by Rae Brooks
“Will you be attending the dance?” she asked sweetly. For once, Taeru was glad that Alyx had already asked him to take her. Otherwise, he would have been placed into the very awkward position of not asking Merril—or worse—declining her invitation. Going with Alyx was a simple matter, as neither of them had ever possessed feelings for one another—but going with Merril would imply things that need not be implied. Taeru had sworn off the entire concept of romance when he’d arrived in Telandus—before, really.
The last thing he needed was to be wrapped up in some romance that was based solely off lies. Though a few women had attempted to kindle a romance with him, most of the girls in Dark District were too busy tending to their own lives to fling themselves at men like the noblewomen tended to do. That was why he liked them so much more. “I will be,” he answered her briefly.
“Are you taking Alyx?” she asked woefully.
A sympathetic smile made its way onto his pale lips, and he offered a consoling nod. “Yes, Merril. Apologies.” The girl needn’t know that he would have refused to go with her had Alyx not already asked him. That would just put unneeded hurt on her heart.
Taeru didn’t know much of heartache, though. So perhaps Merril would have handled the rejection well—but he never had been able to be curt with people, even for their own good. He didn’t have the heart to reject Merril. After what she had been through with Tareth, Taeru didn’t think she deserved any more pain—however slight. “Oh, it’s alright. At least I’ll see you there.” She glanced to Juliet and curtsied again. “Thank you so much for all your help, Lady Amaral. I know I must have been a handful. My parents will surely be wondering where I am, so I’ll get out of your way.” Her voice was so sweet and kind that Taeru would swear she wasn’t the same person as the girl that had just screeched end of the world prophecies.
Once she left, Taeru glanced back towards Juliet. Juliet was still young, but she tired more easily than she once had. Even in the years that Taeru had been here, he had seen her age as she tried desperately to help the hopeless in Dark District. “Are you alright, my lady?” he asked worriedly.
Juliet just nodded, though, and then offered him a smile. “Oh, I’m fine, Kilik. I’m just glad that you arrived when you did. I had tried every trick I knew to calm her down—but you just seem to have a way with that girl that I will never understand.”
“Probably something to do with all those heroics he pulled,” Alyx said as she entered the house with a soft smile.
Merril was one of the few others who knew who the Phantom Blade really was. Taeru actually suspected the black-haired girl of starting that nickname to begin with. That was precisely the sort of thing she would say. Then again, half of Dark District would have started that, given the opportunity. “Merril wanted very much to go to the dance with Kilik,” Juliet said, and some of the exhaustion seemed to be leaving her features.
Alyx giggled. “Oh, poor Kilik! I don’t understand why you don’t just give in and have a go with the girl. She clearly cares deeply for you, and it’s been nearly two years since what happened. I’m sure she isn’t just in love with you for your dashing mystery or heroics. She obviously likes Kilik, and not the Phantom Blade.”
Sometimes, the amount of identities that he possessed made Taeru dizzy. Sure, maybe Alyx and Merril did care about Kilik—but neither of them knew who he really was. No one here did, and if anyone of them found out—he was sure they would have reported him to the guards. They would have been right to. “I told you my policy on romance,” Taeru answered smoothly.
“Don’t have time, yes, yes, I know.” With a wave of her hand, Alyx demonstrated her disapproval over this opinion. “Was Merril alright?” she asked.
“Yes, just another fit,” Juliet answered and then headed back down the hallway, probably to start dinner. She didn’t say as much, mostly because it would have been redundant to tell them at this point.
Once Juliet had disappeared, Alyx put her hands on her hips and gave Taeru a very stern glare. “From what I hear, you nearly got yourself captured,” she chided. He pursed his lips and stared at the wall. He hadn’t wanted to have this conversation. “What were you thinking?”
“The same thing I always am,” he answered without hesitation. To leave the girl to the mercy of Tareth, or any noble, would have been against every policy that he’d ever made. He had left Cathalar so that he could help people unable to help themselves—and that was what he would do.
