The King's Sons (The Herezoth Trilogy)

by Grefer, Victoria

  “Traiglanders are far too senseless to understand how dull their lives are, that’s all that means,” Kansten offered. Hune’s lip twitched as he fought a smirk.

  “Not shy to offer your opinions, are you?”

  “You feel the same about Traigland,” said Kansten. “You won’t say so. You can’t, not being the king’s son, but I’d wager you feel the same.”

  “Herezoth grips a person,” Hune insisted, dodging her accusation. “If you give it time, it’ll sink its claws in you. Your blood’s all Herezoth, no? How content are your parents, your uncle, in Traigland? I’m sure their lives are comfortable, but don’t they long for something else? Somewhere else?”

  Kansten’s mother, without a doubt. She had raised her children with legends and folk tales from Herezoth, with stories from her own childhood here, and her voice sounded different when she wove those tales than at other times. As for Parker, Kansten’s father, he would complain about the salt air when he took his daughter fishing. He was from Yangerton, far from Herezoth’s coast, and had fished on the Podra River some two days south of the capital. In contrast to his wife, he rarely mentioned his homeland directly; silence made his self-imposed exile easier to bear.

  Then there was Uncle Zac. He might live in Traigland, but unlike Kora could return to Herezoth. He probably spent a third of his time in Podrar. And Vane…. No one in Kansten’s family had ever doubted Vane would move back to the land of his birth.

  Hune said, “Don’t judge Herezoth too hastily.”

  Kansten narrowed her eyes at the prince. “What concern of yours is that?”

  “None, I suppose. But Herezoth’s in your blood. Your mother sacrificed so much for this place…. You shouldn’t rush to condemn it. For her sake.”

  The response made Kansten quail at how sharp her question had been. She was speaking with royalty, after all. “I don’t mean to be so testy,” she apologized. Hune waved a dismissive hand, and smiled.

  “It’s refreshing, to tell the truth. Few people are candid with me. Unguarded. I’ve always wished more were.”

  “They see your birth when they look at you, don’t they? That must be a pain in the….”

  “It can be trying. But really, if that’s the major complaint I have of life, it’s no complaint at all. My family’s sincere, if no one else. My brothers, painfully so.”

  “The crown prince, did he need you yesterday?”

  “He thanked me,” said Hune. “Explicitly. I don’t think he’d ever done that in his life. Kansten, how did you know?”

  “That you should go to him? You knew it more than me, I’d think. It was in every taut line of your face.” Kansten paused, wondering if she dared to ask the question in her mind. She did. “What did you do for him?”

  “I wrote a speech, to welcome the Traiglanders.”

  Kansten grinned. “I could have done that. Wouldn’t have been as fancy, but Traiglanders aren’t fancy people. They’re simple folk.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “Not in itself, no. But they’re too simple. So simple it makes them soft.”

  Hune admitted, “I don’t see you at home in Traigland. You’re a bit too… spirited.”

  Kansten felt her grin widen. “Well, that was diplomatic.”

  “Would you rather I speak plainly?”

  “Why shouldn’t you?”

  “No insult to Traigland, but from the little I know of you, your strengths are suited to Herezoth. You’re brash. A quick thinker. Bold to a fault, and loyal to those close to you. That’s everything you need to thrive in this place.”

  “Perhaps,” said Kansten. “But still…. Can I speak plainly too?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “What I’ve seen of Herezoth is beautiful. That Palace you live in, it’s a marvel. I went out to the gardens here last night, with August and her children, and there’s nothing to compare to that in Traigland. Nothing, at least, that I know of. The thing is, I’m not blinded by pomp and glitz. Not prone to flattery because something looks nice or someone’s powerful. You picked up on that, and you hardly know me.”

  Hune’s tone was one of protest. “You made it fairly obvious.”

  Was that an insult? A simple observation? Kansten chose to consider it the latter. “I can appreciate beauty for what it is, and like I said, Herezoth’s beautiful. What’s at its core, though? Hatred. Great love as well, but the hatred’s just as strong. I knew that before I came, in my head, but I guess I needed to experience it for myself. To be here, to feel it pulsing all around me like…. This place is filled with anger. With festering resentment. It almost makes me long for Traigland again. I never once imagined I’d….”

