by N. C. Hayes
“How did you come to be a council member in Sylvanna?” I asked.
“That is a very long story,” Aydan said.
I was about to press further when loud voices rang out from the other room. Aydan frowned and stood, and I scrambled to my feet to follow him through the door, toward the commotion.
~
Upon entering the parlor, we could see that Princess Irsa was standing in the foyer near the door with her arms crossed, arguing with Elise.
“Your Highness, I cannot allow you—”
“Allow me? I’ve never—”
“Irsa, will you please stop accosting my servants?” Aydan stepped into the foyer to join his sister and Elise, while I remained near the door to the kitchen.
Irsa scowled at him, while Elise’s face remained indifferent. He turned to her and said, “Thank you, Elise. I’ll take it from here.” She curtsied and swiftly left the room.
“She is very rude,” said Irsa once Elise was gone.
“She was following my orders,” Aydan replied.
“Well, then you are very rude.” Irsa sniffed before walking past him and into the parlor. Aydan followed.
The princess looked around, touching the picture frames and knickknacks around the room as she walked by them, then finally lowered herself onto one of the cream-colored sofas. Aydan produced a goblet of wine and handed it to her. She raised it in thanks before taking a long drink.
“You certainly know how to make an entrance,” she said, smirking at him. He rolled his eyes. “The Wayward Prince has finally returned to court.”
“Lady Shaye, allow me to formally introduce you to my sister, Crown Princess Irsa of Medeisia,” he said. I bowed my head hoping my face didn’t reveal my surprise at hearing her title. Nautia did not allow women to inherit the throne; it hadn’t crossed my mind that the princess would be first in line before Aydan. Irsa acknowledged me briefly with a curt nod.
“Father is irate, I hope you know.” She turned her attention back to her twin, cradling the goblet with delicate fingers, the dark polish of her nails gleaming against the metal.
“The death threats hinted as much,” Aydan said. He motioned for me to sit in one of the cushioned chairs while he took the space next to Irsa on the sofa. “If he would call off his dogs and stop tracking me, we would have been in Sylvanna and out of his hair a week ago.” Without looking, Aydan handed me a new goblet of wine, then summoned a tumbler for himself filled with amber liquid.
“He has his reasons.” Irsa’s shrewd eyes trailed over me. “I suppose you were telling the truth and Miss Redfern here truly knows nothing?”
“I just told her the story,” Aydan said, “and it’s Lady Eastly. She doesn’t use Redfern.”
“She won’t use ‘lady’ either,” Irsa said after another sip. “Father just revoked her title. Sorry.” She added flatly in my direction.
“She’s committed no crime,” Aydan said incredulously. “He didn’t even revoke Lord Ronan’s title after being charged with treason, and he revokes the one sliver of privilege this woman has?”
“He’s being decisive. Ronan’s trial was difficult for him. It was a lot to unravel.”
“He’s grown cruel since last I saw him.”
“He’s not cruel, he just—” She paused, considering her words. “He, the council—and myself, frankly—are concerned that the appearance of Lord Ronan’s long-lost daughter could stir up more unrest.”
“More?” Aydan frowned. “Ayzelle is struggling with rebels? Again?”
Irsa sat up, looking defensive as she set her goblet on a nearby end table. She smoothed out her skirts and turned to face Aydan fully, “Yes, again, Aydan, likely because our military is under lock and key in a rebellious territory insistent on warding out their own king.”
Aydan raised his eyebrows at the change in tone. “I had nothing to do with the decision, and you know that my Lady did not make it lightly.”
My attention darted between them as they stared each other down in silence. Nearly a full minute passed, and then Irsa suddenly rose to her feet. Aydan stood as well and I followed suit. The princess crossed the parlor with Aydan close behind, while I remained standing, unsure of whether I should stay or leave and let them finish in private. Irsa entered the foyer and spun abruptly to face her brother.
“If you want to know about the state of this court, I suggest making an inquiry more than once a century,” she snapped.
