“And what if I can’t awaken the magic?” he wondered aloud as he examined the sword again. “What if it’s buried too deeply after centuries of misuse?”
“Then,” his uncle shrugged, “it would seem we will have been the ones to tie our own noose.”
35
One Boy
Peter couldn’t follow the steady stream of excited chatter Saraid kept up as the tailor finished hemming his ceremonial cape, nor could he focus on the distant horns as they signaled to the city below for silence. Louder than everything else was his own heartbeat and the empty echo of his boots down the long hall as he walked to the outdoor platform.
Dozens of royal and noble well-wishers followed him, each more excited than the last. The king’s advisers were breathing sighs of relief that the kingdom would finally have an anointed heir, and their wives were gossiping about what Saraid and Peter’s children would look like, who would favor the mother and who might have the father’s eyes. The knights were uncharacteristically on edge, even Benjamin, not speaking to him or anyone else. Not that he’d made any effort to speak with them, other than visiting Domnhall that morning to see how he was faring.
Only one soul at the edge of the party stayed quiet and watched him with sorrowful eyes that reflected his heart. He didn’t dare turn around to meet them, but the weight of their gaze was enough to make his already heavy heart sink. If they knew how he had already failed...how he was the reason their true crown prince wasn’t here, they wouldn’t be singing his praises. Far from it.
A cheer went up from the crowd below as Peter stepped out onto the platform. Wind ruffled his hair, and he briefly fantasized about leaping off the edge and riding it. Where it might take him, he no longer cared. As long as it was anywhere but here.
The king walked to the edge of the platform and put his hands on the low stone wall that lined it. When the people were quiet, he began to speak. “People of the Third Isle, we have great reason to rejoice. For on this day, we will anoint a new heir so that when I am gone our kingdom may continue on, fighting our forests and magic and carrying on the proud traditions that we have sought to preserve since the time of the Olc War and beyond.”
Lies. So many lies. Peter stood still as a stone and listened dutifully, but each word that should have been a blessing seemed to drip with the blood of the innocent. He felt as though he were drenched in it, as though the green uniform he wore should be stained red.
“Not only do we have reason to rejoice today in our gaining an official heir,” his uncle was saying, “but we have the promise of a new queen, too!” The crowd roared again as the king turned and looked behind him, his face a mix of delight and relief. Saraid came to stand beside Peter.
She glowed, like one of the sky creatures in his father’s ancient texts. Her golden hair had been pulled behind her ears, but the long, delicately tangled curls rippled down her shoulders and back like a waterfall of sunshine. Gold hoops dangled from her ears, just above the milk-white bare neck and shoulders that she held proudly as she beamed down at the people below. Her emerald dress hung off those bare shoulders invitingly, pulling his eyes farther down to where the gown was wrapped around her long, thin torso, boasting her small waist and buxom chest.
Any man in his right mind could have spent hours gazing at such a woman. Indeed, he would have the rest of his life to study her. But when she turned and smiled at him again, her eyes gleaming with joy, he could hardly manage a smile of any sort in return. Instead, he couldn’t resist turning and searching the small crowd behind him.
He found her standing in Briant’s shadow. She wore a dress that was much simpler than the one she’d worn the evening before, a blue so dark it was nearly black. But all he could see was the familiar ache in her eyes, and to his surprise, he found the first bit of peace he’d felt since the night before. Amid the acclamations and well wishes, she understood. For in her autumn-sky eyes, he could see that Katy, too, was mourning the death of his dreams.
“It is time!” his uncle cried, and the crowd’s screams grew even louder. “Kneel, Peter Kyran Readagh, son of Christopher Kyran Readagh.”
Peter knelt.
The king lifted a small gold vessel. Even with the cork still in the bottle, Peter could smell the scent of lily oil. “By the authority passed down to me through the proud generations of our fathers, I imbue all of the strength and power of our people into you. By taking this oil, you swear to uphold justice till the day of your death.”
“I swear,” Peter said as the cool, wet sensation began to saturate his hair.
His uncle handed the vessel of oil off and next lifted a small silver bowl. “With these seeds,” he said, scattering a handful over Peter’s head and shoulders, “you swear to grow the kingdom to its highest of heights.”
“I swear.”
“And with the juice of these blood berries,” the king took a handful of red berries and crushed them in his fist, their crimson juice running down Peter’s face, ears, and neck, “you swear to remember the blood of those who came before you.” His voice hardened just a touch. “And those who will come after.”