Alyx was unimpressed with his resolve, though. “My sources tell me that you nearly got cornered. Do you know what Tareth would do to you if he ever caught you? I don’t even… by the Light, Kilik I do not want to think about it. I cannot.”
Taeru was far more concerned with the retribution he might bring down on Alyx and her family. Nevertheless, that was a risk he would have to take. Surely, the nobles would be too preoccupied with his own punishment to cause too much pain to this family, and they could always feign ignorance, which he had told them to do on multiple occasions. “I’m alright, aren’t I?” he said, thrusting his arms outwards as if to reveal himself more fully.
“Barely,” she said. “Were you hurt?”
Though his back was still aching, he just shook his head. “Not at all. Your sources always make things bigger than they are,” he said disapprovingly. Anyone who had seen him flung back against that wall—or better yet, heard him flung against it—would surely have mentioned the injury being terrible.
“No,” Alyx disagreed, “you just make things much smaller than they should be!”
Taeru offered a wry smile. Aela had told him that on more than one occasion back in Cathalar, and hearing similar words from Alyx was always something of a comfort. “I’m trying to be careful,” Taeru reassured.
Alyx’s hazel eyes looked truly worried—troubled—for a single moment and then they were replaced by the usual carefree happiness that typically resided within them. “Yes, well, you ought to try harder so that my poor heart doesn’t explode.”
There wasn’t much else to say between the two of them, and Taeru now desperately wanted to see the damage to his back. But he wouldn’t do that until he had plenty of privacy. “I’m going to go wash up,” he said immediately. That was usually the excuse he used.
“Before you go,” Alyx said. He cringed, even though her voice didn’t sound as though there was any further interrogation. His back pain had returned in full force since his interactions with Merril. “My sources also said that they saw Calis Tsrali. Was he there?” she asked, like the gossiping young girl that she was.
He wasn’t sure what to say to this. He couldn’t very well deny Calis’s involvement, but he very much didn’t want to mention the other Tsrali for some reason. Eventually, he resigned himself to mentioning him, anyway. “I believe he was.”
“Oh!” Alyx exclaimed. He was certain he knew why he didn’t want to bring the older Tsrali up. From what he’d heard on the street, Dark District women seemed to fancy Calis quite a lot. “Was he still handsome? Did he help you?”
Calis had helped him, but Taeru was certain that the help had been unintentional. Surely, the older brother would make up for the mistake in the coming suns by making Taeru’s life difficult. “Not intentionally,” he said flatly.
“So was he handsome?”
“I didn’t look,” Taeru answered without pausing to think about the question.
Alyx giggled and did a little twirl that she rarely demonstrated. Calis Tsrali was quickly becoming someone about whom Taeru found himself very curious. No man had ever inspired this sort of reaction in Alyx before. “Oh, I’m sure he was! I can’t believe he’s truly back!”
Taeru didn’t dignify her silliness with a response and instead headed back towards the back of the house where he could wash up. He didn’t have time for mindless girls chattering on about some noble prince—he’d gotten more than enough of that back in Cathalar.
“As the wars grew with each sun, the Magisters lost faith in the land and her kingdoms determini
ng that destruction was the only means of salvation.”
-A Hero’s Peace, v.i
Chapter iv
Calis Tsrali
Calis pulled his cloak off his shoulders—the cloak that had been the only reason all of Dark District hadn’t been ogling him. Tareth was going on about something or other, but Calis wasn’t exactly in the mood to listen. His mind was turning with curious thoughts about the masked vigilante whose life he had just saved.
Surely, Dark District had always offered more excitement than the Shining District, but nothing ever so fantastical before. From Tareth’s ramblings, Calis was certain that this masked boy had made more than a few appearances—and not just to Tareth either. Nevertheless, his younger brother had not wanted to dwell on that issue for too long, as that would have once again, shed light on just how much of a failure he was. “Father has spoken of nothing but your return since last full moon,” Tareth said, though Calis detected a note of animosity.
