by CK Dawn
“Nothing said here today is to get out.” The King surveyed his council. “Not until we find the traitors. Understood?”
The dukes nodded as they trickled out, leaving Trystan with only his father and his uncle.
“Why was I not told before of the extent of the problems our people are facing? I still think it’s wrong to feast when the people are set to starve.” Trystan clenched his fists down by his sides and tried to keep his tone even. The King may have been his father, but he was still the king.
It was his uncle who answered. “Dreach-Dhoun must not see us in such dire straits, Your Highness.”
Trystan blew out a long breath. “And what about what our people see?”
“Son.” The King tried to put a reassuring arm around him, but he moved out of reach. “The matter is done.”
“Unbelievable.” Trystan yanked the door open and marched out into the hall, almost colliding with Davion.
Davion stumbled back as if hit and then dropped into a low bow. “I’m sorry, my prince. Next time you’re charging around the castle like a headless horse, I’ll be sure to stay out of your way.” There was a twinkle in his eye as he raised his head.
“Idiot.” Trystan crossed his arms over his chest and glanced behind him to make sure his father or uncle hadn’t followed him out.
“Why are you in such a foul humor?” Davi asked. “I thought it was your lifelong dream to sit in with the dull and duller.”
“I should have you whipped for insolence.”
“Could work, if your father allowed whipping.”
“We could always start.” Trystan shrugged.
“You wound me, Your Highness.” He held his hands over his heart and threw his head back.
“Can you be serious for a moment?”
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” he sighed. “Just a prince following his orders.”
“Well, soon you’ll be a Toha following his orders.” Davi smirked.
“Don’t remind me.” Trystan ran a hand over the top of his head. “I need a drink.”
A slow smile spread across Davi’s lips. “You’re a mind reader. I’ll bet you some of the guests are in the main hall. I was trying to find Alixa earlier.”
“Who?” Trystan asked.
“She’s the Duke of Isenore’s daughter. We have yet to meet. The rumor is she’s a true beauty, but a wild thing.”
“Sounds like your kind of woman.”
Davi shrugged. “Female is my kind of woman.”
“I’ll be sure to pass that on to my sister.” Trystan laughed, letting it release some of the tension he’d been carrying.
Davi sighed. “Rissa only likes the familiar. She’s young, she doesn’t know any better.”
“She’s only two years younger than us.”
“Ri is special, Trystan. You know it as well as I. But she’s a princess. I’d never let myself go down such a route.”
They entered the hall where many of their guests were playing dice, drinking, and listening to the fiddler.
“That’s a good thing.” Trystan nudged him. “Because it looks like she’s hitting it off with one of the young noblemen who arrived today.”
Davi followed Trystan’s gaze and when he stiffened beside him, Trystan patted him on the back before going to grab a drink.
Three
Rissa was sitting in the castle gardens, her favorite place to be, even if they were no longer lush and green. The loss of magic affected the castle grounds as well, and that which once thrived now lay brown and dull. Even so, the gardens had a calming effect on her; a soothing balm to her raw nerves. She seemed to suffer from nerves more and more these days after being around Davion. Deep in thought, a wrapped parcel clutched tight to her chest, she didn’t hear footsteps approach until a quiet cough interrupted her. Turning around, she found her good friend, Willow, whose father was the Duke of Aldorwood.
“Hi Willow,” Rissa said cheerfully. “What brings you out here so early?”
“I wanted to find you actually.” She shifted from one foot to the next and it was only then that Rissa noticed she was carrying something.
“Well.” Rissa laughed. “Why are you all jittery? It’s not like you, unless … oh, this has to do with my brother, doesn’t it?”
The other girl’s cheeks reddened and she looked down, her blonde curls falling in her face. Willow was the most beautiful girl she knew. Her perfect skin was pale and unmarked by the sun. Her soft hair was long and smooth. Gowns tended to hug her slender waist to perfection. And yet, Trystan never seemed to notice.
Their father and Willow’s had been hoping for a wedding, officially combining the two families. Willow had the poise and intelligence to sit beside Trystan on the throne. Still, something had always been missing and it was obvious to everyone besides Willow.
“I have a present for him,” she said shyly.
Rissa’s grin widened. “Let’s see it, then.”
She held it out and Rissa uncovered a beautiful portrait of Trystan sitting atop his horse, his armor gleaming in the sun. He raised a sword above his head.
“Did you paint this?” Rissa asked.
Willow nodded.
“You’ve gotten so good.” She looked up and met her friend’s eyes. “He’s going to love it.”
“You think so?”
“Of course. Honestly, you could’ve left him out of it and just painted the sword.” She laughed. “He loves that thing.”
Willow laughed finally, relief rolling off her in waves. “You’ll take it to him?”
“You don’t want to come to his rooms with me? I’m going now.”
“Of course not.” Willow’s eyes widened in shock, completely scandalized. She’d been raised by one of the most conservative women in the realm. Rissa was raised by men. That was the difference between them.
Rissa stood and brushed off her skirt before giving her friend a wink and heading towards her brother’s room.
