Strangely, Kharqa seemed to take a liking to Itholera, who was simply too gentle and kind to express her distrust towards the woman openly (unlike Aasimah, who never bothered to hide her true feelings in the slightest).
To the prince's horror, his father took note of Kharqa's rather obvious favoring of the servants and offered Itholera to her as a sort of consolation gift. Once Kharqa accepted the offer, Itholera became secluded to her side of the palace. Not even Aasimah had heard from her since that agreement.
Adsuni, too, felt deeply restricted. He had less freedom than ever before, and found himself completely isolated from what few friends he possessed. He thought he was strong enough to handle it, but after being separated from his only friends, he felt himself beginning to grow mad.
Should he manage to run into either Aasimah or albeit rarely, Itholera, neither of them would speak a word to him. They merely kept their heads down and busied themselves with whatever tasks they were given.
It was as if he simply ceased to exist. No one spoke to him. He was not allowed to leave the palace, unless explicitly ordered to do so for a council meeting, and even then, he often found himself no longer in attendance due to threats of violence from the commonfolk outside. There was always an excuse as to why he could not leave.
At this point, he almost wished he could sit in a stuffy chamber with a group of bitter and greedy old farts arguing amongst themselves. He wondered what they were even doing with their time now that they had a real conflict on their hands!
He didn't wonder for too long, as the prince was certain that should an uprising commence, the councilors would merely hide in their mansions behind a wall of hired guards, men whose blood they would happily sacrifice.
Aasimah, too, became quite isolated. She was no longer allowed to interact directly with the prince or with Glanen. She was told by King Zaeem that he feared his son would forget his station in life; he had come to see Aasimah and Itholera as equals, and that would simply not do. The future King of Dinavhek must know his place, as must his servants.
The first time they ran into each other since that meeting, Lady Kharqa happened to catch sight of them and coldly sent Aasimah on her way, allowing her glare to linger upon the younger woman as she departed. Kharqa magnanimously offered to keep this little interaction between herself and the prince. Adsuni said not a word, opting instead to retreat back to his study.
With nothing else to do with his time, Adsuni found himself lost in his thoughts. He skimmed through every book in his collection, hoping he might find some information on the non-human races he'd heard so much, and yet, so little about. He though back to the strange conversation that he and Aasimah overheard from the workshop. Beast-folk... That was the only race he was aware of that had no information on it.
The prince recalled Konrad's words during that dinner meeting:“I beg your pardon, my king, but don't you think that might be a bad idea, in the long run? If attempts are being made on his life, the prince should know why.”
But were attempts being made on his life? The most recent attack did occur within the city limits. It happened far closer to the capital than Dre'shii had been, that much was true, yet the prince doubted he was the intended target. The men Glanen felled were primarily targeting civilians, seemingly without a solid motive.
Or were they?
The Knighthood's reputation suffered from that attack. It took too long for them to mobilize, and once the fight itself was over, they left without a care to those who might be in urgent need of help. The prince knew of at least one person who had died after the battle, a little girl who had been trapped underneath a fallen beam. Her parents were among the protesters outside, for they had begged the knights for help directly and were ignored.
Adsuni found that he really couldn't blame the protesters. He thought of Raisa and how devastated he would be if the little girl he'd come to know were to suffer the same fate.
As the prince began writing his next letter to her, commending her on her growth (for he'd been secretly helping her mother teach her to read and write), he thought, too, of the little boy Konrad imprisoned.
Perhaps the time had come for him to confront his father. He found the courage to do so once before, surely he could muster up the courage to do so again.
The prince gazed out of the window of his study with a sense of foreboding. Already, the leaves of all the trees were changing colors, and the varied shades of green, gold, and red made Aranaot look deceptively peaceful amidst the chaos.
Though it was out of the way, the prince couldn't help but to stop by his mother's workshop on his way to his father's quarters. He half-hoped to find Aasimah there, but the dusty old room remained as empty as it always was, save for the ghosts of the past that would forever haunt its walls, tools, and toys. Adsuni used to avoid that room the way he might avoid someone carrying the plague.
Even Glanen had not been in that room before. His life-long friend knew of its existence, and the servants knew to avoid it. Beyond that, the workshop was to be the prince's little secret. At least, his and his father's. It was the only area of the palace that remained untouched over the years.
But now, the prince needed guidance. In that room, he could never be truly alone. He wondered what his mother would think of all of the events that had taken place over the past several months. Would she be proud of her son, or would she admonish him for his disobedience and recklessness? Would she wish for her husband to move on, and to find love elsewhere, or would she want him to hold her in his memory for eternity, as she waited patiently for him in the afterlife?
Adsuni suspected that he would never be able to move on if he lost someone he loved dearly, and that there would be no replacing his beloved wife. However, he was not his father, and who was he to deny him the chance for a new partner, even if he didn't approve of the woman in question? First impressions were important, but they weren't everything. Aasimah distrusted him initially, but he was certain that, even if she wouldn't yet admit it, she'd grown to see him as a friend.
