Divided

by Rae Brooks

Of course not. Lavus had never been interested in Calis getting with some lesser girl from Dokak—he had only mentioned doing such a thing if it helped solidify the treaty. Calis had gotten their treaty without the aid of marriage. “I’m sure mother will not share your sentiment,” Calis answered.

  Claudia was another matter entirely—as she was quite the romantic, and very interested in her son enkindling some whirlwind romance with a lady from a distant land.

  “Certainly not,” Lavus agreed. “I knew sending you there was the right decision. You are becoming quite the diplomat, though I hope your time in Dokak has not softened your sword hand.” Calis and his father agreed upon that one matter. Fighting would always be more important than talking.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Father. Dokak had plenty of men, all of which feared that I would steal the woman of their dreams from them. I trained as much as I was able,” he answered. The conversation felt so rhythmic. He’d had it a dozen times, on all different fronts. Even with Tareth standing beside him, feeling awkward and strange, since Lavus never graced his youngest son with more than a few words, the conversation flowed.

  No, there was no designated order of rule. Telandus had long since done away with the preconceived notion that the elder son must rule the kingdom. However, the elder son did tend to have more responsibilities, and Calis had handled those responsibilities with unending wit and efficiency, which had gotten him much favor from everyone. Therefore, Lavus had made it very clear years ago that Calis was the boy that he wanted ruling after his passing. Tareth was nothing to Lavus, and Tareth, unfortunately, knew that.

  “And did you steal any of those women, my son?” Lavus asked. There was a sadistic gleam in the king’s eyes that told more of his nature than it should. Calis had certainly laid with women in Dokak, none of which had held any particular interest to him, and none of which had been otherwise occupied by men. Calis did not intend to tear apart lovers for the sake of his own games.

  However, to say that he was faultless in his dealings with women would have been a lie. He had slept with more than his fair share of women and then dashed their hopes of marriage with merciless fervor. To answer his father, he simply smirked—not deeming any further explanation necessary.

  His father’s response was a return of the same gesture. “Regardless,” Lavus started, “I intend to have the celebrations just as such that you had arrived tomorrow. You seem to be aware of that, in your avoidance of individuals of note. You should wash, and then meet with your mother and me for dinner. She will be delighted to know the rumors of your return were true.”

  Calis bowed again, offering the quickest of smiles. “Indeed.”

  “Oh, and if you are unaware, a ball will be held in your honor tomorrow’s eve—so perhaps you can begin searching for a wife of a lineage that you will find more respectable than those in Dokak.” Calis had to work to mask his frown. A ball—that was not anything he’d expected. His father was not one for balls, and the only reason he would have bent to Claudia’s will on the issue would be that Lavus truly thought it was time for Calis to find a wife.

  Only Calis wasn’t interested in finding some noble-born wife. He didn’t have time to deal with any of nobles. As he’d found in Dokak, and in Telandus, none of them were able to hold a suitable conversation. He’d just as soon marry a wall. “A ball?” he asked, “You do me too much honor, father.” He worked as much sincerity into his voice as he could muster.

  “No honor is too great for my son,” Lavus answered swiftly. “Lady Avyon will be glad to know of your continued availability.” Oh, Lady Avyon—the most possible of the prospects that Lavus had offered up for Calis. An air-headed, black-haired beauty with intelligence akin to that of a broom. Calis pretended to be glad, though.

  In fact, after great effort, he even managed a sincere smile. “Lovely, then. I suppose I will see her there.”

  “If I may, Father, why is it that you push for marriage now that Calis has returned from Dokak? Surely, there are no benefits from a silly marriage. He will not rule for many years yet.” Calis wondered if Tareth was curious about Calis’s coming into power prematurely. That would have been the final slap in the face for Tareth, Calis feared—and he was certain that he would be deflecting his brother’s assassination attempts regularly.

  Though, that was not the case. Lavus wanted the additional support—that was all. Lavus would not give up the throne until he was a pile of bones. “Tareth, insolent boy, you understand nothing of rule. Any additional loyalty will help our cause—even within our own walls, and marriage is a lovely means of securing that.”

