The Solstice Prince (Realms of Love Book 1)

by SJ Himes

  From what he knew from his history lessons at the Academy, both Eistrea and Pyrderi laid claim to the island, and to avoid war, neither country put a fort or port on the island, leaving it to pirates and less than scrupulous merchants. Many times throughout history, there had been war over the island, and it made sense in terms of the gryphons’ history Maxim had shared earlier. Now that he knew where he was in the world, he didn’t feel so adrift. And beyond grateful a storm had sent him to the last safe port before a life of slavery at the end of the world.

  The square in front of the stands was steadily growing full with people. In the lower seats, nobles and courtiers took their places, dressed in their winter best with servants attending to their needs. The crowd below them and in the square were jubilant and loud, their mood infectious. The scent of faire foods was heavy in the cold breeze, and Jaime perked up a bit more, casting curious glances about as he came back from the edge of his earlier panic.

  Jaime was too shy to ask Maxim in front of his siblings exactly why they were there and what was going on. Maxim had said something about his older brother opening the ceremony. Janis was talking to the twins and swiftly devouring a plate of sweet meats and a fresh goblet of spiced wine. The square below was steadily growing populated, the crowds increasing in both size and noise. Giggling groups of children ran past, and Jaime could make out random colorful splotches of guardsmen’s red capes, the lush fabrics of rich merchants, and more than a handful of healer tunics, many of them bearing senior healer badges on their shoulders.

  At some prearranged signal, the crowd began to quiet, faces turned towards the canopy where the royals sat. Janis stood and moved to the rail, lifting a hand to the crowd. The people cheered, clapping and shouting the crown prince’s name. Prince Janis was popular with the people if he garnered that kind of reaction—this was not the forced greeting given to a leader that was feared or despised. Jaime still did not know who the king was of Pyrderi, but the future King was well-liked, perhaps even loved.

  The people quieted and Janis shouted, his words echoing through the cloud air. “Greetings citizens of Taliesin City! On behalf of the royal family and my father, the king, I welcome you to the first official day of the Solstice Festival! Today is cold and the wind is sharp, so I’ll not waste any time! Would the priests please light the solstice fire, and let the festivities begin!”

  The crowd roared in approval and there was a burst of smoke across the square. Two men and a woman dressed in gray robes were standing at the base of a large metal structure about the height of a tall man. The woman was cradling something in her hands that billowed out dark gray smoke and she tossed it into the weird structure. Bright orange flames promptly rose and the crowd cheered again. The royals clapped in approval and Jaime hurriedly copied their example, though he had little idea of what was going on.

  Maxim leaned down and spoke in his ear. “The priestess is a Magi and she lit the torch with her magic. The torch represents how life endures even in the depths of winter. The winter solstice is in a few days with the festival ending with the grand ball at the palace. The winter festival here in Taliesin City draws in celebrants from around the country and even from some of the islands in the Straits.”

  Jaime blushed when Maxim pulled back and gave him a swift wink and a charming grin. “Janis needs to stay and let the people see him for a while, but the twins are about to escape the cold and we have a tour to finish. The first day of the festival is just the opening ceremony since a lot of people are still arriving. Do you want to stay or would you like to finish the tour?”

  “The tour sounds like fun, if you’re sure we won’t be missed.” Any time alone with Maxim was worth the icy chill.

  “You two should escape while you can,” Janis said, having overheard Maxim. “I’ll be here until the cold gets too much, talking to courtiers and the like.” The crown prince stood over Jaime who blinked back up at him in surprise. For such a large man, he moved with surprising subtlety. Janis motioned to the lower levels of the stands, and the courtiers below were indeed standing and heading for the stairs that led to the royals’ box. “Unless you want to stay and get fawned over by the masses, Maxim?”

  “I’ll save that for you, dear brother. Enjoy your day, and welcome home.” Maxim helped Jaime to his feet. Jaime was at a loss for how to respectfully say goodbye to the crown prince, but Maxim solved this by tugging him away with a casual wave to his brother and the twins, who hardly paid them any heed, tossing back small waves of their own before they went back to talking. Janis grinned at them both and tipped his head towards the stairs.