Maybe he was wrong about Lady Kharqa.
Maybe his father truly saw something in her that he had yet to see.
The prince ran his fingers along the measuring pole along the wall, absentmindedly at first. It took him a moment to realize what he was doing, and when he did, he couldn't bring himself to stop. The dashes on the wall represented periods of his childhood when he grew – physically, anyway. How might one measure the growth of a man? Was he really a man now, or was he still a lost, helpless boy?
He thought back to that day that he and Itholera toured the market, back to that terrible scene of his own guards accosting that poor child. Konrad wasn't nearly as disturbed by the scene as any good man should be, and that worried him. How many seemingly 'good' people in his life were turning a blind eye to wanton cruelty? Were any of them actively supporting it behind his back?
“I don't know who I am anymore,” Adsuni whispered in confession. He didn't know who he was speaking to, at first, until he heard the sound of boots shuffling against the hard floor. He half-turned to see who it was that decided to join him. Expecting to see Aasimah, he was alarmed and a bit embarrassed to see his father standing before him instead.
“You are my son,” the king said simply, “and the future of Dinavhek.”
The old man continued to shuffle around, trying to find a place to sit down. He wasn't as strong as he used to be, and it was apparent to Adsuni that his age was finally starting to catch up to him. Or was he like this all along, and the prince simply hadn't noticed until now?
“You think you know everything,” old man Zaeem grumbled.
“Father—”
“—You grow up, thinking you know what you were told. You think the world's this way, and it ends up being the other way. You think you know what's best. You know what you're meant to do. You have your whole life planned out, every last bit of it. Will of the Goddess and all! You think you're going to have a daughter. 'I just have a feel
ing,' she says!”
Adsuni blinked and looked to his father questioningly, wondering what he was ranting about. He decided not to say anything and to merely watch and listen.
“And you start thinking about how you're going to feel when your daughter starts getting older, old enough to start feeling things. You start feeling glad that you've a wife to handle that. Then you have a son! And you know you're not off the hook anymore, now you're going to be the one having to do the talking. Then... then you lose her, and that's it, you're alone! And when your child reaches that age where he starts asking questions, you thank the goddess that you were wrong before.”
“Would you have loved me any less, were I your daughter and not your son?” Adsuni asked, not understanding his father's message.
“No! Of course not! But you see, I had no on else to rely on. When your mother... when we lost her, you were all I had left. I thought I would know how to talk to you,” the king confessed, pulling up a chair and settling down in it. He looked up at his son and his eyes were full of remorse. “I thought you'd be easy. I thought I was prepared for any questions you might have growing up, but you never asked me those questions. Now, you're asking questions I don't know how to answer. Questions I don't think I can answer.”
Adsuni moved to lean against his mother's worktable, eyeing his father as though he were seeing him for the first time. “Then you can't tell me whether I have grown, father? You cannot tell me whether I am on the right path or not?”
Zaeem held up his puffy hands in defeat. “Would that I could, lad. Would that I could. Only you can do that.”
The prince sighed and looked down at his feet as they traced circles in the floor.
“I can't tell you whether you're a man or not, my boy. That is something only you can judge for yourself. All I can tell you is that you have your mother's heart, and as long as you have that, I don't think you're capable of being anything but a good man.”
“But not a good prince?”
“There's no such thing as a good prince, son. Or a good king. There's a reason good men don't become kings.”
“But you're a good man,” Adsuni countered.
His father laughed wryly.
“You don't know the half of it! By all measures, you're a better man than I was at your age. Or now, even. I see you making choices I never would have made. Sneaking off to visit a peasant village and build houses? I'd never have been caught dead doing that! Oh, you needn't justify yourself,” the king added as Adsuni began to interrupt, “I wouldn't have done it, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't have.”
Adsuni bowed his head, unable to speak for the lump he felt forming in his throat.
His father reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a wrinkled envelope. The prince recognized it immediately, as he had been careful not to use his own signet ring to close it lest he give himself away.
“Father, I can explain—”
“No need, I'll have this sent out first thing in the morning, son.”
They sat in silence for a good, long while. King and prince – no, father and son. They could hear the soft pattering of feet as mice skittered about unseen. Moths fluttered around, their wings rustled noisily. After a moment, they could hear Glanen's booming voice from the entrance of the palace. Neither of them could make out exactly what he was saying, but there was no mistaking it.
“That would be Sir Glanen,” King Zaeem said softly.
“He'll probably be looking for us,” Adsuni said.
“Then we'll just have to keep quiet now, won't we?”
They both turned to look at each other, and for the first time in years, Adsuni caught a glimmer of mischief in his father's eyes, and a wide grin spread across his face. They both chuckled as quietly as they could manage, and Adsuni felt his father's arm wrap around his shoulders, pulling him close to his side.
“We need to have a talk. It will be a hard one,” he warned.