  Just that, Calis thought. Never had Lavus thought that marriage could have anything more involved than a pass at political growth. Love had never crossed his father’s mind. “In the coming war with Cathalar, we will need our armies and people to be stronger than ever, and Calis’s marriage to one of the young noblewomen will help that. Especially family Avyon.”

  However, Calis’s father had never bothered to consider that Calis might not want to marry Lady Avyon. In fact, that would never have mattered to any noble, and it probably shouldn’t matter to Calis. When he thought about it—it really didn’t. He had long since resigned himself to that the fact that love was a thing for fairy tales—and poor men.

  “The skies grew dark, and the air grew stifled, and despite it all, the wars continued.”

  -A Hero’s Peace, v.i

  Chapter v

  Aela Lassau

  Aela Lassau reached up for the last pin that held her long black hair up in its perch above her head. The curly black locks fell around her shoulders and the relief that accompanied it was immediate. She let out a long breath. “Aela,” her brother spoke from a few paces behind her. “Why would you do that? Father will expect it up for dinner.”

  “Father will live, Ryo,” she answered curtly. “Dinner isn’t till sundown and I have no interest in making myself miserable all sun-up.” She ran her fingers through her thick hair and then shook her head. Glancing towards the mirror hanging on the wall, she smiled. If it were up to her, she’d have chopped all of her hair off.

  Ryo didn’t bother continuing the line of thought. They had just held court for most of the dawning hours—and Ryo knew the discomfort as well as she did. Aela would never understand why their father insisted both of his children be present for every tiny issue. So many commoners tried to appeal to their father that court could run nearly all sun-up on some occasions. Not like father actually assisted with many of the problems either.

  She leaned back against the light wooden desk that sat before the mirror. They were in her changing room, which was nothing but a blue-carpeted room with pink and golden decorated walls. She hadn’t bothered much with this room, as she was only in here for a few brief seconds before she was out again. Her closet, though, was stockpiled with dozens of multicolored dresses. “I do wish the Telandus vie for Dokak had not gone so well. Father will be in an ill mood for the next moon phase,” Ryo said blackly.

  No doubt, the news they had received this sun had been devastating. A messenger had brought news that Dokak had openly declared a treaty with Telandus—and worst yet, there didn’t seem to be a conditional marriage associated with it. Perhaps Aela should visit Telandus some time, and then she could find a way to get herself out of one of these numerous arranged marriages her father was attempting to force on her. Rumor had it the entire treaty had been done by the eldest Tsrali son—that made sense, since Lavus Tsrali couldn’t negotiate his way across a flat road. Now that Dokak was involved in the war, it would mean that Cathalar would need to turn its attention toward making powerful allies of their own.

  To her knowledge, their father had spoken with the leaders of Kras, Milan, and Tarne. None of which had agreed to help, but none of which disliked any man more than they disliked Lavus Tsrali. Because while her father, Veyron, may have ruled with an iron fist. Lavus was nothing short of evil. Dokak was one of the few lands that would have been open to any all
egiance to Lavus, and even they had to know it was a foolish and would be short-lived.

  “Well, Dokak is only one nation,” she answered her brother. Ryo seemed startled that she’d answered so belatedly. He no doubt thought that she had simply regarded his statement as rhetorical. It may well have been, but Aela wasn’t one to let statements go unsaid. “I wish there was a way to make peace with Telandus—if only Lavus wasn’t such a monster, I think father would agree.”

  “Not with Lavus in power, but with another, perhaps. Maybe I shall attempt an assassination,” Ryo offered with an amusing grin.

  Aela returned it with a mischievous smile. She didn’t mention the fact that if one of the two were to be sent to assassinate someone—it should most likely be her. Ryo had far more strength and combat experience, but she had trained in stealth, and despite her father’s wishes, she had trained with a blade. “Yes, perhaps we could arrange for the old man to fall on his sword.”