  Maxim took hold of Jaime’s hand and took off for the stairs. They hurried downward until they came back to where the sleigh had dropped them off originally. There was a sleigh waiting for them pulled by the same strange creature Maxim called an oryx. Maxim helped Jaime up into the carriage and jumped in behind him. The driver snapped his whip, and the sleigh jerked into motion.

  Their visit to the festival might have been quick, but Jaime didn’t mind. The way Maxim held his hand, tight and firm, like he never wanted to let go, filled Jaime with warmth and a slow burn under his skin, heating his cheeks in the chilly air. The prospect of spending the next few hours in Maxim’s company was incomparable to anything he’d experienced in his short life. Not better than the day he was freed from the slavers, but it was close.

  Falling in love felt like learning how to live again.

  The sleigh dropped them off behind the palace. The driver snapped his whip and the oryx snorted, pulling the sleigh a hundred yards away before stopping. Jaime looked up at Maxim, wondering why they were at the edge the forest with pine trees and slumbering oaks as far as the eye could see. The mountains loomed above the trees, just the cloudy pinnacles and sheer sides visible over the treetops. Wisps of clouds raced and pooled around the faraway peaks, and Jaime marveled at how fast the winds must be moving to make clouds look like rivers of snow.

  They had already seen the Royal Guard barracks, where guards and city soldiers saluted Maxim, a few calling out in greeting to the prince as they passed in the sleigh. Then the gardens, coated in snow, but the landscaping was easy to see and a marvel. The palace was huge, far larger than Jaime had guessed from his previous, brief glimpses. It was easily the size of a small city and about as large as Marlec Point, the city where Jaime was born and raised in Eistrea. He had seen so much, and the palace’s many wings and buildings passed in a blur. He was unlikely to remember it in any detail, and he was foreseeing many days spent wandering about, lost. He was afraid to hope that he would one day know it well.

  Maxim adjusted his sword on his hip, and leather creaked in the cold. Jaime tugged his cloak in tighter and was grateful for the borrowed clothing. Maxim gestured for him to follow, and Jaime did so, treading behind Maxim as the prince broke through a pristine layer of snow. It was not deep; the field that abutted the forest was wind-scored, drifts collecting in the leeward side of large trees and rocky outcroppings. It was at one such outcropping that Maxim stopped after a few minutes.

  As tall as Maxim, the rock came out from the field at an angle, and Jaime scrambled up the side after the prince. It was easily twenty feet wide, and the surface was free from snow with some minor patches of ice that Jaime stepped around.

  “What are we doing?” Jaime dared to ask, and Maxim sent him a sly glance before the prince went back to examining the rock under their feet.

  “Sometimes they use this field to sun on during the winter. The wind is not as chaotic down here at sea level, and the sun has a chance to warm the rocks. Sometimes they leave behind presents.” Maxim explained, though Jaime was confused.

  “Who? What?”

  “Aha!” Maxim crowed and scooped something from the ground.

  Sunlight caught on the feather, shining like golden glass. Cream colored and as long as his forearm, the feather was rigid with a thick, deep red spine along the center that drew the eye. Maxim came to him, and Jaime took the feather,
mouth agape. His tried to speak, but he couldn’t, and Maxim chuckled. Jaime held it aloft, marveling at how, even removed from the giant beast that dropped it, the feather still caught the wind enough to tug against his fingers. The edges were smooth and clean, the spine unbent, and it had a faint spicy odor that reminded him of cinnamon.

  “There was…there was a gryphon here? This close to the palace?” Jaime finally got out. Maxim nodded, looking back at his home before turning to the mountains.

  “Yes. There’s no hunting allowed here, and the guards won’t bother the beasts if they don’t mess with the livestock. They’ve learned to avoid humans, and we haven’t had a mishap in several years. They’re as safe here as they are in their mountains. The forests behind the palace all the way to the mountains are off limits to everyone but the royal family and the guards.”

