“I know.” He grabbed my wrist and twisted the dagger from my hand, which felt suddenly bereft. “I’m not supposed to be in here,” Luken continued. “The King has forbidden anyone except Elizabetta and Sir Jonathan Helms to be near you.”
I jerked away from him and stared through the half-open curtains.
“Maybe it was the wrong day to give you a weapon.” He grimaced, placing the blade on the bedside table.
“You promised me freedom,” I said, barely above a whisper.
“And you promised you would remember I always have your best interest at heart. I tried everything to change their minds. Father has somehow become terrified he will end up with only a single daughter as an heir. He is desperate to secure the lifeline of Brisleia, even if it means including Podar.”
“You seem to be in good health, Luken,” I quipped.
“I don’t plan on dying.” His face fell. “Ayleth, this proposal . . . the thought of you not being with me when I ascend to the throne . . . my sister permanently hundreds of miles away . . . I don’t want to let you go. I need you.”
I shook my head. “Get out.”
“Please, I’m doing everything I can for you.”
“Are you looking for my sympathy? Do you want my praise for your failed effort? For me to bow down to you like everyone else?”
“You mean everything to me,” he said softly.
“Do you know what Prince Marcus plans to do with me? He intends to bind me into a slave form if I do not submit to his demands.” I crossed my arms over my chest. I felt violated just hearing the words rush out of my mouth. “I don’t care if he convinced the lot of you of admirable intentions with his ranting in the Senate. Once I am in Podar, once I am his, he is never going to let me go, whether I produce an heir for him or not.”
Luken frowned and began to grind his teeth. “Maybe you heard him wrong.”
“His intentions were clear.”
He took a seat on my bed. “It’s worse than I thought,” he grumbled, anger shooting through his eyes. He punched the mattress, then rested his elbows on his knees, cradling his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry, Ayleth. I’ve failed you. I failed to protect you from this marriage, and my attempts to persuade the Senate were useless. What kind of weak King am I going to be?”
I sat beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Had I judged him too harshly? He looked so helpless. Luken was used to having things go well for him. He was used to having exactly what he wanted whenever he willed it. For the first time, he was powerless.
“Earlier today, when I told you I was leaving in the morning, I wasn’t completely honest with you.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I am not the only Divine Prince worried about Marcus’s intentions. His actions feel like a Senate-appointed kidnapping. Curtus Lamare and I are gathering a following. We plan to overthrow Brisleian Parliament in an attempt to convince Prince Tydous and the Duvali King to veto the marriage.”
“Luken!” I shrieked, jumping to my feet. Treason. The word slammed into my mind like an axe to the brain. If his plan went awry, it would mean severe punishment for Luken and death for all those brave enough to oppose the King. “You can’t take that kind of risk.”
“It is a risk those of us against this decree are willing to take. Father knows nothing, and with luck we can convince the Duvali royals to insist the Senate rescind the approval. Remind them of the dangers associated with a cross-continental marriage. Fix this disaster before it destroys us all. I am not going to lie down and give up. Not yet. I will not hand you over to Podar without a fight.”
“I can’t let you do this for me.”
“This is bigger than just you. We must stop whatever Marcus is planning. People are blindly praising his movements, but if he is left unchecked . . . I fear the outcome.”
“Luken . . .” Guilt flooded my chest over my earlier harsh words.
“Consider it already done. I need you to trust me until I either free you or fail you.” Luken retrieved the dagger from the table and wrapped my hand around the grip. He gingerly kissed each of my fingers, his mouth lingering close to my skin. Despite his request, I wasn’t sure I could continue waiting for everyone else to decide my future.
A hazy gray encased the sky, with the sun barely visible in the east. I stood in my private garden watching the scene below, gripping the stone ramparts so tightly my knuckles turned white.
In the palace courtyard, Luken gave orders to his attendants as they loaded caravans and readied the horses for a journey south. He had assembled a frighteningly small group of soldiers to escort him through open country, scarcely enough to fend off a gang of bandits. How had the King ever agreed to such a venture? Perhaps, like Luken’s objective, he was also ignorant about the Prince’s ludicrously inadequate travel arrangements.