“I’ll take that into consideration,” Aydan said as he opened the door for her. “Good night, Irsa.” Her face turned an impossible shade of red before she stormed out of the chamber and down the corridor. Aydan shut the door and sighed.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “Though, I think that might be record length for a peaceful conversation with my sister.”
“I’m sorry to have caused all of this tension with your family,” I said. Aydan laughed.
“You are certainly not the cause of any tension with my father and sister. There are many decades of bad decisions and broken promises responsible for that.”
“Is that why you went to Sylvanna?” I pried. “To get away from them?”
He sighed and gestured back toward the parlor. “Let’s sit. I’m already drunk, I may as well tell you my story too.”
Chapter Nine
I took a seat in the armchair once again, tucking my legs up underneath myself as I did so. Elise appeared in the doorway.
“Would you like any tea this evening, Your Highness? Lady Shaye?” Was it that late already? The day seemed to fly by and drag on all at once.
“No thanks, Elise.” Aydan raised his glass to indicate he had all he needed. I’d lost track of how much alcohol he’d had in the last few hours, but it seemed he had no plans of stopping tonight.
“I’d love some, please,” I told her. “And it’s just Shaye. Thank you.” Elise nodded and left toward the kitchen.
Aydan and I sat in silence for a moment while he tapped his fingers nervously on the arm of the sofa where he sat. He opened his mouth as if to speak, and then shut it again. He took a long drink from his glass and made it disappear.
“My father, King Zathryan, came to the throne two hundred and fifty years ago, shortly after his six-hundredth birthday,” he started. “His father, my grandfather, had died in the middle of quite the political mess, leaving him to pick up the pieces.
“Sylvanna has had a strained relationship with the Crown for centuries. When Lady Solandis conquered the Tyrant Prince Niklaus, the people of Sylvanna wanted to make her their queen. She refused the title but accepted the responsibility of leading her people as requested. She governed the people of Sylvanna while still taking guidance from the Crown and remaining under Medeisian rule.” I knew most of this from my reading, but to hear it from Aydan directly had me more captivated than any wrinkled page of text could have.
“My great-grandparents, and eventually my grandfather, spent their lives fighting this, and declared Sylvanna a rebel state. There wasn’t much anyone could do without declaring an all-out war, since Sylvanna is on the other end of the continent from the old capital and had a stronger standing military than even the king himself.” The old capital, where the mortal King Callum now sat. It was a source of great pride to the people of Nautia that a militia of just a few hundred mortals, led by Calvin Thandreil and allied with the nearby covens, had overthrown such a powerful regime and started the Thandreil dynasty. I had read about it for years, fascinated by the story. Now I found myself on the other side of it.
Aydan went on. “A centuries-long feud ensued, resulting in Sylvanna isolating from the other territories. When my father inherited the throne, my grandfather had just been in the middle of some negotiations with an emissary from Sylvanna. The Lord and Lady were extending an olive branch, hoping for peace and to expand trade, allowing travel between the Sylvanna and the other territories. My grandfather had been gravely ill for some time and was especially hostile during these negotiations. My father, only cr
own prince at the time, had no choice but to sit and watch while his father ruined an opportunity for peace and prosperity between the Crown and Sylvanna. The Sylvannians nearly withdrew their offer when my grandfather died, and my father rushed to reduce the damage.” Aydan paused as the kitchen door swung open and Elise hurried in with a large tray filled with a tea service.
She quickly and quietly set down the tray and bowed out of the room faster than I could thank her. I poured a cup, noticing she’d brought two despite Aydan’s refusal. He waited patiently while I stirred in honey and milk, and I sat back with my saucer in hand.
“And so, Zathryan did what no king or queen had done in nearly eight hundred years: he traveled to Sylvanna. To negotiate a peace treaty in person.