“I swear.”
“Then,” his uncle brought him to his feet, “I present to this people and this land, Crown Prince Peter of the Third Isle!”
Saraid took Peter’s other hand and raised it as well. But in the warmth of the noon sun, as the crowd below raised their hands back and screamed his name, Peter could only feel hard, cold fear settle into every part of his body. What had he just done?
* * *
“There you are!” Saraid chirped as she walked out onto the empty platform. “It took me three guards and two servants to track you down.” She knelt beside him and leaned closer to study the books he had spread around where he sat. “What are these?”
“I thought I would read a little more about the vows I just took,” Peter said, not looking up.
“I brought you supper.”
“That was kind of you.”
“Oh, come now. You must be hungry.”
“I’ll eat in a bit when I’m not around the books,” he said, turning a page. “Crumbs or oil would stain them.”
She sighed and put the plate on the ground. “Really, Peter. What is this about? You missed your own coronation feast.”
“I am aware of that.”
“You’ve hardly spoken to a soul all day. You can’t tell me you’re still upset over my words last week.”
“I wasn’t even thinking of those.” He turned another page.
“What is it then?”
When he didn’t respond, she lifted the corner of the book he was reading and closed it with a huff. “Look at me. What are you so upset about?” She gestured up at the palace. “You have everything you could ever want!”
He finally looked up. “And what do you know about what I want? What I’ve ever wanted?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You are the crown prince. You have every luxury any human could ever dream of.” She paused. “And you have me.”
“But, you see, that’s just it.” He opened the book again. “When have you ever stopped and asked me what it was that I wanted, Saraid?” She opened her mouth, but he went on. “You assume you know what I want. You assume you know what’s best for me.”
“You regret your decision today, then?” she snapped, her voice cracking a little at the end. “Accepting the crown and accepting a wife?”
“No!” He ran his hand through his hair. “I made the decisions because they had to be made. But a little bit of grace would be appreciated. A little bit of seeing me for who I am rather than who you wish me to be.”
“I knew this would happen.” She stood and smoothed her dress down with sharp, angry slaps.
“Don’t be dramatic, Saraid. What did you know was going to happen?”
“All you ever spoke about was that stupid girl!”
“Hold on now!”
“And I knew that as soon as you got her back, you would change. And you have!”
He only stared at her, but she glared back. “You think I don’t see you sneaking off on horses together? Or talking quietly when you think no one is looking?” Saraid threw her arms up. “Peter, she’s the reason you’ve dragged the entire kingdom into what is most likely a curse! And yes, I know about the curse! Yet you follow her around like a puppy!”
Peter stood, too. “Would you keep your voice down? That’s a dangerous secret that should be kept quiet.” He paused. “And who told you all of this?”
“Know this, Peter!” She jabbed a finger at him. “When we are finally wed, provided you manage not to bring the entire isle to ruin first, she will not be living here at the castle! She will not be invited to every family meal! And you will never again spend a moment together alone!”
“That is quite enough!” Peter bent and grabbed the plate before shoving it back at her. “If you think this is how I want to spend my last night at home, then you are sorely mistaken and you can leave!”
“Very well,” she hissed, tears in her voice. She stomped back toward the door. Instead of leaving, though, she stopped and whirled around. “But if you think I’m about to allow some wretched olc wench to ruin everything we have worked so hard to build, think again!” And with that, she marched out and slammed the door behind her.
Muttering to himself, Peter sat down again and opened the book to where he’d been reading. He had just found his place when the door opened again.
“I thought I told you to leave.”
The soft voice that answered him wasn’t the one he’d expected to hear, however. “I...Very well.”
“Katy, wait!” Peter leapt to his feet. “I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
She nodded and looked back down at the bowl she was carrying. It was a long moment before anyone spoke, and Peter suddenly recalled the way he’d left her last night. Another wave of regret managed to crash over him.
“ I thought you might be hungry.” She stared down at the bowl in her hands.
Peter stretched out his hand and took the bowl. He let out a cry of delight when he saw what was inside. “Sugar nuts!” He felt a grin spread across his face for the first time that day. “Where did you manage to get these?”
She bit her lip and gave him the slightest hint of a sly smile. “I might have snuck into the kitchens before the feast.” She paused, and smiled a bit more. “Your cook tastes too much of his own food.”
Peter let out a bark of laughter before ruffling her hair, ignoring her when she tried to shove his hand away. “That’s my girl! This is the Katy I’ve been missing so much!”