Luken’s entourage departed through the Alamantia City gates as the rising sun peeked above the mountains and filled the sky with an ominous red glow. The world felt altered—cold and quiet—as he embarked on the most perilous journey of his life.
Before leaving, he had kissed my cheek, hugged me tighter than I ever thought possible, and taught me how to fasten his elaborate birthday present around my ankle. The blade rested snugly against my skin, under the layers of silk and taffeta. As long as I had it with me, Luken remained. A minuscule comfort, but comfort nonetheless.
Elizabetta had turned a blind eye to the dagger when she had dressed me that morning. She had chosen a yellow gown embellished with pink embroidered flowers—simple, elegant, refined—tossed my mess of curls into a hairnet, and braided a strand across my head like a band.
“Ayleth,” she called from the balcony, “Sir Jonathan Helms has arrived.”
Sir Johnathan Helms, the Unity Knight of Wisdom, was my tutor. He fascinated me with tales of traveling Athera and often brought books from abroad. Much to the queen’s dismay, he embraced my love of literature instead of shunning it in favor of sewing, singing, dancing, and music—skills to please a future husband. I was a poor pianist but had read every book in my library.
Breakfast covered the table in the receiving room, and nestled in the seat closest to the fire, drinking a steaming cup of tea, sat Sir Jonathan Helms. He was handsome for an elderly man, tall and muscular in the arms and shoulders, with a striking set of pewter eyes.
“Your Highness.” He stood when I entered the room and gave a slow bow. “Congratulations on your engagement.”
Any flicker of happiness I’d had upon seeing him was extinguished. I ground my teeth. “Thank you. I am . . . overjoyed.”
Jonathan laughed. “Don’t sound so convincing. You might actually make someone believe you don’t detest the idea.”
“Your sarcasm is unappreciated this morning, sir.”
“You have never been a good liar.” He shook his head and reseated himself. “You seem to be more accepting of the situation this morning.”
Elizabetta scoffed, pulling a chair to the window and settling in with her sewing.
“Please.” He gestured to the seat beside him. “I would love to hear more about this tantrum you threw last night, for anything that makes the King and queen as furious as they were this morning is well worth me lending an ear to.” He held back a smile but couldn’t hide the twinkle in his eyes.
I breathed deeply before joining him. He poured me a cup of tea and stirred in a cube of sugar.
“I have to get out of this engagement. Can you talk to the King? You’re a Counsel Knight. He trusts your opinions, and you have a seat in Parliament. There must be something that can be said on my behalf.”
“I’m afraid I could no sooner get you out of this engagement than I could make you sprout wings and fly. Your brother has been outspoken, and the King is furious at his opposition. I have no intention of doing anything to further enrage him.”
My fingers trembled around my teacup, and my chest tightened.
He placed a hand on my shoulder, his brows furrowing in concern. “Breathe, Ayleth.
”
I inhaled sharply and hiccupped. “The queen has banished me from court until I acknowledge this engagement,” I said in a rush.
“Well, of course she has. She will expect you to have a certain love towards Prince Marcus in public, and currently you are not fulfilling your mother’s expectations for her Divine daughter. She can’t have the newly engaged couple not acting newly engaged. It’s easier to hide your actions than admit to Athera that you oppose the union. The people don’t want the truth. They want the fantasy of two strangers falling instantly and madly in love.”
I needed air. I left the table and joined Elizabetta by the window. The city below bustled with activity. From six hundred feet up the mountain, everyone looked so small—merchants selling wares and servants arriving for duties at the palace. What must it feel like to look up from the streets of Alamantia in hopes of seeing the figure of a Divine? “Wear perfection like a second skin, the image of Divine purity. No matter the cost. No matter what you truly feel on the inside,” I mumbled.