  Jaime eyed the size of the feather. He doubted anyone would want to come back here even if the grounds weren’t restricted. The creature must be the size of a warhorse. Jaime sent his gaze back to the mountains. The sky was bright, the horizon blue and clear, clouds touching the mountaintops. A part of him wished he could stay in this field forever, until he got to see one of the gryphons, perhaps even the beast who shed the feather he held. He wondered what it looked like—if its colors were the same as the feather he held, or if the wings were one color while the body another. Were they like birds of prey in their colorations or like songbirds? Did the genders share colorations or were they different?

  He lost track of how long he stared at the mountains, hoping to see a small dot soaring in the sky amongst the peaks. He blushed and sent a sidelong glance at the prince. Maxim was gazing at him and not the sky with a soft, wondering expression in his eyes and a smile.

  The trip back to the infirmary was taken in a daze. It might have something to do with the feather in his hand, or maybe the soft, almost chaste kiss the prince pressed to his lips before parting at the door to the healers’ wing.

  “Our prince is a smart one, for certain.”

  Jaime snapped his head up, eyes widening. Greaves smiled at him from a nearby table. Jaime had stopped in the middle of the great room, absentmindedly gazing down at the feather. “Smart? I guess, or he seems to be, I mean. Drat. You know what I mean.”

  Greaves smiled wider, standing and walking over. Jaime handed him the feather, and Greaves had a soft, awed expression in his eyes. Jaime was glad he wasn’t the only person to be so moved by something as simple as a feather. “He took you to the field behind the palace, didn’t he?”

  Jaime nodded.

  “No one goes there but the youngest prince. King Llyr went often as a young man, hoping to befriend a gryphon, but eventually duty and old age got in the way of dreams. Prince Maxim has gotten close, I hear. The guards bemoan his sense sometimes.”

  “Prince Maxim got close to a gryphon?” Jaime squeaked. “It could have killed him!”

  Greaves shook his head, handing back the feather. Jaime took it, concerned for his foolish prince. Greaves must have deciphered his expression, since he went on. “Gryphons won’t attack a human unless provoked or their fledglings are in danger. A sunning gryphon is a gryphon feeling lazy. No more dangerous than a steer or stallion.” Greaves gave Jaime a wink. “Besides, Prince Maxim is a canny hunter. He knows his prey and how to approach a skittish creature.”

  Jaime blushed harder. He hated his complexion sometimes—it revealed his state of mind far too often for his comfort. “Are you saying…Prince Maxim is hunting me?”

  Greaves’ eyebrows went up. “I perhaps said that wrong. He’s a kind man. Not predatory in an inappropriate way. He’s had a few lovers, but nothing serious and nothing recent. He isn’t the type to seek out a tasty morsel and then move on once consumed. Please ignore my teasing, I am dreadful at it, as is obvious.”

  “Does he…Does the prince…” Jaime couldn’t finish. He was too unsure. He didn’t know Greaves at all, and the man varied between serious and awkward.

  “Well, I asked for it,” Greaves mumbled to himself. He put his shoulders back and spoke clearly. “I honestly believe Prince Maxim cares for you deeply. He searched for you for hours when you got lost. He carried you here to the infirmary himself. He talks to you, takes you to the library, tries to get you out of your room. I believe his affection to be sincere. And I am not saying this because he is my prince and a favorite among those who live in the palace. Jaime, you are worth his regard and more. If you didn’t have doubts before, don’t let me give you any. I’m sorry.”

  Jaime stared at Greaves for a long time, picking apart his words. Greaves met his eyes and his expression stayed earnest. Jaime nodded, and Greaves relaxed a bit. “Right. Now that I have pulled my foot from my mouth, want to get some work in? A messenger from Corinthia sent your healing kit from the Academy.”

  “They did?” Jaime was surprised. In his haste to get home to his father, Jaime had left behind his robes and the healing kit he spent three years building. Filled with tools, small books of herblore, and remedies, potions, medicines, and more, it had been a costly sacrifice when he left the Academy. “How did it get here?”