“It took nearly a year to organize, but after several arguments with his extended council and personal advisors, my father found himself effuging to the Sylvannian border. He was escorted inside by an armed guard, and then greeted in the great hall by Priamos, Solandis, and their daughter: my mother, Astra.”
I felt my eyes widen. Oh. Oh.
Aydan nodded, confirming that I had heard him correctly.
“To hear my mother tell it later, their bond was instant. That night at the ball thrown in his honor, my father kept finding his way back to her. They danced for most of the night, and on each day he spent in Sylvanna, they would walk through the gardens together. He found reasons to extend his stay, though the treaties and trade agreements had long been signed.
“Eventually, my father had to return to the capital. There was a nation to govern, after all. Yet the woman he loved would have to remain in Sylvanna, thousands of miles away from him. My father approached the Lord and Lady and asked their permission to propose marriage to my mother. Solandis refused. She said her daughter was preparing to lead Sylvanna someday, not to be shipped off as a political pawn. My father tried to convince them of his love for my mother, but it wasn’t until Astra herself stormed into the room and pleaded with her parents to allow the marriage that they agreed. My father fell to his knees right there and asked her to marry him.
“My parents’ marriage, despite being a love match, was an enormous political victory, and their wedding day was celebrated in every town and village in Medeisia. The celebrations in the capital are said to have lasted the entire week. Peace had finally been achieved, and prosperity soon followed as trade lines opened between Sylvanna and the other territories of Medeisia. However, what was a time of peace and celebration throughout the continent soon turned into a time of anguish for my parents.
“You see, my father desperately loved my mother. He would have done anything for her, overcome any obstacle to ensure her happiness. But the one thing he couldn’t simply snap his fingers and present to her was the one thing she wanted most in the world: a child. They tried, for years. They saw every healer, took every remedy. After a handful of miscarriages, my mother finally was able to carry a pregnancy to term—only for the child to be stillborn. A boy.”
Aydan sighed and reached for the teacup. He poured his tea, added nothing, then leaned back into his sofa.
“Losing that child nearly destroyed my mother. She disappeared from her public duties for over a year. My father couldn’t help her, though he tried. He told me once that she was stuck. She would wake up in the night, wailing, looking for the child, wandering in the darkness. Solandis herself came to stay in the Grand Palace for a time to try and help. Nothing and no one could save Astra from that nightmare.
“Then, one day, she simply became unstuck. She was herself again; she attended public events, performed her duties as she did before. She never spoke of the lost baby again, and she seemed to give up hope that she would ever have a child of her own.
“Decades passed and one day, without explanation—and after eighty-two years of marriage—my mother found herself pregnant once again.
“My parents made no public announcements. They were anxious the entire pregnancy—how could they not be? Not only would their child be an answered prayer for them, but they would also be the future of Medeisia, the heir to a five-thousand-year dynasty,” he said.
“That’s a lot of expectation for someone who hadn’t even been born yet,” I commented as Aydan paused to drink his tea.
“It is,” he replied, “but that is the reality of our bloodline. We have remained powerful and maintained our claim to the throne because of it. The power that lies in the royal bloodline, and especially the power that lies in the anointed monarch . . . only they can tell you what that weight truly feels like.” He set his cup back on the tray and continued.
“My mother labored for twenty hours before delivering a healthy daughter, my sister Irsa. She cried and rejoiced, and my father was called into the labor suite to celebrate with her. Then, just as Irsa was handed off for my father to hold, my mother felt intense pain once again, and only six minutes after delivering my sister, she delivered me as well. A surprise twin.”
“They must have been overjoyed,” I said.
“Under different circumstances, they would have been,” Aydan said.
“What do you mean? They waited so long for a child and then had two. That’s about as close to a miracle as I’ve ever heard.”
“Well, my mother would agree with you. She doted on us, suspended her public duties, even refused the standard nannies and wet nurses that would have been expected of a queen to hire. Had my father not been king, I believe he would have felt the same way.
