he savored the heat, remembering how it crackled against his skin every time she accessed her power near him. He’d never felt a connection like that with another magic user. It enlivened him like good drink and somehow made his senses more acute, more aware of the life flowing through his body. It made him want to live.
Unable to resist, he closed his eyes and basked in the dream. At least in a dream it wasn’t hurting anyone. He could pretend to have something worth going on for, if only for a few hours of unconscious bliss.
Once he ceased to fight it, the dream crept through his soul, soothing the aches and pains.
A rapping on the door jerked him out of his reverie. He sat up in bed.
He forced himself from the comfort of his blankets and, scratching his backside, worked his way out of his bedroom, through the sitting room, and to the door. Crede gazed at him from the other side.
“Prince Kajik, your father, the king, has requested your presence in his council.”
Kay rubbed his aching forehead. The voice was Crede, but he was using his formal court diction, rather than the cheerful, casual tone he’d have used with Kay on the training grounds. Stupid palace protocol.
Kay yawned. “Any idea what it’s about?”
“I suspect he wants to debrief you about your journey. The word has gotten out that you were pursued by grimwolves, and Starwarden Jaxon is requesting a hunting party to go after them.”
Kay let out a long breath and glanced down at his rumpled warden’s uniform. He’d slept in his clothes—the same clothes he’d been wearing since he left the Gloaming—which was also the last time he’d so much as washed his face, let alone bathed his whole body.
Oh well. If Father was going to summon him first thing in the brightening, Kay wasn’t going to bother to make himself pretty for it.
“Let me get my boots.”
He left the door open as he returned to the bedroom and shoved his boots on. He had one of the smaller chambers in the royal wing, a small sitting room and single bedroom without the attached bath the more luxurious chambers boasted. Even if he’d wanted to clean himself up, he would’ve had to make his way down to the shared bathing rooms or barge in on poor Olyn—who did have one of the three rooms on the floor with a bath. Instead he shot a sideways glance at the mirror next to his wardrobe, brushed his fingers quickly through his dark hair to smooth it down, and returned to Crede.
“You don’t have to babysit me any further,” he said. “I’ll travel to the council chambers.”
Crede shifted from foot to foot. “I think your father would prefer it if I escorted you.”
“I’m sure he would.” Kay grunted. Ignoring Crede’s worried frown, Kay drew forth a memory of the council chambers and of the empty stretch of floor between the entrance and the low stone table around which the council members would sit for meetings of state. Magic sparked in his blood, and the quiet, dimly lit hall of the royal wing flickered away to be replaced by the firelit stone walls of the council chamber.
Evyd glared at his son from his tall chair at the head of the council table. The heads of the council snapped in Kay’s direction. Most frowned at him, though none with the animus displayed in his father’s glower. Olyn, sitting directly to their father’s right, only winced.
Regret scratched at Kay’s soul for potentially making Olyn’s life more difficult, but it really wasn’t his fault Olyn insisted on trying to keep the peace. That was an impossible task no sane man would’ve set for himself—but Olyn would try.
On Evyd’s left sat a tall woman in a black dress with a black veil swept back over her graying hair. Lady Friya, Evyd’s younger sister and the twin of the foul Athan, had chosen to wear mourning garb since the death of her second husband nearly four starcycles before. As a female unable to pass on the starcaster magic, she’d been allowed to marry and bear as many children as she’d desired, and she had, three with a first husband—a starwarden who had passed away when he fell through the Grinding Ice, on a mission—and two with a second who had perished from fever. Her oldest son, Clindt, and two oldest daughters, Risella and Valka, were all members of the council, though Valka’s chair was empty for this meeting, probably off seeing to her mother’s bidding in some matter. Her absence was a slight relief. Valka was between Kay and Olyn in age and as a child had usually been the one the bring Kay rumors of all the negative things his extended family said about him when his back was turned—not that they didn't say enough to his face to make it clear where he stood in their appraisal. Still, Valka's delight at Kay's discomfort had followed them both into adulthood.
Two other chairs, however, which would’ve belonged to Rafal and Isak’s were also empty. Even now, those absences shouted at Kay. Was his father right? Should he have been able to save one or both of those men, as well as Arynne?
Two members of old families, Lord Fyle and Lord Hemdal, filled the remaining chairs. Both were gray-haired, of the generation before his father, hanging onto their positions with the same death grip that they held to their lives. Lord Hemdal appeared to be already half asleep, his eyes heavy-lidded, his beard on his chest.
“We received a report from Starwarden Jaxon.” King Evyd motioned behind Kay.