  Hune told her, “Herezoth, in general, it’s more peaceful than it is at the moment. Won’t you give it a fighting chance? I know it denied one to your mother, and would to you, if people knew who you were and that you’d come here. Be bigger than the hatred. Our raw talent, the hard resolve of our people: those are things you won’t find elsewhere. If people as strong and decent as you and your family walk away, then Herezoth’s done for.”

  Kansten peered into the prince’s eyes. His pleas unsettled her, and his anxiety-filled gaze all the more so. She told him, “I don’t matter to Herezoth, Hune. I’ve been here two days.”

  “This kingdom needs every sensible citizen it can find. Each person who recognizes that the hatred destroys us, that factions achieve division and nothing more….”

  “I don’t belong here.”

  “But you should belong, am I right? Your mother, she should be able to return here. Should have raised you here.”

  “Of course.”

  “So you should belong. If you feel you don’t, use that as motivation. Combat the hatred you mentioned in what small ways you can. Encourage others to do likewise, and one day, you might notice you’ve created a place for yourself. Isn’t that worth striving for? Don’t you admire Vane? That’s what he’s been doing these last ten years.”

  Kansten insisted, “I’ve no place at court. No seat on any council.”

  “You’re Kora Porteg’s daughter. How can you not realize how significant that is? Your mother’s a symbol, Kansten. A cause. Be it just or unjust, accepted or begrudged by you, you’re a part of that. Do you honestly think it’s a coincidence that this, this atrocity in the making came to light just when you’d arrived on our soil?”

  Kansten’s eyes grew wide. “Of course it’s a coincidence! One more example of my cursed bad luck.”

  “I know nothing about your luck,” Hune said. “But I beg you, don’t resolve today to leave after your apprenticeship. Don’t predispose yourself to take Herezoth’s tensions to heart. That’s all I’m asking. Give this place the chance it doesn’t deserve to set roots in your soul.”

  The prince’s last words struck Kansten like a blow to the chest. She drew in a sharp breath. “You admit Herezoth doesn’t deserve a chance with me?”

  “I do,” said Hune. “Now and only now, before you and no one else, I admit that freely.”

  His disclaimer was a warning. He was Herezoth’s prince. Third in line for the throne, but nonetheless, a prince, and if Kansten were to tell a soul what he had spoken about his father’s kingdom…. He trusted her to keep her silence. Be he brave or a halfwit, daring or a fool, he judged her presence in Herezoth so important that he’d allowed her to witness him denounce the realm.

  “I’ll reserve my judgment. For now.”

  Hune shook her hand with a relieved expression on his face. The tension in his frame remained, though, even increased as the clock on the mantel, below the portrait of Vane’s parents, struck the hour. Three. The prince scowled in frustration.

  “I have to leave. Valkin needs me at the Palace, and I wasn’t able to see August. Will you tell her I came? That if she needs a thing, she need only name it?”

  Kansten agreed to relay the message. She assured Hune that August would persevere through anything she must, and the prince nodded his thanks before rushing from the
room, his shining boots giving him a heavy step. Kansten settled back in her armchair, her heart pounding.

  At least there’s someone in the world convinced where I belong, because I haven’t the slightest inclination one way or the other. I should try harder to like this place, though. He was right about that. So what if I don’t fit in? I’ve never fit in anywhere.

  Her head was reeling to think she had passed such a personal conversation, not merely with a near stranger, but with a prince. He was kind to take an interest in her as he’d done. His advice, his concern, nothing about them had seemed pedantic or arrogant, as though he thought he knew better and she needed his instruction. He had spoken to her as an equal: no orders, no drawing out a simple explanation as though she couldn’t follow his arguments.

  Herezoth was, literally, the focus of his existence, and that of every member of his family. He deemed her good opinion of the place and its people to be worth something. The thought made her shut her eyes, for vertigo.