  “You have to wonder though, with Lavus as a father, would either of the Tsrali children be any less cruel,” Ryo said. Well, he certainly was a bit of a downer. Aela was certain that he had a point, though. The possibility was slim that any respectable boy had grown up in Lavus’s household.

  Aela let out a sigh, informed her brother that he had soured her mood beyond repair. Then, she cast a glance towards the window, which was the primary source of light in the room. Seeing the expanse of land, the fields, and in the distance, the gates of the city—she thought of her other brother. The one who had vanished when she was only nine years old. Well, vanished wouldn’t be the proper word. Taeru had made his decision to leave well known, and though Aela had begged to go with him, he had refused.

  Taeru was younger than Ryo, but older than Aela. He had been only thirteen years old when he had decided to leave Cathalar in favor of a more peaceful life. Talk of the war had always bothered Taeru more than any other—and finally, as war grew closer, Taeru had withdrawn himself entirely from all of them.

  Aela could never express how badly she missed him. Taeru had been the light of her life. They had spent time together, and he was the one who had begun her training with a blade. He had arranged for one of his friends in Lower Town to continue it when he left. He had taken care of Aela until the very moment he had stepped out of Cathalar forever.

  The pain thinking of him brought on was overwhelming. She jerked her head away from the window with a breath. To say that she resented Taeru for his leaving was not entirely untrue. She hated that he’d left them, but she didn’t blame him wholly either, and if given the chance—she would have hugged him and begged him to return. Then, after she was certain he would, she would have slapped him.

  What was worse was that they had not heard a single word of him since the sun he had left. If Taeru’s intention had been truly to disappear, then he had done so without flaw. No one had seen or heard from him. None of the neighboring lands that Veyron had told to watch for him had ever seen him—no messenger, no word of Taeru at all. However, Aela tried desperately to convince that this meant that her brother was still out there—somewhere.

  “Taeru would probably mock you for how much you still think of him,” Ryo said. Her emotions were apparently very difficult to mask, especially to her brother. Taeru would no doubt have called her a child for still missing him. After all, it had been five years since he’d been gone. Plenty of time to accept the fact that she was short a brother. Nevertheless, Taeru had been her life for the better part of her life.

  Fighting the fact that she had been thinking about their brother seemed foolish, and she just shrugged. “Do you think he is alright?” she asked. A question that she asked Ryo constantly and one that he would never have an answer to.

  “I like to think so. Taeru was twice our better in any field. He could wield a sword better than me by the time he was six,” Ryo said. This was partially a jest, but Taeru had been nothing short of impressive in all regards. That had been one of the main reasons Veyron had fought so hard to keep his son within the walls.

  Veyron was not the type to restrict freedom, even when it came at the cost of a personal embarrassment. Everyone in Cathalar knew that Taeru was unhappy, and that Taeru didn’t really belong in the family. He would never have accepted rule of Cathalar—and that meant that if he wanted to go, he should be able to go. Therefore, even though Veyron protested until the very last, the king could not keep his son from leaving.

  Aela couldn’t help thinking that if their mother had still been alive; she would have been able to keep Taeru within Cathalar. She deeply wished that their mother was still with them, and that Taeru was. “I just wish we could hear once that he was alright,” she said softly.

  “But if anyone knew where Taeru was, then they would pester him. Taeru is probably making very certain that he is not discovered,” Ryo answered. Ryo was very practiced at easing Aela’s mind about Taeru.

  But Ryo would never compare to Taeru, in any regard, not to Aela. Taeru had been brave, chivalrous and had been there for Aela in every moment of every sun’s cycle. Even though she had only been nine when he left, she had known that Taeru was more a man than their father would ever be—and that anything he did would be graced with a sort of magic. She loved her brother more than the world.

  Aela let out a sigh. “The inconsiderate imbecile,” she hissed. She didn’t bother continuing, mostly because insulting Taeru was very difficult for her—and always had been. “Leave me, Ryo. I think I’m going to take a spontaneous bath.”

