A King's Caution (The Eternal War Book 2)

by Brennan C. Adams

  “No. I’m here for you, E.”

  Kheled’s head snapped up, and he looked, truly looked, at his adversary (comrade). Doldimar’s full lips curled into an eager smile, and his eyes twinkled despite the weak light.

  “Are you here to kill me?” Kheled asked.

  If he wished to eliminate the Champion of Ele before the opposite could occur, tonight would prove the best chance Doldimar had ever stumbled into. Before he’d left for dinner, Kheled had stored his weapons in his room. Without them, he could present a decent struggle, but Lighteater hung from Doldimar’s hip. The fight’s end was already determined.

  “I’m here to extend an invitation,” Doldimar said, dashing Kheled’s guilty hopes. “Since this cycle has diverged so significantly from those of the past, I thought we might visit a long-abandoned home before we cut to the end game. Did you know it’s still there? The little cottage, the paintings, the half-finished baby cap, the garden. It’s all preserved. I thought, since this has a high chance of becoming the final cycle, we should go home to the city Lirilith loved.”

  Kheled took a step forward without realizing it. “You don’t say her name,” he growled.

  Shrugging, Doldimar backed into the shadows cast by the chimney. “I’ve extended the invitation. You can choose to accept. Or not. The city’s where I’ve hidden for the last four years, scheming, gathering troops, and turning ordinary Kiraak into Enforcers. Meet me there and see. Maybe, if you’re fast enough, you can stop me from inflicting the tragedy I’ve planned for poor, tormented Raimie.”

  Making a mockingly sympathetic face, he vanished.

  “No!” Kheled shouted, sprinting along the rooftop’s length.

  Shoving a hand into the shadows, he cast out for the dispersed particles of his enemy (friend), but Doldimar was gone. Kheled screeched his frustration, punching the chimney’s bricks. Sharp pain in his knuckles was another reminder he was the weakest he’d been since the disastrous experiment which had poisoned him with Ele.

  He hissed, sucking on his knuckles. His course was clear. He could stay here, follow the plan, train primeancers, and prepare for the inevitable assault. But… Doldimar had something specific planned for Raimie. He’d been so confident he could accomplish it, and Kheled knew where Doldimar was.

  He didn’t have much choice in the matter, even if it was most definitely a trap. He’d go home, and he would end the cycle.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  To enter the ballroom was to step into a different time and a beautifully exotic place. The palace staff had outdone itself with decorations this year. One need only compare their efforts to the foreigner’s contributions to see the care and attention imbued into the task.

  Let it not be said, however, that Auden’s allies hadn’t come bearing their best gifts.

  The Matvai had made a significant appearance this evening, in their furs and charm entwined hairstyles. As a sign of the continued good will between their peoples, the northerners had gifted the Audish with intricately carved ice sculptures to dominate each serving table, and a small ice palace ensconced the musicians in their out of the way corner.

  Ada’ir’s representatives had brought beautifully embroidered tablecloths and tapestries to liven the ballroom’s otherwise stark state. The drape of colorful silk and muslin softened the room’s hard lines, providing guests with a sense of comfort and hominess.

  The food, along with its presentation, was proudly Audish work. The kingdom had celebrated its first bountiful harvest this fall, and evidence of plenty artfully piled cloth draped tables so high they threatened to groan.

  Floral arrangements, artificially frosted over, joined Ada’ir’s tapestries in hiding the frescoes the King had off-handedly called garish some months ago. Raimie might not have meant what he said or intended what happened afterward, but his staff was attentive to his every need, including the aesthetic. When his attention was diverted elsewhere, they slowly replaced the frescoes, hiding their work with disguises whenever circumstances called for it. Today, flowers masked their reconstructive efforts.

  Doors opening onto the gardens had been flung wide in preparation for the Qenan display later in the evening. Scientists from the quaint town could be found in every corner of the room, bragging to anyone who’d listen about their discovery, their ‘fireworks’.