“Can the Divine and those they choose as their partners be anything less?” Jonathan bit into a cheese pastry. “The Divine are Athera’s treasure, and we all must play our part.”
“They think they are protecting us by locking us in palaces, giving us riches, as if that were all it took to make a person happy. I’d rather rot than continue this hollow life in Podar.” I watched a group of children run through the noble district, kites trailing in the air behind them.
Jonathan put down his pastry and rubbed his palms together. “Be careful with your words, Ayleth. Your father is on the verge of making that happen.”
“I’ve heard the air in Podar is so thick with ash that you can’t see the stars. I’ve heard the smoke burns your eyes and the sun never breaks through the clouds.”
“Some of that’s true.” He sighed, running his finger along the edge of his discarded pastry. “The sun appears as a glowing yellow ball behind the haze. Red skies are always on the horizon. As for the stars . . .” He gave a defeated shrug.
“I would miss the mountains.”
“Volcanoes are a kind of mountain.” He winked, his lips curving into a halfhearted smile.
“Hardly—”
The chamber doors swung open, and Ambrosia stepped into the room.
“Your Highness, I must insist—”
“Insist what?” she snapped at the door guard. “That I not see my granddaughter due to some doltish rule placed by my son? Be on your way.”
The guard’s mouth formed a hard line as she glared at him. Yielding, he closed the chamber doors.
Ambrosia’s flushed complexion complemented her peach satin gown. Jonathan looked at her warmly, and his mouth twitched into a grin as her cheeks took on an even deeper red.
“Good morning, Grandmother.” I bowed my head to her. “Come to join us for breakfast?”
“If there is enough to go around,” she teased.
“And if the King pays it no mind,” I added.
Jonathan pulled out a chair for her. “My son has no right to tell me I cannot comfort my granddaughter in the weeks before her wedding,” she asserted, taking a seat.
Jonathan pushed in her chair, discreetly trailing a gentle touch along the back of her neck before sitting beside her. I raised a suspicious brow at Elizabetta. She shook her head and returned to her sewing. In all the years Sir Jonathan Helms had been my tutor, Ambrosia had never missed a lesson.
“You are always welcome, Grandmother.” My voice disrupted the lingering stare they were giving each other.
“That will be enough, Ayleth,” Ambrosia said sharply, putting a stop to my questionable smirk.
“Might I make an observation?” Jonathan said, changing the subject as he poured Ambrosia a cup of tea. “In the past, you had spoken fondly of leaving the palace. Traveling with your brother. Seeing the world before another bloodline becomes extinct. The beaches of Duval. The volcanoes of Podar. I remember a young girl who became quite distraught when the King put a firm end to any talk of her leaving the palace. Now, as fate has it, you get the chance to see a different setting.”
“Crossing the border to stay indefinitely in Podar is hardly seeing the bulk of Athera,” I argued.
“Do you think it implausible that Prince Marcus would take you with him when he visits foreign dignitaries and the Senate?” he asked.
I shut my eyes, trying to squash the image of the Queen of Podar from my head. Jonathan Helms was obviously unaware of how the Prince planned to treat me. I could voice the horror once to my brother in private, but uttering the words again was impossible. “Don’t presume that the King means to tell Parliament and the Unity Knights everything about Prince Marcus’s arrangements, or what happens in the Senate.” The words came out with more acid than I intended. I didn’t mean to offend Jonathan, but the growing silence in the room suggested I’d done precisely that.
Jonathan cleared his throat. “Prince Marcus’s caravan made a detour to Medial Alexandria during our journey to Alamantia. I had the opportunity to visit the public libraries.”
My interest piqued, and I slid back into my chair.
“Prince Marcus spends much of his time at Medial Alexandria. According to the library scholars, he has a specific interest in the Divine bloodlines and the function of the Mandala. Your brother has been anxious to examine the same texts to search for any information proving the bloodlines cannot interbreed. It appears, despite the treaty being authorized by the Senate, Prince Luken has not given up his attempts to prevent this marriage. Unfortunately, I was unable to deliver the information he requested before his departure this morning.”