Turning slightly, Kay found Jaxon standing by the door, his stiff posture not hiding the discomfort in his mouth.
“He says he could find no trace of the grimwolves as you reported.”
Kay swallowed. “That doesn’t surprise me, sir. They were some distance from the capital and could’ve easily disappeared into the dark wastes before the wardens reached the Shadow Vale.”
“With no tracks?” Evyd arched an eyebrow.
“The starwarden did say it had snowed recently which made tracking nearly impossible, Father
,” Olyn pointed out.
“If you think I’m lying, I would first ask what reason I would have for doing so, and second, I would remind you that I was not alone out there.” Kay crossed his arms. “Princess Arynne saw the grimwolves as well. You can verify my story with her.”
Evyd scoffed. “It matters not. Whatever spooked you and the girl out in the wastes, it’s gone now. Probably no more than shadows and your own overwrought imaginations.”
Kay suspected the only reason the king had sent for him was so that Kay could be dressed down publically. Another record of Prince Kajik’s many failings to further justify the king’s loathing for his flesh-and-blood. Kay wasn’t in the mood for that. He’d lost friends out there, nearly died himself, nearly lost Arynne—and had experienced yet another punch to the gut when he realized how he felt about her. He gritted his teeth, longing to travel out of the council room—maybe back to his bed.
Still, whatever his father thought of him, Kay was a starwarden, and there was more at stake than his already soiled reputation.
“Sir, I don’t think we should just ignore an organized pack of grimwolves so close to the Starspire. They rarely wander out of the dark wastes, and the way they targeted the Princess Arynne along her path speaks to outside manipulation.”
A murmur swept across the council. Even Hemdal’s eyes were now fully open.
Steeling himself, Kay continued. “Also, Princess Arynne saw a shadowy figure following our band on multiple occasions, starting on the shores of the Skymere, but most notably shortly before the avalanche that killed the rest of our caravan—and nearly both of us as well.”
Olyn sat up straighter, glancing at Evyd out of the corner of his eye. The king’s sulky expression remained unchanged.
“If the figure was following us and had some part in the avalanche, as well as perhaps setting the grimwolves upon us, then the only explanation is that we are dealing with another sorcerer. No one else would have the ability to survive out there on their own.”
“But you and the princess did,” his cousin Risella pointed out.
“Barely, and for only a few moonnotches.” Kay frowned.
“But why would someone try to kill the princess?” Risella added.
“To prevent the prophecy from coming to pass, maybe,” Jaxon piped up from the back of the room. “A follower of Athan? We did our best to root them out, but some may have gone into hiding in the Gloaming.”
“Impossible.” Evyd waved his hand dismissively. “No one outside of my council, or the caravan itself, knew the true nature of the mission.”
Silence fell over the room. Several council members shifted in their seats, perhaps wondering if there was a traitor amongst them.
“If I may ask, nephew,” Lady Friya spoke for the first time, her low, steady voice commanding attention, “did you yourself see this figure or only the princess?”
Kay swallowed. “The princess only, but I have no reason to doubt her.”
“No reason to doubt a frightened girl unused to the darkness of our lands and the ever shifting shadows cast by the moon upon the snow?” Friya laughed a dry, joyless laugh.
Displeasure rippled through Kay’s gut. “Arynne may be young, but she’s of far stronger stuff than you would imagine, not given to fantasies or panic. It would be unwise to dismiss her observations—especially if there is even a slight chance we’re dealing with another human given over to dark spirits.”
Friya stuck her nose in the air. “Since when does a boy of less than twenty-two starcycles seek to lecture a woman of fifty on so-called wisdom?”
Kay’s face warmed. “I mean no disrespect, Aunt Friya. However, the consequences of being wrong in this case would be too dire not to take preventative action.”
“Friya, have the seers under your instruction given any indication that a second sorcerer exists beyond Athan?” Evyd asked.
As well as the king’s sister, Friya was the main seer in the kingdom, known to be the most powerful. The majority of seers trained under and reported to her.
“No, brother, they have not.”
“Seeing is hardly a foolproof practice, Mother,” Clindt pointed out. Though he had his mother’s seeing magic, he had followed in his late father’s example, concentrating on his paternal magic of mending. Of all the council members, he was the least likely to be unpleasant to Kay. “If Kajik is right, we need to prepare.”
“But if we’re wrong, we stir up the populace for nothing,” Lord Fyle barked. “Every rumor of grimwolves, every whisper of dark spirits, every allusion to Athan’s return, it brings unrest, it causes neighbor to doubt neighbor. It is the route to disorder and civil war.”