  He’s a normal man, he really is. I never would have thought…. That twiggish kid who cried buckets when that snake bit his brother, that’s the same person. I guess he’s always liked animals. Known a lot about them. He couldn’t have been more than eight or nine, and he identified the snake as poisonous. He knew the….”

  “Uncle Zac!”

  Kansten’s gray-eyed, dark-haired uncle had eased the door open. When that failed to make noise he’d cleared his throat to announce his presence, and Kansten’s eyes popped open to see his face turned more angular than normal, in an expression of concern. He held his bearded chin in his hand. “Ran into your brothers in the hall,” he said. “They told me you’d been speaking with Hune. That’d you’d met him already.”

  “At the Palace,” said Kansten. “Day I got here.”

  Zacry nodded, and took a seat on a settee opposite his niece. He kept his voice merely curious. No commanding tone, no note of worry was present, though anxiety lined his mouth. “I know Hune and his brothers. They’re the height of respectability.”

  Kansten smiled. “One would hope. Got quite the regal air, that eldest one. He’ll make a fine king someday.”

  “So would any of Rexson’s sons. They get on together, instead of thinking they need to be rivals. Make things a damn sight easier for the lot of them. What do you make of Hune?”

  “He’s refreshingly easy to talk to.”

  Kansten bit her lip as her uncle warned, “Don’t get it in your head he….”

  “Good heavens, Uncle Zac! What do you think, I’d delude myself into having feelings for the man? I’ve seen where he lives, and as lovely as I found that hut he calls a home, I don’t see myself growing comfortable there. You know me. Need my space.”

  She laughed at her joke, surprised to find the gesture stung her lungs. She cut off her chuckle a bit more sharply than she intended, and Zacry leaned forward.

  “Don’t you spend time with him and his brothers. You don’t want to grow attached. I know what lives they lead. There’s no room in their futures for someone like you.”

  Kansten crossed her arms. “If you think for a minute I’m so arrogant I’d imagine a prince could want….”

  Zacry maintained his patience, but his voice grew terse. “I don’t think you’re prideful,” he corrected. “I think you’re a sensible woman who knows quite well what traits make a man honorable. Hune’s intelligent, well-spoken, and has a sharply defined sense of integrity. Any feelings you develop will only cause you pain.”

  The man meant well. He did. But if he thought he could tell Kansten whom to speak with…. She declared, “I understand what his life is.”

  “Do you understand your mother loved Rexson? She’s probably never told you that, but he loved her as well. You weren’t on a boat with Kora for four solid weeks after she lost him to the crown through no fault of either one of theirs. I was. I saw what she went through, and I’ll be damned if that happens to her daughter, or Rexson’s son. I know Hune better than you’d think from my work on the Magic Council. Under different circumstances…. Keep away, Kansten. For his sake as much as yours.”

  Kansten chortled. “I hardly think a prince would lose sleep over someone like me.”

  Zacry found the suggestion less ludicrous. He smiled, subtly, with no joy in his eyes. “You’re as stubborn as I am, you know that? Guess it’s time I was repaid for all the torment I gave my sister as a kid.”

  Kansten said, “It doesn’t matter, Uncle Zac. I doubt I’ll have another chance to speak with him, whether I want to or no.” A pang struck Kansten to remember how abruptly her conversation with Hune had ended. She wished he hadn’t needed to dart off.

  The perception in Zacry’s gaze was too keen for Kansten’s liking. She transitioned to another subject with what grace as she could muster, which meant none at all. Her question sounded abrupt even to her ears, and she understood how she hit upon her topic. She and Hune had discussed Herezoth: its virtues and its vices, its place in their lives. Why not speak of the same with her uncle?

  “Why do you still come here, after so many years? Why are you still on that council?”

  “I joined the council because Vane needed me. That was a rocky time for him, beginning his public life. We worried he might not survive it.”

  “Apparently he almost didn’t,” Kansten said.