I ignored the churn in my stomach to remain straight-faced. “What information were you giving to him?”
“It seems that along with all information regarding the Riving, the documents on Divinity and the Mandala have also been lost to history. There are absolutely no texts on the subject. Careless of the senators to misplace such critical data, don’t you think?”
“Are you suggesting the senators just erase from history anything they don’t want made public?”
“That would be an intriguing concept.” He tilted his head and clicked his tongue. “My theory is the lost scrolls are not truly lost, especially considering Prince Marcus has such an expansive knowledge on the subject. Such accusations are denied, but I suspect the Senate has removed the information from public access.”
“Why?”
He hesitated, his eyes wandering to Ambrosia, who quietly sipped her tea. “I can’t be certain, but I do know that Prince Marcus—” He stopped abruptly when she squeezed his wrist, and he patted her fingers to reassure her. “He has become instrumental in the research of the dreaming children the Senate has locked in their prison. He seems to also be involved with the Onyx Guard, but I found no information to confirm his role.”
I went rigid and leaned back against my chair, trying to hide my alarm. A lump grew in my throat, and my palms started to sweat.
“In any case, Prince Marcus did not propose such a controversial idea to the Senate without having some unknown factor backing the decision.”
“Ayleth? Are you all right? You’ve gone as pale as the moon.” Ambrosia set her teacup on the table.
Of all the people Prince Marcus could have asked to be his Queen, he had chosen not only another Divine but a Divine who dreams. Dreams the same as Medial Alexandria’s prisoners, the poor children renounced by their parents and forsaken by all others. I had never breathed a word of my insanity. He couldn’t possibly know I was a Fae.
I swallowed hard. “I’m fine. I believe I am . . . still in shock. I would have thought this marriage was too large a risk for Podar, being that Prince Marcus is the last living Divine heir to their throne. He must be confident to mortgage his country’s future on an experiment.”
“So it would seem,” Jonathan confirmed.
“It’s Podar repeating history, is it not?” I continued. “The last time the Podarian
s sought to obtain domination over Athera, it ended in the destruction of Kenara. They cannot openly declare control over Brisleia. In order for Prince Marcus to establish any sort of new world order, he must do it without a war. What better means than by mixing the bloodlines and claiming a true blood pact over all Brisleian Divinity?”
A slow grin tugged at Jonathan’s mouth. “You should have been in politics, Your Highness.”
I took a deep breath, and my chest rattled. “You are oddly quiet this morning, Grandmother.”
Ambrosia folded her hands on the edge of the table. “I cannot help but wonder what my son has to gain from all this. The King cannot possibly be in such fear of losing his heirs that he would allow Podar such a strong hold on Brisleia’s future. His recent actions are puzzling.”
The receiving chamber doors opened, and my guard trotted nervously into the room. “His Divine Royal Majesty the King,” he announced.
Surprised, Ambrosia spilled her cup, splashing brown liquid across the floor. My father had not visited my apartments in years. My heart sank knowing what it meant.
The four of us fell to our knees as the King of Brisleia entered the room. He strolled with purpose, taking his time with each deliberate step. His hands were folded behind his back, and his inflated chest and grand posture reminded me of Luken, only heavier and more cunning, older and wiser.
“Mother, nice to see you here,” King Hugo said pleasantly, but an underlying irritation rebuked her presence. She bowed her head lower in submission. “Good morning to you, Sir Helms,” he added.
“It certainly is, Your Majesty,” Jonathan replied.
“If you would excuse us, I need to have a word alone with my daughter.”
I shuddered. Ambrosia looked at me longingly before the guard escorted her and Jonathan from the room, taking my nurse as well.
Alone with my father. This was serious. The queen had already banished me from court. I hated to think what the King was here to do. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today, Your Majesty,” I said softly and sweetly, mustering as much of the wellborn lady within me as I could.
Dreams of the Fae: Transcendence Page 5