by R. J. Price
Url cleared his throat, drawing all eyes to him. Even as heir, he should have left his father to do the talking. “The north would like to submit to the palace under any terms the palace finds appropriate. Discounting the return of the original palace, which we are currently living in and is mine. I don't want to give up my toy, so either I keep it or I have my mate, whenever I find one, turn it into a pile of rubble and then no one can have it.”
As the high lord, however, Url was the only one able to utter those words and have the court take him seriously.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Url went with Ervam to the guard house to request more patrols. The master assigned two sets to Para and Cerlot’s rooms. One for the doors leading into the palace and one for the doors leading to the courtyard that Para had used to escape in the past. He asked for a guardian for Merkat, but only because the southern baron had begun drinking quite heavily and the master was concerned the man might hurt himself and a war with the south would start.
Ervam worded everything as the master giving the commands. When the captain of the guard questioned Url being at Ervam’s side, the trainer had sighed loudly.
“Throne business,” Ervam said.
The captain looked Url over, then peered at Ervam for a moment. “Given all and all, Ervam, you have to excuse my decision to ask Aren about this throne business tomorrow morning.”
“Absolutely. If she were with anyone but Av, I’d say we could go wake her now about it. You recall Url is the high lord of the north, correct?”
“Ah, yes, and as trainer you’d say his interests lie in…?”
“I almost destroyed an innocent family to reunite the north with palace lands and Aren was the only thing that stopped me,” Url said. He kept his eyes focused on the captain as his uncle turned to him, very aware of which family would be ripped apart in order to bring the north into palace lands immediately.
He hadn’t told Ervam about that little discussion, and he had never planned to. In that moment, however, it was best to quell suspicion rather than have one or more of them arrested and start an incident. The captain saw Url’s reaction, took in Ervam’s reaction, and nodded.
“Fair enough, then. I’ll send the guards.”
Url turned as his uncle’s teeth ground together. He walked back to the palace and tried not to think about the angry trainer who was following him. He hadn’t grown up with a trainer, his uncle had been the first in the bloodline in generations and the only other trainer in the north was in the far north and had never visited Castle Grey.
He had heard the stories, though. His father and his other uncles had come together and tried to find a way to teach their boys what it was like to be attacked by a trainer.
Ervam was smaller than all his brothers, even fully grown, but he had held his own in fights against full-grown warriors from the time he was ten. Not because he was better trained, though trainers tended to learn at an obscene speed, but because when a trainer struck a warrior it was like having a hot poker shoved under one’s flesh.
Which was the closest description his other uncles could come up with.
They managed to make it back to where the barons were hiding out for the night. Drink had been brought in, Merkat was already passed out and snoring across a table. The barons had all had a drink or two. Gamen’s son, the young queen, stood to the side watching Van with curiosity. Years of practice allowed Van to drink and still maintain his cover, where the young man had only begun learning to hide from those who would look too closely. On the coast no one questioned male queens.
The east had always had male and female queens in about equal numbers. Perhaps because they didn’t prosecute those born a way they could not help, or perhaps because in times of old, male queens would run to the coastal islands to hide. There were so many islands, so many places to hide and, if necessary, pick up and start anew on an entirely new piece of land.
Url made eye contact with his father after assessing the room. He dared tilt his head ever so slightly towards Ervam.
He had told his father about the chat down in the archives. For the sake of the blood they shared, because it was their bloodline that would be marred by the news. Ervam was out of the north, his line and his boys wouldn’t be tarnished by the news, especially since he had been the one to put an end to the problem.
The trainer’s hand closed on Url’s arm, fingers digging into his flesh and for a startling moment Url’s world was one of pain. He thought his arm had broken, that his skin had boiled away.
“Father?” Jer asked.
Ervam dropped Url’s arm and met his eyes.
Saved by the only person who might have stopped a father’s anger. Url looked away and lowered his eyes because he knew if it came to a fight, Ervam would win. He also knew he had done something that those who ruled the palace would look down on. Aren had made her point very clear, but Ervam didn’t know that and didn’t care. All the trainer cared about was the fact that Url had been willing to reveal the truth while full knowing the consequences of his actions.
“Your cousin here thinks he’d make a better pair for Aren,” Ervam grumbled, trying to give a reason for his anger.
In a way that was true. Av would have likely been destroyed in Jer’s anger. Brother against brother, Av would have held back to try to stop Jer and Jer would have held nothing back.
Their bloodline was well known for what commoners quaintly called ‘blooding,’ which was the destruction of an enemy with one’s bare hands and whatever the enemy had on them. Not weapons though, rarely weapons because a sharp edge made things go too quickly. Life-altering news could do that, losing a mate or child could do that.
Even if Jer took after his mother, there would be a trail of bodies in his wake.
“And?” Jer asked. “He can’t take Av, let alone Aren. She’d melt the flesh off his bones. She’d probably also talk the healers into replacing the flesh so she could do it again. Come have a drink or two.”