She knocked as she always had. Two raps. Pause. Three raps. He didn’t answer so she pushed her way through and found him sitting on the end of his bed with his head in his hands.
He groaned and she laughed, crossing the room to throw open the curtains.
“Ri –“
“Stop your moaning,” she said. “It’s not my fault you drank enough to fill the sea last night and today’s a big day.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“Where’s Davi?” she asked. “Passed out in some random girl’s bed, I assume.”
“Jealousy isn’t flattering, sis.”
“I’m glad you’re always telling me where my heart lies,” she snapped. “After all, I’m just a poor woman who can’t decide anything for herself.”
Trystan started to laugh and couldn’t seem to stop himself. He leaned back on his bed, trying to catch his breath, and shut his eyes.
Rissa grinned at him. “Happy birthday, big brother.”
Opening one eye, he looked at her. “You know, I think you’re the only person who thinks of today as my birthday and not just the day I become Toha.”
“Not the only one.” She sat across from him and handed him the painting when he sat up fully.
“Willow?”
“Yup.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“You better remember to tell her.”
“I will. Now, what’d you get me?” he asked.
“Greedy, greedy.” She tossed the parcel at him, laughing when it hit him in the chest.
He unwrapped it. “A book of stories?” he asked.
“I figured everything from here on out is going to be about your duty to the people.” She met his eyes. “I wanted to remind you to forget about it sometimes. Disappear into something else and do something for you. Do you remember, you used to love storybooks? You were obsessed with Trystan the Bold.”
“Thank you,” he said quietly, looking down at the book and then back at her with unspoken emotions crossing his face.
“What’s wrong, brother? And don’t tell me it’s nothing because you look like I’ve just thrown your favorite sword down the well or something.”
He chuckled and leaned forward to bury his face in his hands again. “Just thinking.”
“A dangerous endeavor.”
He tilted his head to glare at her and she sighed.
“Trystan.”
He opened his mouth to speak but seemed to rethink his words. “I can’t tell you.”
“And why not?”
“Council stuff.”
She huffed at that.
“Just … it’s bad, Ri. There are things happening that none of us can control.” He groaned. “What if I’m not enough?”
“Of course, you are.”
“I’m about to become the commander of the army and I’ve never been in battle. How am I supposed to help if we are to go to war?”
War? She didn’t know what he was talking about, but she did know her brother. She touched his shoulder lightly. “You’ve been preparing for this your entire life. Just because your sword has never drawn blood, doesn’t mean you aren’t the right person to lead us.”
He sighed. “After today, I wonder if the Toha is all I’ll be. How will it change me?”
Rissa scooted forward and wrapped her arms around her brother’s solid shoulders, squeezing as hard as she could.
“It is the title which must bend to its bearer,” she said, leaning back. “Not the other way around.”
Despite the traditions and expectations of being a royal, Trystan was never one to allow servants to help him dress. He figured if he couldn’t dress himself, then he wasn’t fit to lead his men to war. Because that’s what would be asked of him eventually. It was always there, right on the border, the threat. Eventually, they’d be forced to fight just to survive because the land was no longer providing for them.
His elders said it was the lack of magic creating difficulties for their people. Fairy tales. That’s what it sounded like to him.
He didn’t know magic. He knew the tip of a sword, the taut string of a bow. He knew a starving people and a garden that struggled to bloom.
He pulled the silk shirt over his head. It was blue with gold embroidery. The sleeves puffed out when they reached passed his elbows. Together with the tight-fitting trousers and green jacket, he looked like a popinjay. He glanced at himself in the looking glass as he tied the belt at his waist and shook his head.
He’d rather wear his armor.
But he was a prince, not merely a soldier. He was soon to be Toha, guardian of the realm. Every firstborn son or daughter of the royal family held that title until the day they became king or queen. A day he hoped was a long way off.
The Toha led the realm’s fighting men and traveled far and wide to keep an eye on the defenses.
He sat on the edge of his bed and pulled on his black leather boots. It was almost time. A servant entered the room and attempted to bend down to tie the Prince’s laces, but Trystan waved him away. “Go,” he ordered.
The servant issued a quick bow and practically ran from the Prince’s harsh tone.
With a sigh, Trystan finished tying his laces and stood. He attached his sword to his waist and breathed deeply before stepping from his quarters. Three guards had been waiting outside his door and they formed up behind him without a word.
The halls were quiet as even the servants were in the hall for the ceremony. Rissa came running towards him, her dress twisting about her legs. Its green matched his jacket and set off her deep red hair like a blaze of fire as it danced around her shoulders.
She was out of breath when she caught up to him.
“Ri.” He’d have laughed at her panting had he not been so nervous.
“I wanted to catch you before you reached the hall.” She fell in step beside him and straightened her dress.
Trystan shook his head. His sister was the only woman he knew who would run through the palace in a gown and heels. She was crazy and he was thankful to have her at his side.
“Are you nervous?” she asked.
He just stared at her.