  “He needed me to have his back, so I stepped up. Told myself it would only be for a year or two, until things settled down for him and he established himself at court. With Rexson’s full support, which I knew he’d have…. It only took a year, actually. That estimate was right. By that time, though, the Magic Council had started discussions to found our school.”

  “Magicked and non-magicked children, learning together. Living together.”

  “It was a worthy project. An important first step, and they would need me to collaborate on the sorcery curriculum, if nothing else. We would get the school open in another two years, so I said I’d resign once the school was up and running. Well, it took a bit longer, and by that point Rexson had a habit of discussing other matters with me.”

  Kansten’s eyes grew wide. “Matters like what Vane’s doing now?”

  “Of course not. Nothing clandestine. At least, nothing darkly so, so get that out of your head this instant.”

  Kansten grinned. “That’s precisely what you’d tell me if you were the king’s assassin.” Zacry rolled his eyes, and Kansten said, “Relax. You’re not the assassin type. Would have gotten yourself killed on your first assignment. Subtletly’s not your specialty, Uncle Zac. Nor stealth, though to be fair, you almost gave me a heart attack when you came in here.”

  “Talking like that, you’d deserve it if I had,” he said. Kansten saw the twinkle in his eye, a fresh twinkle, and never doubted he jested.

  She pressed, “What’s the king have you do, then?”

  “He asks my advice about touchy political matters, ones involving magic. I’ve taken his sons to Hogarane, so they could see the village I was born in. Could have it be something concrete in their minds. I’ve also spoken at length with the crown prince about sorcery, its power and limitations. He needs to understand sorcery, and fully, if he’s to rule Herezoth. Vane could have taught him, but Vane’s so blasted busy day in and day out….”

  “What else have you done?”

  “I’ve made quick repairs around the Palace and the Temple, with my magic. I keep the council’s school protected with new spells every so often. I’ve made the prisons in Yangerton and Podrar more secure. I’ve kept telling myself, two more months, five more weeks, after this is done…. And I never leave. I’m starting to doubt I ever will. Returning to Hogarane had a powerful effect on me. To see the changes there, how it’s thriving…. I felt responsible to do my part to keep the village growing, when it gave so much to me in my early years.”

  “And how exactly can you do that through the council?”

  “Our latest project, it’s a museum about magic. It’s neither to hide so
rcery’s abuses nor understate the blessings magic’s brought to the realm. I convinced the crown we should build it in Hogarane, out of tribute to Brenthor. He settled in that area after helping his king put down Hansrelto’s Revolt all those centuries ago. Know much about him?”

  Kansten said, “He was the head of the Sorcerers’ Court. After Hansrelto, he lived in hiding from hateful crazies for the rest of his life. Hid from the people he’d fought to protect. We only discovered this century where he actually went after his victory.” She paused. “I’ve read your history books, you know.”

  Zacry smiled in approbation. “Wish Viola would.” His daughter, eleven years old. His two children felt no desire to study the history and lore of multiple kingdoms. Since they lived in Traigland, and had their mother’s dark skin and hair, theirs was a Traiglander’s education up to the moment. Zacry had not yet begun to teach them spells, for both had inherited his sorcery.

  “Leaving the council when the museum’s settled, then?” Kansten asked.

  “Perhaps,” Zacry conceded. Kansten knew he was lying. Hune’s voice echoed in her brain.

  Herezoth grips a person. How content are your parents, your uncle, in Traigland? I’m sure their lives are comfortable enough, but don’t they long for something else? Somewhere else?

  The prince had spoken true. For good or ill, this kingdom where her parents had been children—this place her mother would have died for in her time with the Crimson League, the place her uncle couldn’t bring himself to forsake—it would never leave her be. It had already touched her soul, through Hune’s pleas on its behalf.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Terrance Returns

  When Vane returned to Partsvale, he found Francie awake with a closed book at arm’s length. She made a startling sight, now that the bruises around her eyes had turned a vivid shade of navy and the scratches on her cheek had swollen. The swelling in her lip, at least, had diminished. She indicated the cheaply bound, inexpertly printed volume she had laid aside.