“I might just head to bed,” Ervam growled through gritted teeth.
“Father, come sit and have a drink or two,” Jer said with an edge to his voice.
The trainer moved around Jer without comment. Url let out a breath and met his cousin’s eyes. There was something there that wasn’t Jer. It smiled back at him, then was gone a moment later, leaving Url’s mind reeling.
Could the throne see through male eyes? Could it take over a body? There had never been any stories of the like. Queens talked about how the throne moved them into doing something, but never the men who sat beside them.
Jer stepped closer to Url. “You said something that upset my father on a fundamental level, Url. Need I warn you off?”
“It was necessary to prove to the guard we were not trying treason,” he said.
“And I suppose you won’t share this information with me?” Jer said.
“I made a hint of it to someone else and that was his rage,” Url said. He rubbed absently at his arm. “I’d hate to see what sort of a mood he flies into if I tell someone straight out about it. No thank you, Jer. I don’t want to try a trainer, let alone the trainer that is my uncle.”
“What’s that mean?” Jer asked.
“Let’s just say the messes our family is known for making was nothing compared to what the trainer did to my grandfather’s guard of twenty men in order to reach my grandfather to kill him,” he said. He watched Jer take in the information, at the odd sort of colouring to come over his cousin. “There’s a reason you feared him from the cradle. There’s a reason the palace feared him before he protected your mother. Mostly harmless, unless you do something stupid, and telling you about what put him into that mood? That would be very, very stupid of me.”
“Come have a drink,” Jer commanded.
He moved to the table and took the seat beside his father, thankful for the protection of a title. The others respected Url less for being high lord. Originally the plan was to drive complete independence from palace lands. Wit
h Url holding both titles there wasn’t supposed to be any way for the palace to hold sway over the north any longer.
Mirmae had demanded Url stand as high lord, or be removed. The only problem there being that high lord, unlike baron, was a lifetime position. A high lord acted as the throne in the lands they lived in. If they did wrong, they were executed and their son placed in their stead.
They enjoyed a few drinks and the mood settled back down. The older generation shared stories, grew rowdy. Gamen and Er tried their hand at wrestling, then drew Ervam into it. Laeder and Url made momentary eye contact over the wrestling barons. The younger man had a questioning look on his face, but blushed when their eyes met. He looked away quickly, blush deepening as he risked a glance at Jer.
Uncertain of his place now that the arrangement had been called off, Laeder was supposed to return south with his father. The little scribe likely had other plans. He was a good commoner, a good person, but not Url’s type. With a grimace he wondered if he’d ever find someone to stir him for more than breeding properties.
Without warning the door of the room was thrown open and Telm strode in. The woman pulled to a sudden stop, her eyes roving over the scene before her. Her hands clutched several sheets of paper and there was a panic about the woman’s demeanour. Something had spooked her.
“Telm?” Ervam asked from the floor, pinned there thanks to the efforts of both Gamen and Er.
“Mirmae gave to me a letter before she left for her home that last time,” Telm said, her voice breaking slightly. She paused and drew in a breath. “She told me that I would know when to open it and so I did this night, reading through, or bits at least. It would seem she knew Aren would succeed her and said that Em was a backup, if Mirmae died before Aren was of age, the throne would go to Em. Whatever the throne wants or needs, it needed Aren of age to do it.”
“So Mirmae was to die so that the throne could—“ Ervam started.
“She was to be released,” Telm said, her voice quivering once more. “I’ve never heard of such a thing but this is Mirmae we’re speaking about. If she said the sky would turn pink, we would simply accept it as bound to happen.”
“That’s why you’re panicking?” Jer asked. “The throne almost releases those who sit it and are pregnant, I believe is the way it was put to me.”
“I’m panicking because of the last line.” Telm snapped out her arm to Laeder, who hesitantly took the papers and read part of the page, his lips moving as he did so.
“If the stone is in play, learn to duck,” Laeder said finally.
A frown creased the man’s forehead. He didn’t understand the line, but Url had heard it often enough.
A rank was told that they would have to learn to duck. It didn’t mean that one was to run or retreat, though in some ways it did. To duck was to go against one’s own nature, to learn a new way about life or be killed in the process.
“How can a stone be in play?” Gamen asked.
“She was your line!” Ervam protested.
“Oh, the mines,” Gamen said. “You mean the myths of living stone. As if stone could live.”
“Yes, the living stone,” Laeder growled at the eastern baron, startling everyone in the room with the edge to his voice. “Which Aren is infected with, which you’ve all been warned about. If she warned everyone, why were you told to learn to duck?”
Telm drew in a long breath, then let it out slowly. “I don’t think she sent the first warning about Aren, I think it was about Em’s aunts.”
“What?” Van protested.
“To tell you this story,”—Telm motioned to the bottle by Url’s hand.—“I’m going to need a long drink. Oh, oh no, but first I need to speak with that man before he does something stupid.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Av awoke at some point, aware that someone was near the rooms. He slipped out of bed and approached the door, pulling to a startled stop when Telm stepped into the room and turned towards the door to close it silently.