“Right.” She laughed. “Stupid question.” Her feet slowed before they reached the hall and she gripped his arm to make him stop. “You’re going to do great.” She pulled him into a hug and he was quick to return the gesture. “I believe in you.”
When she finally pulled away, there were tears in her eyes. She did her best to wipe them away, but Trystan grabbed her hand. “Sis, don’t cry.”
“It’s just …” She paused and looked him in the eye. “After today, we won’t be just the prince and princess anymore. Just us. Everything’s about to change, isn’t it?”
“We are always changing, Rissa.”
“But I don’t want us to change.” She pointed her finger at herself then to him.
He put a hand on each of her shoulders and bent his head to meet her gaze. “Never. You’ll always be my little sister.”
She smiled and wiped away the remnants of her tears. “Let’s go make you Toha.”
Their father was standing outside the hall with the two dukes and one duchess of the realm. The Duchess of Sona flashed a brilliant smile when she caught sight of them. The Duke of Aldorwood stepped forward to clasp a hand on Trystan’s shoulder. The Duke of Isenore turned to ready himself for their entry.
“Are you ready, my boy?” Lord Coille asked.
“I was born for this,” Trystan answered. It was what they all expected, what they wanted, and the nervousness drifted away as he realized he was stepping into the role he was always meant to play.
His father beamed as he pulled Trystan and Rissa away for a private word. “Son,” he began. “I’m so proud of the man you are becoming. Don’t let anyone ever say you’re not worthy.”
Trystan lifted his chin to meet his father’s eyes and straightened his shoulders, pride giving him a boost of confidence. “Thank you, Father. I will do my best for you. I promise.”
The King smiled and turned to Rissa reaching out to cup her cheek. “And you, my darling girl, are precious without the title.” He looked her from head to toe and smiled. “You look so very much like your mother.”
The King entered the hall first and a hush fell over the audience. Trystan stood in the doorway with his sister by his side. He wished Davi had been allowed to stand with him as well, but only those of noble blood were allowed to take part in the ceremony.
Rissa gave his hand a final squeeze before dropping it and walking forward in time with him. A soft melody drifted through the large hall as every person in the room rose to their feet and trained their eyes on their prince and princess.
Trystan looked straight ahead as the walk seemed to go on forever. His father’s beaming face from before had now turned into the stoic face of the king.
The dukes and duchess followed in close behind with Lord Drake and they all stopped when they reached the front. The entire ceremony was choreographed perfectly. Rissa stepped back and Trystan kneeled on the ground in the place where the stone floor was broken, revealing a small patch of earth.
His knees hit the dirt and he knew he should have felt something, but he didn’t feel the connection with the earth his sister did – no matter how hard he tried.
Once upon a time, all of the people of the realm had a connection – or so he’d been told.
Now it was only symbolic, a relic from long ago.
The dukes, duchess, royal uncle, princess, and king formed up around him.
“We are here today to celebrate our prince taking on a sacred duty,” the King said, raising his voice for all to hear. “The Toha is the second highest position in the land. He controls the armies, but that is the least of his responsibilities. He protects us from those who would destroy our way of life. I held the position of Toha before becoming king, but it was a different time, and I failed. We lost a lot in my time and it’s time I pass the mantle to one who is worthier than me – my son.”
The King looked
down on Trystan. “Are you prepared to take on this responsibility?”
“I am,” Trystan answered.
“Will you do what is necessary to keep the people safe?”
“I will.”
“Are you prepared to sacrifice and give everything to the role?”
“I am.”
“Even if it means your life?”
“Yes.”
“Will you trust those in your command? Will you listen and reason?”
“I will.”
The King finally smiled. “Prince Trystan Marcus Renauld of Dreach-Sciene, you are charged with providing hope, guidance, and skill. You are charged with the guardianship of this realm, from the Isle of Sona to the mountains of Isenore to the forests of Aldorwood. You knelt as a prince. Now rise as Toha.”
Trystan patted the earth and got to his feet.
The King pulled a sword from the scabbard at his waist and held the blade in his palms as he extended it towards Trystan. Trystan sucked in a breath as he took the sword. It was magnificent. It was balanced perfectly - sturdy, yet light. The hilt was made of gold that snaked up the blade. On the gold hilt was the image of a tree surrounded by symbols he didn’t understand.
Trystan removed his own sword, the one he’d had for years. It too was a beauty. He knew the next moment was crucial. He was supposed to choose someone to bestow his sword upon, a prince’s sword. A man who would become his second in command. There were no rules, but tradition stated it would be someone with noble blood in their veins. His father had suggested the Duke of Isenore’s son, as he’d one day be one of the most powerful nobles.
That was the plan, anyway. In that moment, Trystan knew there was only one man worthy. Only one man he wanted at his side.
His feet carried him across the hall, past the Duke of Isenore’s son. Past the other young nobles who had been given seats near the front of the hall. The servants sat further down and among them was the man he considered his brother.
He was loyal and skilled, honest and brave.
A gasp reverberated around the room as Trystan stopped and stepped around a girl sitting on the end of the row. He extended his old sword towards Davion.