Adsuni was certainly apprehensive, but he couldn't change his mind now, could he? He'd already asked for answers, and he would have to accept them.
“Let's talk, then,” he said with a small nod.
***
Glanen found Aasimah hunched over on the ground, wiping away at the tile floor with a tattered rag dampened with soapy water. Lady Kharqa had taken away some of the tools Aasimah and Itholera frequently used for cleaning, insisting that they had too much spare time, and that they were there to work, not relax. Of course, there was nothing remotely relaxing about their lives at the palace, for they worked from the time they awoke to the time they fell asleep, but she would not be persuaded otherwise.
Glanen thought back to his days when he was a boy starting his training at the Academy, and it was his job to maintain the households of the older knights. The work was difficult and unpleasant, but he didn't have to take nearly so much abuse from those he served under as Aasimah and Itholera. He didn't know how they managed to be so calm and accepting of their treatment.
“Milady,” the young knight said, greeting her.
“Sir Knight,” she said in acknowledgment, frowning a little. He wasn't supposed to be talking to her! Did he understand the risk he was taking in doing so, or the vile ways in which she might be punished if they were spotted?
“Is the prince around?” Glanen asked.
“I haven't seen him.”
“I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Well, if you see him... Would you tell him that I stopped by?”
Aasimah looked away from him, focusing on her task of scrubbing the tile grout. “You know I can't do that.”
“Is this really how it's supposed to be, now? We just pretend that we don't know each other?” Glanen asked, exasperated.
“What else are we supposed to do?” Aasimah snapped. “What do you think is going to happen to me if I'm caught talking to you?”
Glanen had no real answer to that, and they both knew it.
“Do you at least have an idea of where the prince might be?” he asked.
Aasimah rose slightly, rolling over onto her knees and dropping the rag to the floor. “I thought I saw him heading for the workshop earlier. He could still be in there. He's not allowed to leave the palace anymore, so it's not like he could have gone very far. Has something happened?”
“Yes. Forgive me, but that's all I can say right now.”
Aasimah sighed and rose to her feet.
“Let's go, then,” she said, leading the way. “But if you're leading me into another battle...”
Glanen grinned.
“You've only been involved in three fights with me, counting that pub brawl.”
Aasimah pinched the bridge of her nose.
“I swear, every time I go somewhere with you, something happens!”
The knight waved a dismissive hand.
“Lead the way,” he said, taking a bit too much pleasure out of her feigned annoyance.
“There are but a handful of people who know of this, my son. You must never tell anyone, not even Glanen,” King Zaeem was saying.
Adsuni practically clung to his every word, taking it all in as though he were dying of thirst, and this was to be his last cup of water. There was so much he desired – no, needed to know! So many questions unanswered.
“Tell me,” he bade his father.
“There was another race that lived alongside us in Dinavhek, some three hundred years ago. As far as everyone else is concerned, this race died out naturally – millennia ago. The truth is, our ancestors exterminated them.”
Adsuni froze.
“What do you mean?”
“We killed them, the same way we kill the goblins, trolls, elgnyr, and all of those other monsters.”
“We haven't driven any of them to extinction, father.”
“We haven't done so yet,” Zaeem said.
The prince stared at his father with wide eyes. How could this man be speaking so easily, so casually of wiping out an entire species?
“Are we trying to do
that, father?”
Zaeem cleared his throat, uncomfortable with being put on the spot. He met his son's accusing stare with his own blank one.
“No, but Takirar is, and I will not stand idly by and allow Dinavhek to be caught in the crossfire. Should Takirar call upon us for help, we will give it. My personal feelings matter not where the fate of our country is concerned.”
“Father, this is...”
“A shock, I know, but you have questions, and you deserve to have them answered. Now, you need to know the history of our family. Of our kingdom. If you are going to take my place someday, you must know about our enemies.”
Adsuni settled down, then, and let his father drone on about the history of their people. As he went deeper into the subject, the prince found himself sick to his stomach. In the end, he was left with even more questions, and none of them he felt safe asking.
The king clapped a thick hand on the prince's shoulder before leaving him alone in the workshop to ponder. Though he said nothing in return, Adsuni was certain he knew what the gesture meant: He was all his father had left.
Chapter 20
Feral Eyes
∞∞∞
“Has everyone in this kingdom gone mad? If I didn't personally know either of them, I would think them raving lunatics!”
“Hush,” Aasimah warned. It was more for her own sake than his; her heart was racing, pounding mercilessly in her chest. She felt dizzy and weak, and she feared she would soon collapse.
As she heard the king describe these so-called “beast folk,” she considered her own appearance. She thought back to old man Falysto, to their wandering group, to all the secrecy and paranoia she had been raised with. So this was the secret he died trying to protect her from!
She began to wonder if Glanen might also be piecing together clues of his own. He hadn't been able to hear as much of their conversation and relied upon Aasimah to fill in the gaps. So she told him just enough to have a basic understanding of what they'd overheard.
Dinavhek- The Fall Page 22