He growled out a low warning, causing the woman to leap in place. She spun to him and jabbed a finger at his face, only to drop the finger ever so slowly as the lights nearest the door glowed dimly. Telm’s eyes roved down him once, then back up and focused on his face pointedly.
“Do you suppose she wants a child at eighteen?” Telm whispered.
He had to bite back his own instincts. He wanted children, he wanted a great deal of children, what warrior didn’t want little monsters running around?
Very carefully he said, “No, I don’t suppose she does.”
“No sex, not until she’s on contraceptive,” Telm said, jabbing the finger at him once more. “Or I’ll take your bits and no amount of well-muscled man is going to distract me.”
Somehow he had flustered Telm. She had grown up at the palace, surely she had seen naked men before. Av watched the queen consider, frown, then shake the finger at him again. Perhaps reminding herself that she was old enough to be his mother, or possibly his grandmother given the fact that no one quite recalled Telm’s actual age?
“I won’t be stupid, I’d rather enjoy her company longer,” Av said.
Which made a red creep into Telm that he could see despite the dim light. She nodded once, shook the finger again and bolted from the room.
Av caught the door as it tried to swing shut and closed it quietly. He considered his options, because of course mentioning the deed had stirred desire.
There was more than one way to pleasure a woman. Or a man for that matter, though Aren wouldn’t know the first thing about either. Now would be a good time to introduce her to a new thing. Time later to worry about their bath.
He approached the bed and woke her with kisses. Ignoring his own needs, he took pleasure in eliciting each shiver, each moan from her. He drove her on until she tried to roll him, to take control. Then he pinned her to the bed.
“Not tonight, darling,” he whispered in her ear. “I'll explain in the morning. For now, just try to relax and enjoy yourself.”
“What about you?” Aren asked.
“Later,” Av responded. “Later.”
He used every trick he knew, drawing out the final shudder after a good deal of time. Sliding to the side, Av lay there, watching her breathe. As her breathing slowed, she rolled on her side, watching Av as he trailed a hand down her side.
“Care to explain now?” Aren asked.
“I figured that would tire you out,” Av rumbled in response. “As to your question, to keep you from getting any bright ideas in the morning, we're waiting to deal with contraceptives. If we both take them, it lessens the chances greatly. The discussion about children is one for a day months down the road, after we've enjoyed each other thoroughly.”
“Speaking of enjoying each other,” Aren laid a hand on Av.
“Uh,” Av tried to protest because he had not done what he did for Aren because he expected anything to be repaid in kind. How could he argue with that feeling, though? “Can I show you how I know I like it?”
Aren hesitated. “You don't like this?”
“I do, I like everything you do,” Av said, leading her hands with his own. “I know how my body responds. Without words, how do we know, besides guessing? Guessing leads to frustration, which means no one feels good at the end.”
“All right, show me,” Aren said.
Av showed Aren how he liked to be touched. He did enjoy it, but he thought constantly about a better way to go about things, a way he had to resist thinking about for a month at least, while the contraceptives were gone through, while Aren learned to prepare them properly.
Content, Aren finally lay down to sleep. Av wrapped himself around her and drifted off to sleep, warmed by her presence.
Sometime later he awoke to a small sound. Av grimaced and curled into Aren, only to find himself wrapped around a pillow. He sat up and looked to the light, coming from one side of the hearth. A part of the wall, which Av was absolutely certain had been solid when they lay down
to sleep, was open. Annoyed that things kept moving and changing on him when they weren't supposed to, he slid out of bed.
He groped around, found his trousers and dragged them on. Sighing at the darkness on his side of the bed, Av stood and made himself walk like a normal person.
All he wanted to do was sleep, all he needed was to curl around Aren and hold her close. They had been apart for so long and that was all he wanted. To sleep beside Aren and wake to her gorgeous face. Instead he was up in the middle of the night, wandering towards a light that came from a room that hadn't been there before.
Av stepped into the archway and looked over the room.
Books upon books, literally, stacks of books that started on the floor and met the ceiling. There were bookshelves built into the very walls of the room, they were also overflowing. Loose papers were scattered all over. A writing desk stood in the corner behind the door, almost hidden journals stacked atop it, inkwells.
Taking it all in, Av considered what it could be and decided this must be the library his father mentioned to him. This little room held the knowledge of those who had come and gone since the palace had been rebuilt.
Centuries of queens coming and going so quickly, with only a few managing to hold the throne for more than ten years.
In the middle of the room was a pedestal that was empty.
At the bottom of the pedestal, on the floor, Aren sat, surrounded by open books. Her back to Av, he had no idea what was going through her mind as she stared down at the floor.
“Aren?” he asked quietly.
Her shoulders trembled.
Av was at her side in a moment, kneeling beside her. He drew her close, hugging her as she cried even though he didn't understand why she was crying. What was going through Aren's mind, what had she read in the books that upset her so much?