  Above everyone’s heads hung the King’s contribution. For those firmly planted on the ground, the little lights appeared to airily float by themselves, but of course, such a perception was an illusion, an impossibility. Each glow was a small candle surrounded by a globe of scavenged paper, the thin barrier effectively diffusing the light. Lines of sturdy wire strung these globes at uneven intervals and inclines from wall to wall. Raimie had spent hours performing impossible acrobatics and disappearing acts to properly rig them, but their effect made his work seem worthwhile. The lights stole the gaze of guests first entering the hall, and many exclaimed that the stars had descended to them. A handful even grew faint at the idea.

  And the people! Even after four years of unimpeded recovery, the average Audish citizens couldn’t claim much in the way of prosperity, but on this most special of occasions, where the King had invited anyone and everyone to his home, they came dressed in their best.

  Deciphering which people belonged to which faction was a rather simple undertaking.

  The Matvai with their loud Vasnavai wore their fur-lined caps and knee-length tunics, wrapped with colorful sashes at the waist. Their traditional weapon of choice, the ax, hung between their shoulder blades. They crowded tables carefully laden with hundreds of glasses, each filled with the vodka they so thoroughly enjoyed. Drunken singing and shouts already burst from them, even at such an early hour.

  The Ada’ir visitors wore their elaborately stuffy gowns and suits. Their small number stayed to the fringes and corners, isolating themselves with their air of superiority.

  The average Audish citizens, gathered from Uduli to the borders, wore a similar dress to their Ada’ir cousins, but theirs was noticeably faded and threadbare. They also reflected the style of their beloved King rather than that of their cousins. More militaristic when compared to the embroidered and bejeweled gowns of the Ada’ir guests, their clothing sported only occasional color. For the most part, the Audish stuck to the black and navy-blue palette Raimie favored.

  Some few primeancer students had gathered the courage to descend from their spires and join the fun. Their uniforms stuck out from the rest of the crowd like a sore thumb. They generally followed the same lines as the Audish military uniform: the same trousers, but in a more pliable material; the same silky undershirt, but without the vest to conceal it. Instead, a circular pin stabbed the undershirt’s fabric where the vest’s lapel would rest. The pin’s color, white or black, declared the wearer’s primeancy affiliation.

  Since this was a formal occasion, many of the students had borrowed jackets which happened to hide the pin. Even with their pitiful attempt to blend in, people gave the primeancers a wide berth, a fact which, surprisingly, they hadn’t yet noticed. Students from both sides of the primeancy line giggled and happily screeched at one another. Some of the small ones openly used Ele or Daevetch as they chased one another through the crowd, and guests scrambled to clear a path for the frolicking children.

  If the others uneasily avoided the primeancers, the Esela were hostilely ostracized, but the implacable people didn’t seem to mind. Over the years, such behavior had become the norm for them. It didn’t matter that the same antipathy was exhibited here. What did matter was that the King had invited them to such an important, human celebration in the first place.

  Along with the rest, they wore their finest garments, but of all the factions gathered this night, their attire was the most eclectic. A handful of Audish military uniforms represented Raimie’s Zrelnach, and Ada’ir finery sprinkled the strangeness which clad the rest. Big, poufy pants and bare chests; white robes which fell to tile; floor-length, silk kimonos, embroidered with
scenes of pure fantasy; skimpy cloth strips covering breasts and genitals, all poorly hidden by airy gauze…

  When Ring stepped into the ballroom for an initial threat assessment, the dancer in gossamer finery was what caught her eye, and her stomach lurched. Hurrying around the corner, she dry heaved against the fist shoved into her mouth.

  “Is there a problem?” Raimie asked before Ren shushed him.

  Her skirt’s rustling fabric was Ring’s only indication the Queen had come near. Ren’s hand gently rubbed her back.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “Visions of a past I’d thought long forgotten,” Ring answered, distractedly wiping her mouth. “I’ll be fine, and you two are safe to enter. No signs of anyone with ill intent.”

  Ren hesitated, her hands resting on the belly’s bump her gown purposefully hid, and Ring internally sang with gratitude for how much she cared.