“I’m sure he’s just curious about the treaty with Dokak,” Calis soothed. “You know father is never one to get too preoccupied with any one individual, unless, be it that individual is himself.” When Tareth turned to look at his brother, the stockier boy actually smiled. Calis returned it. Tareth had started to resent Calis just before he’d left for Dokak—and Calis had begun workarounds so that the two of them could remain on friendly terms. He certainly didn’t want to combat his brother more often than necessary.
Tareth was probably none too happy about Calis’s interference with his Phantom Blade, though. “True enough, brother. He has mentioned Dokak, but I think he is more curious as to whether you found a suitable wife there. That appears to have been his plan all along, and with your overwhelming charm, he was sure that you would find one.” Ah, back to the wife subject. Calis had been sixteen when he’d left for Dokak, which meant that talk of a wife had already begun.
His father had mentioned the prospect of finding a young lady in Dokak, and Calis had assured the man that he would search—but none of the women in Dokak were particularly suited to Calis’s interests. In fact, all of Dokak had been as bland as the city of Telandus itself. Not to say that the women weren’t beautiful, and he could say—without vanity—that any of them would have leapt at the chance to be his bride, but he just wasn’t interested. “I fear he is going to be disappointed, then,” Calis answered his brother woefully.
They were walking down the red-carpeted corridors of the expansive Tsrali castle. On the outside, the castle was a massive structure—seen even from the lowest reaches of Dark District, and it was made of the darkest kind of stone so that its presence forced itself into any viewer’s mind wholeheartedly. Paranoid as his father was, the castle was surrounded by a small moat of water, so that people could only enter when his father deemed it necessary to lower the drawbridge.
The windows visible from the front of the castle were barred with elaborate black hinges, each with unique designs. The top of the castle was made of a black thatch material that had supported Calis’s many excursions to the roof before he’d left for Dokak. Then, there were the massive double doors at the front entrance—made of obnoxious gray marble.
As a whole, the inside was just as intimidating, and Calis was convinced this was Lavus’s way of reminding his sons that there would be no new ruler of Telandus until he deemed it so. The corridors were lit with flames held apart from the marble walls by stone lanterns. The fires flickered across the hallways, casting shadows in the dark that scared even the bravest little boy.
In addition to the unnecessary lighting, there were busts of men and Magisters, and statues of frightening lions dotting each of the castle’s many hallways. The red carpet remained a theme, though the silver marble for the outside door was replaced by wooden doors on the inside. Finally, the two brothers reached the end of the hallway that let out into the grand hall. The grand hall was by far Calis’s least favorite room in the castle—well, second least favorite. While his father had free reign over the entirety of his castle—this one was by far the worst.
Fortunately, Lavus had given his son’s the rights to their own rooms, and most of the guest rooms were maintained by Calis’s mother, Claudia.
However, this particular room was Lavus’s—the only room more so was the dreaded throne room itself. The floor of the grand hall was covered in the plush, crimson carpet, and statues of Lavus’s ancestors stood guard, two in front of each of the entrances to the winding staircase. The stairs were made of stone but were covered with the blood-colored carpet entirely. They led upwards to another hallway, which looked the same as the one Tareth and Calis had just walked through, only this hallway had no doors to break up the unnecessary decorations.
Busts were aligned along the whole of the upper hallway, in chronological order of each of the Tsrali heads of the house. None of them looked very attractive in stone, bust form, though Calis wasn’t sure anyone would. Then, behind each of the busts was a painted portrait of the same men—and though Calis’s ancestors didn’t look quite as grotesque in those pictures, the artist’s intent was obviously to frighten others, not to flatter the men.