  Her older brother didn’t seem to believe this, but there was not much he could say. If he had tried to call her a liar, she would simply have gone to take the bath. He let out a sigh and then whisked himself out the door without another word.

  As soon as Ryo was gone, Aela made sure the door was shut and locked and immediately began undressing. She moved to her closet once she wore only her undergarments and sifted through her silly dresses until she reached the back. There she found her black tights and red brown tunic. She quickly eased the clothes on and then stepped into a pair of worn brown boots.

  Disguising herself wasn’t necessary, as there was no reason she shouldn’t be in Lower Town, but she didn’t like flaunting her royalty around all the commoners. Royalty rarely went into Lower Town, and when they did, the villagers tended to do their best to ignore them unless absolutely necessary.

  She pulled her hair into a quick braid, slipped on her cloak and slipped out the window and onto the roof of one of the outhouses. The process was easy—taught to her by Taeru when she was just a little girl. It had been some time since she had slipped into Lower Town to forget about her problems, but on this sun, she intended to do just that.

  The path she took to Lower Town was simple. The stone path between the high buildings of Upper Town was lovely, with stone buildings, each with colored roofs. She had to pass through the market place to get to Lower Town gate, and there were plenty of vendors bustling about—working to sell their wares on tables.

  Though Taeru had never been a fan of informing the guards where they were going, she’d found that it was much easier to just tell them so that they would open the gate—that way she didn’t need to climb. With a quick nod, they opened the gates for her and she was in Lower Town. Lower Town was much different from Upper. For starters, Lower Town residents deemed the colors of Upper Town a waste, and so everything was mostly brown.

  The buildings were lower, and the roofs were done with black thatching. The whole place was minimalistic, and Aela liked it here. That wasn’t to say that she didn’t enjoy dressing up every now and then, but something about the simplistic nature of the Lower Town was nice. As she wandered the street, watching the baker push his bread cart, she heard snippets of the town gossip. Somehow, Lower Town always seemed to know what had gone on in court, even with the meetings were supposedly secret.

  Finally, she found her target, which was a worn old stand that held nothing but books. The first time she’d come here with Taeru had bee
n on a quest to find a book that had been outlawed for being written by a Telandus writer. That was back when the first Intolerance Laws had been passed. Relations had gotten progressively worse between Telandus and Cathalar, and once they reached a certain point, Veyron had outlawed visitors, and then any goods from Telandus.

  But Aela had wanted the book. She had heard of it from one of her friends shortly before the laws were passed, and Taeru was never one to let Aela want for anything. So that was the first time her brother had brought her with him to Lower Town. She had been so fascinated with the differences that while Taeru was bargaining for the book—she hadn’t even noticed. She could still see the scene in her mind as he turned and handed her the book, with that amused smile on his face—with dimples that Aela wished fervently that she had gotten. His entire face lit up when he smiled, and the happiness was contagious.

  This was why she didn’t come to Lower Town much anymore. Every little piece of this place reminded her of her brother. There were ghosts of him riddled through Lower Town, and after he’d left, she had realized that she couldn’t even enjoy her walks much anymore. The heartache his absence called had eased with time, but it would never be gone entirely.

  The old man at the stall lit up when he saw her approach. “Ah, bonjour, Aela! I haven’t seen you in a long while.” His voice was cheerful, and his eyes were glistening with amusement at her return.

  Aela was certain that at least a few moon phases had passed since she’d come to Lower Town, and even longer since she’d come to the bookstall. “I know, monsieur,” she answered briefly. “Things have gotten hectic up in Upper Town, I’m sure you’ve heard.”

  The man nodded solemnly. “You must be bored out of your mind in the countless hours Lord Veyron makes you stay in court,” the man said, as if reading her mind. She knew that shouldn’t be one of her primary concerns with a war looming on the horizon, but she couldn’t seem to entertain the thought that Telandus and Cathalar would ever make good on their empty threats.