  “Go, go,” she shooed them with a wave. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  After another concerned pout, they strode into the ballroom, Raimie grabbing Ren’s hand as they turned the corner. Taking a deep breath, Ring followed, slinking to the fringes.

  Ring found it funny how quickly the room turned silent when Raimie entered. She could remember a time when his childlike lisp had gone unnoticed within a crowd, and now, his presence elicited an intense response from everyone caught within it.

  To be fair, Raimie had matured since Hand training in Daira. At some point, he’d finally, finally, reacquired the confidant air he’d lost alongside his mama in the accident, and when he smiled as he did now, he oozed charm. A hand placed on Silverblade’s hilt-not Shadowsteal, always so careful not to touch Shadowsteal-and suddenly, everyone around him knew they’d found the safest place on earth to be. The best part? The charm, confidence, sense of safety, all of it was unintentional. This was Raimie, King of Auden, in his natural state.

  So, when he led his Queen forward to stand before the crowd and tugged on his sleeve, no one else saw a nervous habit. They saw a man perfecting his image, a man comfortable enough to smooth clothing which bothered him, an altogether forgettable action. When he clasped his hands behind his back, they didn’t know Raimie clenched them to halt their tremble. They knew their King wished to address them. Even the raucously drunk Matvai drifted closer so they could listen to what he had to say.

  “This ball is in celebration of many things, chief among them freedom from a tyranny which lasted centuries,” Raimie started, “but with that celebration, we must also include the tenacity of the Audish people, a spirit which never gave up even in the darkest of times.”

  He paused a moment, assuming the faraway look which meant he’d changed his mind and would execute his new plan whether it was a good idea or not. It was a look the Hand had grown to dread over the years. Casually, Ring brushed her fingers against her weapons, eyes scanning the crowd.

  Raimie’s stance relaxed, and his clenched hands dropped to his sides. “I assume most of you know I’m not from here. Sure, descended from Audish citizens, their king even! But not. from. here. When I unearthed Shadowsteal in Ada’ir and reluctantly commenced my journey, I honestly didn’t know what to expect from this place. Because of the years’ long embargo between the nations, Auden had become the land of fables and myths in my homeland. So, when Khel and I became stranded on Auden’s shore, away from our group and with no clue where we were, I greeted this great nation with hesitation. Do you know how it responded?”

  He paused as if expecting an answer, but no one dared raise their voice. When it became apparent none would respond, Raimie answered his own question.

  “It attacked me. With throwing knives.”

  The crowd laughed. To the foreigners, the image was a funny oddity of this strange land, but to the Audish, it painted a perfect representation of their much-loved kingdom. After a moment, Raimie raised his hands to call for quiet.

  “When I fell asleep that night, tired and afraid, I hated Auden. I thought I’d sailed to a land which didn’t deserve saving, but over time,” he faced Ren, taking her hands, “I learned maybe Auden wasn’t as horrible as I’d thought. Maybe I’d found something in this beautiful country worth fighting for. Over time, I grew to love Auden more than any other nation.”

  Ren teared up, but with Raimie clasping her hands, she couldn’t wipe her eyes. A single drop spilled over, running down her cheek, before Raimie caught it and wiped it away. He turned to the crowd’s raised faces.

  “For anyone who missed the metaphor, Ren’s the one who attacked her brother and me on our first day in Auden. She shouldn’t, however, be blamed for her hasty actions. When I look back on it, I can say with certainty that we acted extraordinarily Kiraak-like that day, skulking about the shore as we were. I share this story because I desire you to understand why I chose her to be my wife. I’ve heard nasty rumors of ‘Esela witchcraft’ floating around court, rumors which frankly aren’t true. Ren has never employed magic on me, a fact which can be verified by the many people who’ve stood beside us since our first meeting. Our growing love wasn’t some instantaneous trick, some entrancing spell. The romance between us was one of years, much the same as what lies between Auden and me.”

  The crowd had tensed. Ring carefully watched a pair of red-faced Matvai warriors standing near the front. She drew her pistol, loosely holding it.