The banister was coated in gold and wound about itself like barbed wire. Calis had never cared for walking along that hallway, though it was necessary to access the rooms on both sides of the castle. The gray, marble, entrance doors sat facing the front of the hall. The rest of the grand hall was a large waste of space. There were more decorations, but nothing else. This room was used for nothing other than introducing people to the domain, and Lavus wanted to ensure that meant scaring people.
Calis hated his father’s tastes more than anything. As they had passed through the grand hall and into the next corridor, Tareth had let the conversation die. Neither of the boys appeared to have much to say to one another, though they rarely did.
At last, they stood at the doors to the throne room. The door was black, tinged with silver woven across the front of it. The handle was an intricate design of swirls and glistened in the flame that flickered above the door. Tareth, without pause, opened the door and entered.
This room was a smaller replica of the grand hall, without the upper hall or stairwell, and with the addition of one incredibly obnoxious throne. The room was large, with pillars moving up to the ceiling, along the same crimson carpet. However, there was only a strip of carpet and the rest of the floor was made of stone. The carpet trailed from the start of the room all the way to the center, where a raised platform held the throne—and Calis’s pompous father.
Most men would have thought to include a smaller throne so that his children or queen could be with him, but not Lavus. Lavus said he and he alone ruled the kingdom, his children and wife were a threat to his control in such matters. It was disgusting. The pillars that led to the platform in the center of the room were of the same stone as the floor, though they were painted the same red as the carpet. The platform was raised by two steps, of course, to demonstrate to anyone who entered that Lavus was the superior here.
The throne itself was black, twisted into a frightening design. The seat held a crimson cushion, which looked comfortable enough, but the rest of the chair was like watching the monster of a chair attempt to eat the man who sat in it. The black was twisted, like the claws of a colossal, sickly looking. The chair was tall, though certainly not reaching the domed roof of the room.
The man who sat on it was not anyone Calis wanted to look at while having such negative thoughts, so he averted his eyes to the side of the too-wide room. The walls were decorated with those same flame-lanterns, and there were paintings of landscapes and other art that Calis didn’t understand. “My son. Why am I not surprised that you are back before the time you said you would be?”
Tareth and Calis took that moment to bow as graciously as either of them knew how to, after all, Lavus was the only one to whom they had ever bowed. “Possibly because I have never kept to schedules,” Calis answered easily.
Finally, his eyes found Lavus�
�now that he’d washed the condescending disgust from his mind. Lavus had graying hair, with a thick beard that was neatly trimmed so that it fit his face exactly. His eyes were the same blue-green that Calis’s were, but his thick stature was nothing like Calis’s. The man was tall, like his eldest son, but he looked much more like Tareth as far as his body was concerned. He currently wore deep, red robes with a cape that flowed behind him as he stood, and his black armor served as an overlay. He even had a red belt with an elaborate sheath and sword attached to it. “No, you have not,” Lavus answered. “Though, I wish you wouldn’t insist of making rounds to Dark District. People do talk, you know.”
“I’m aware,” Calis said. “However, as I was certain you had planned some sort of celebration for my return—I didn’t wish to be seen by any of the nobles that would be present, so as to spoil the festivities.” His words came without thought. He had become so accustomed to making up lies for his father’s benefit that he didn’t have to think about them anymore. “And I was curious if Tareth was still up to his old tricks.”
“Tareth never does anything but tricks,” Lavus said ruthlessly. His eyes found his younger son then, and Tareth let out the slightest of hisses. Lavus would never have heard.
As Lavus had stood, the guards that were at the base of his throne seemed uneasy. No man was ever fully at ease in Lavus’s presence, and that was precisely how the king wanted it. Calis had worked to overcome that, but even now, he felt strange and overshadowed with his father standing before him. “Ah, apologies, father,” Tareth managed a few moments later—accompanied by another light bow.
Lavus ignored him utterly, looking to Calis instead. “You, my son, are another matter entirely. From the word I’ve received, the treaty is more than we could have hoped for—thanks to you. I notice you didn’t return with any wench at your side. I must say I am surprised, though not unpleasantly so.”