The council exploded into debate, Clindt protesting Fyle’s complacency, Risella arguing that her brother was too easily spooked. Hemdal blustering but saying, in fact, very little.
“Enough!” Evyd stood and pounded his fist on the table.
Kay flinched, the sound bringing back shouting matches from his childhood. It took all his willpower not to travel out of the room right that instant. The council fell silent.
“We are already taking measures.” The king scowled. “We know the prophecy. If Athan or his followers attempt to return, the union of the Sun Princess and the Star Prince will stop them.”
Olyn’s mouth wrinkled as if he’d tasted something sour. “Really, Father, I’m uncomfortable with how much faith the kingdom has placed in me in this regard. I’ve never fought a grimwolf, let alone a sorcerer—”
“Your bond to the princess will make you strong enough.” Evyd shrugged. “The prophecy makes that clear. In fact, if anything this means we need to move faster to put our plan into action. Clindt, how soon can we hold the heartbonding ceremony?”
Something squeezed at Kay’s heart though he kept his expression placid.
Clindt stood to address the table. He was older than the two princes, just shy of thirty starcycles, with a dust-brown beard that had never filled in completely and tranquil gray eyes. “Honestly, the preparations for the ceremony are not an issue. I can have them completed in a moonnotch if need be. However, whether the heartbond takes isn’t up to me or my magic. A mender can introduce the magic to a couple, but it will only bond if the match is fated, their magic compatible, and their affection true. While I don’t doubt that fate will bind my cousin and his bride, it is my understanding that she only arrived in our kingdom at the end of the last brightening.” He glanced at Olyn, who squirmed in his seat. “If allowed to advise, I would say we are best waiting until the princess has had a chance to get to know our prince and form an attachment to him.”
Evyd left his chair and started for the door. “Time is short. The prophecy is strong. Clindt, set up a meeting between yourself, Olyn, and the Solean princess.”
“Her name is Arynne,” Kay mumbled, though not loudly enough that any paid him heed.
The room emptied quickly once Evyd left, everyone brushing past Kay without a word. Finally alone, he was ready to travel back to bed when a hand clamped down on his shoulder. He whirled to face Olyn.
Kay’s brother gave him a tired smile. “I thought we could talk.”
Kay grimaced. “Here?”
Olyn chuckled, magic sparked through his fingers into Kay, and they stood in the garden outside the palace rather than in the council chambers.
“Better?” Olyn asked.
Kay shrugged and settled on a stone bench beside a fish pond. “It’ll do.”
Olyn stood above him, shifting from foot to foot, eyes troubled. “Are you all right?”
“Good as always,” Kay lied.
“Yeah, well, Father was wrong to call you out like that. He has no reason to distrust your reports. You’ve proven you know what you’re doing as a warden time and time again, after all.”
“He just likes seeing me put in my place, is all.” Kay leaned forward. “Father being bullheaded isn’t a new thing. What’s really bothering you, brother?”
Olyn groaned, plopped down
on the bench beside Kay, and sank his head in his hands. He sat for several moments, quietly tugging at his own hair and drawing deep, audible breaths. “This whole thing—Kay, Father has got it into his head that I’m going to save Frorheim from Athan, but he’s never let me out of sight of the Starspire. I’ve trained using my magic and the sword, of course, but in a controlled setting, never with any real danger. I’m supposed to be the savior of the kingdom, and I don’t have the slightest idea what I’m doing and now, Arynne ... Arynne.” He looked up with a sigh.
Kay had to angle away, afraid his brother would see the distress on his face.
“She’s beautiful, you know, and strong—even in the short time I’ve known her, I can see she’s got a fire in her—literally.” Olyn laughed. “You did well, brother.”
“It was nothing.” Kay couldn’t muster any enthusiasm, but Olyn didn’t seem to notice.
“It was everything! Do you know how terrified I have been to meet my future bride? Wondering how she’d fare thrust into this whole mess?” Olyn’s shoulders relaxed. “Arynne gives me hope. If any woman can handle being half of a prophecy to take on Athan, she can.”
“Yeah, she can.” Kay innards writhed like anxious eels. “I really didn’t do much, though. She practically volunteered, wanted out from under her brother’s thumb.”
“The thing is ... I’m kind of intimidated by her.” Olyn rubbed at his beard with the back of his hand. “I’ve always known that I was destined to marry a girl Father chose for me, so I didn’t give much thought to love. Now, however, the heartbond might not work if we don’t have affection towards each other.”