  “Doldimar,” a flinch rippled through the crowd at the name, “destroyed Auden. This country may have the same name, but it is not the same kingdom as the one of old. Every day, I build our new Auden from its ashes, and this country will be one of tolerance. You don’t have to like the Esela to live next to and do business with them, but you do have to LEAVE THEM ALONE and give them their peace. The law states that, in Auden, Esela and humans are equal. If you don’t like the rule, move somewhere else.”

  Raimie’s sweeping glare fixed on the two fidgeting Matvai, and they quailed, taking a step back. As quickly as it had wiped from Raimie’s face, a delighted grin bloomed on it once more, and the crowd relaxed.

  “I’m sure you’re eager to hear the announcement I promised, so enough with the reprimand and on to the good news.” Wrapping an arm around Ren’s waist, he pulled her close. “Go on,” he coaxed. “Tell them.”

  Ren nervously cleared her throat. “We’re expecting our first child, and-”

  Cheers drowned the rest of her announcement. People rushed forward to congratulate them, and Ring and the Hand worked to keep the crowd’s push to an acceptable trickle.

  Soon enough, other diversions distracted Raimie’s guests, and the three Hand members unencumbered by bodyguard rotation were freed to participate in the ball’s activities.

  In their corner, the musicians resumed the piece they’d set aside for the King’s speech, and people drifted onto the floorspace specifically cleared for dancing. Ring perched on a table beside an ice sculpture, happy to pick at a nearby roast while she watched.

  “You know you want to join them,” Oswi- Middle murmured, stepping up beside her.

  Ring jumped. She hadn’t detected the spymaster’s approach. Having him unexpectedly in her vicinity made her insides go warm, and she’d inevitably need an excuse for her sudden blush.

  “Right,” she said. “Like anyone would dance with this.”

  She gestured at the crisp uniform, the face sans powders and pastes, and the hair pulled into a tight bun. Middle merely offered his hand.

  Ring let him pull her into the whirling throng of people. The dance didn’t fit that for which she’d trained, but she knew the steps. She began the first clap and twirl combination, immediately aware Middle had been right. When was the last time she’d danced? When was the last time she’d let herself dance? Why had she forbidden it in the first place? On this floor, she was the master. Let the world see her beauty, her skill, her excellence!

  The dance called for her to join with Middle for a time, and she complied even as a defiant smirk affixed to her lips. Let the man have the illus
ion of leading her. She determined where next they moved.

  “Can’t show off too much, Ring,” Middle laughed. “Raimie has a surprise performance planned.”

  Of course he did. Reluctantly, Ring relinquished control, letting her partner lead through the song’s remainder. He twirled her more than she’d like, but Middle was a good dancer despite the small failing.

  After only a few stanzas, she’d surrendered, but it wasn’t to the music this time. With him holding her tight, her blood sang, lightning zipped across her skin, and so much joy burbled from the place where happiness originated she wanted to cry from it. By the time the music faded, Ring’s face felt as if it might split from her beaming grin. She wanted to do another, but Middle persuaded her to leave the dance floor.

  “Raimie will start the performance soon. Let’s stand with him.”

  “Will there be danger?” Ring asked.

  Middle gave her a funny look. “No, I just thought you’d like to be near him and Ren.”

  When they approached, the Vasnavai had hold of Raimie’s hands and wouldn’t let them go.

  “-must give him a drop uf vodka every day ur he wun’t grow strung,” she was saying. “And if yu ever need someone tu watch him, I would luve tu du so.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Raimie told her.

  Giving his hands a firm shake, she released them, joining her drunken companions beside the vodka tables.

  “I don’t know if we’ve provided enough,” Raimie mused, eyeing the half-empty supply of glasses.

  “Drop of vodka every day. Really. No wonder their people have trouble with the simplest of academics,” Ring scoffed. “Please tell me you won’t take her advice, sir.”

  “Ren would kill me if I tried it.” Raimie smirked. “Since when have you cared about academics, Ring? You were always more focused on combat training when we were kids.”