“You see, the ancient laws of succession were written to state that the firstborn child of the monarch would inherit the powers of the monarch upon their anointment. They referenced even more ancient scrolls that indicated that the first child was the most magically powerful in a sorcerer’s bloodline, and therefore the firstborn would be best suited for the throne. Never, in the history of my family’s reign, had the firstborn been a girl.”
“If the girl is the most magically powerful, wouldn’t the law be on her side?”
“Yes, the law would be on her side, but the foolish hearts of the men who govern these lands were not,” Aydan said. “If my sister had been born alone, then there would be nothing to argue. She would be heir apparent and titled crown princess when she came of age. However, because I was born alongside her, many in my father’s council felt that he should simply declare that I had been born first. He could not bring himself to ask my mother to go along with such a lie, but he did instruct his scholars to search for a legal loophole. After years of scouring nearly every library in Medeisia, they found it. The Heirs’ Duel.
“The rules were simple: if a younger member of the line of succession felt that they were in fact more powerful than the heir apparent, they could publicly request the Heirs’ Duel once they were of age. The two would duel with no weapons other than their magic, and the winner would be named the crown prince or princess.
“My father couldn’t publicly appear to be preparing me for such a thing, but after our ninth birthday, my and Irsa’s power began to reveal itself, and suddenly our joint schooling stopped. We were sent to separate tutors, the explanation being that Irsa needed different types of tutors to prepare her for the throne. Meanwhile, I was being trained, with a new tutor added to the team each time a new power revealed itself. My father told me there was an accident when we were born, that I should have been the first born, and how my training for the duel was our secret—mother and Irsa couldn’t know. That someday I would be king, and it was my duty to be prepared for such a day. So, every day except Yule, for nine years, I trained, and Irsa and I grew apart.
“I bought into every word he said. I was the prince, the son of the most powerful sorcerer in Medeisia. I nearly matched him, even as a child. I beat out my tutors in every practice duel, excelled in every task they presented to me. I was a star pupil, the best my tutors had ever seen, so they told me. Why would my father tell me that I was better than my sister if I wasn’t? Why would I have been given every tutor, every opportunity to hone my a
bilities, if I wasn’t truly destined to be the next King of Medeisia? In my mind, the Heirs’ Duel was just a technicality—a bump in the road on the way to my destiny.
“The day of our eighteenth birthday, there was a feast. Every lord and lady in Medeisia was there, even Priamos and Solandis. Every courtier dressed in their very best to celebrate the next generation coming of age and, they thought, the official titling of Irsa as crown princess.
“I made my grand entrance an hour after the feast started. Barged through the doors, knowing all eyes would be on me—loving the idea of the surprised look on their faces. I strode confidently across the great hall in the Grand Palace of Nautia and declared to my father that I was requesting the right to challenge my sister to the Heirs’ Duel.
“What I didn’t expect were the looks of betrayal on my mother’s and sister’s faces. Irsa looked like I had slapped her. My mother looked like she would cry, and when my father granted permission, she did. She begged him not to allow it, insisting that one of us would kill the other. He would not yield. After a century of marriage, this was the first time he gave my mother an order: control herself or leave the room. She couldn’t bear to watch, so she left.
“Within minutes, a space in the great hall had been cleared and Irsa and I stood facing one another. She looked terrified, enraged, and betrayed. But she stood her ground and did not try to get out of the duel. My father explained the rules and what would be granted to the winner, and then it was time to begin.” I felt my fingers dig into the arm of my chair.
“I allowed her to take the first shot. She hit me and I knew instantly that it would be much more of a challenge than I had anticipated. That perhaps, despite what poison had been fed to me for the previous nine years, my sister wasn’t inherently weaker than me due to her sex. That being the prince might not get me as far as I thought it might. I got in the next few blows, even knocked Irsa off her feet once, but within minutes, she unleashed the enormity of her, and nothing—nothing—could have prepared me for the raw power that emerged from my twin.” Aydan sighed.