  Jaime followed Greaves to the table, and sure enough, his kit from Corinthia was laid out on the surface, including the metal scalpel that bore his initials imprinted in the steel. He put the blade down and gazed in wonder at his belongings, seemingly having appeared from nowhere. The only thing not present were his textbooks, but that made sense. They were the property of the Academy, and he was half a world away. They were likely given to another student, and Jaime had the royal library.

  Greaves returned to his seat and sat with a grateful sigh. “We have a few magi here in the employ of the royals. Their type of magic is beyond my understanding, but they can communicate across long distances, and somehow, small things, like scrolls, messages, and small parcels, can be summoned across the seas. I asked a magi once, and her reply was so far beyond me I just fall back to ‘it was magic.’”

  That sounded daunting, so Jaime filed that question away for later. He grew up in Eistrea—there was a mage school in the capital, Meadowtown, but the mages were strictly controlled by the crown. Anyone with magic who didn’t want to belong to the select few who answered to the High King eventually left the country, willingly or not. Too many, like Jaime, fell victim to the superstitions held by the general populace. His father once said the only reason the people were so distrustful of magic was due to the crown’s habit of sequestering those with magic away from the rest of the country. No real information got out; so rumors and fear spread. Anyone who didn’t belong to the crown was vulnerable to violence and discrimination. Jaime felt that first hand, though he knew he was luckier than most. Many people died.

  What he could do was magic. He knew that, he truly did. His gift was something he could control, and it had limits. He didn’t know how he felt about the seeming unlimited power of those called the magi, but he appreciated the freedom they seemed to possess. Greaves implied the magi were paid by the crown—in Eistrea, a mage either did as the crown commanded or faced violence, death, or exile. There was one school, the Mage College, on the palace grounds at Meadowtown, and anyone who attended owed their lives to the crown.

  Jaime took in the wide, brightly lit room. The atmosphere was quiet, one of contemplation, but he could hear the echo of friendly chatter and the sounds of a few patients in the next room. There was the usual worry of the ill and injured, but he got no sense of stress or fear. The healers here were not afraid. Greaves spoke like a man who did not worry for his next meal, for the lash of a whip, or even if he would be homeless the next time he crossed paths with the wrong person.

  Pyrderi was not Eistrea.

  Jaime was in a new place. Safer. The world was brighter. The wounds he bore had faded to scars, and perhaps one day, breathing the fresh, cold air of Pyrderi would help heal the scars on his heart and soul. Maxim’s soft smile and kind hands didn’t hurt, either.

  “Grab some rags and some vin
egar spray,” Greaves said, motioning to the equipment on the table. “Let’s get this cleaned up then we can talk through some basic surgery principles.”

  Jaime smiled. He went for the cleaning supplies with a spring in his step. A place that fit him, and the potential for more. Maxim filled his thoughts as he let his hands work through the old familiar rhythm of rag and steel.

  Jaime frowned down at the list in his hand. The infirmary was short some medicinal roots, and a few of them were edible; so Greaves reasoned the kitchen might have what they needed. The last two days had been spent in a flurry of training, healing, and nights short on sleep. A small storm had rolled in, short in duration but long in fury, and ice blanketed Taliesin City and the palace. More ice meant more falls which meant more broken bones, and the palace infirmary was at capacity. The sharp dip in temperatures also brought on more illnesses, like hypothermia, frostbite, and oddly enough, dehydration. The winter air dried out the moisture from the nearby sea, chapping skin and lips, and exposed portions of the body, like noses and tips of ears, cracked and peeled.

  “The Healer’s Guild here in the city is full, and the palace takes in overflow when needed. We have more gifted healers in the palace, and the few in the guild hospital are overtaxed. They need more hands,” Greaves had told him while packing kits for the handful of volunteers. Jaime had asked why he and Greaves weren’t going, but Greaves shook his head and motioned down toward the infirmary, which was full of patients. “We’ve got plenty of people here to care for, the healers going into the city used to work down in the guild hall hospital, so they are better suited. Now get the rest of those bandages.”