Katy didn’t respond, but bent down and craned her neck to look at the books. “Is that the crown prince’s coronation ceremony that you’re reading?”
“What?” Peter had shoved a handful of the sugar-roasted nuts into his mouth. “Actually, this is the traditional version.” He glanced up at her warily. “The one that was done before the Olc War.”
She crossed her legs and pulled the book up in her lap. The sun was beginning to set, so she had to squint at some of the words. While she read, Peter pulled a few candlesticks from his pocket and lit them, setting them in a small circle around where they sat. “This version invokes Atharo,” she finally said in a low voice.
“Something my ancestors have done their best to stamp out,” Peter said, the nuts suddenly tasting sour.
“I felt like there was something missing today, though I couldn’t put my finger on what.”
“It felt like a fraud, that’s what.” He shook his head. Then he sighed. “If I’m being honest, though, I haven’t paid Atharo much heed over the years, either. Only stopped to ask Him for things when I needed them. I did at first, I mean. I prayed nightly after arriving, mostly asking to go back and rescue you. But as the years went by and I lived more and more around those who mocked the god our people had once known...” He bowed his head. “I’m afraid I’ve found myself not only questioning my loyalty but...questioning Him.”
“I haven’t forgotten Him,” Katy said, staring out over the blue-tinted moor. “But I’ve been angry with Him. Angry for being olc. Angry for your father’s death.” She paused, then peeked up at him through her lashes. “Angry at letting you leave and not sending you back. And to be honest, I’m still angry.”
“Father believed,” Peter said, fingering the painted swirls on the side of the now-empty bowl. “He believed when no one else did. And not just in Atharo, but in everything! The legends, the stories, the magic.” He put the bowl down with a clunk. “Turns out that he was right about more than I ever guessed.”
She only nodded, though he wasn’t sure how much of his cryptic grumbling she actually understood. But that was one of the great things about Katy. She listened. Even when she didn’t understand, she was there. Just as she had been during the ceremony that morning. A flicker of anger rose up within him again. Just as she would be forever.
“I want you to understand something,” he said, pulling the book from her hands and taking them in his.
Her eyes grew round, and her whole body went still.
“When I get back and we find a way to stop your manifestation and all of...this,” he rubbed the palms of her tiny hands with his large thumbs. Even now, he could feel the tingle of their power. “I am marrying Saraid, but that’s not going to change a thing between us. Understand? I lost you for too long, and I’m not about to let anyone separate us again.” He raised a brow expectantly. But to his surprise, instead of looking relieved, she looked dejected.
“I’m afraid Saraid might—”
“I’ve already told Saraid that you’re a part of my life. And that’s not going to change. Not now and not ever.”
“Peter,” she said in a gentle voice, extracting her hands from his and taking his in hers instead. He let out a breath of relief as her fingers rubbed his knuckles. They were so familiar, like aloe to a burn. “I’m afraid,” she went on, “that when you do marry, as much as we should like for time to stand still, it cannot stay the same.” She gave him a sad smile. “No matter how much we should wish it.”
“What do you mean?”
She drew in a deep breath and released it. “When you marry someone, you become two parts of a whole. Not two pieces that can separate at whim and then join up again whenever they wish. If you marry Saraid, your loyalty will...must be to her first. She will need you at her side, and you will need to be there, for that’s what you will swear before Atharo.” She nodded down at the city. “Even if no one else believes it, He will be watching.”
“Katy—“
“We might be able to steal a few moments to ourselves now without it being too improper, but after you’re married, it won’t be allowed or even right for me to meet with a married man alone.”
He scowled at her, but she just gave him a knowing look that was far too much like his father’s. Peter took his hands back and began to close the books. He stacked them angrily before leaning back against the castle wall and shutting his eyes.
“Peter?”
“What?” He kept his eyes closed.
“When we were in the forest at the waterfall...”
He suppressed a groan. His greatest failure. He should tell her. She deserved to know. If anyone did, it was her. But like his ancestors, he was too much of a coward. The fear of what she might think if she knew the truth kept his mouth shut. Fainthearted, just like every man before him except the one who really mattered, the one who wasn’t here today because of his actions on that horrid night. Full of self-loathing, he changed the subject.
“Did you ever have dreams?”
She made a face. “What?”
“I mean dreams about the future.” He sat up and studied her. “Didn’t you ever dream of what the future might hold?” Had all of her dreams died the same way his had this morning?
She looked down at the ground again, and her shoulders curled into that defeated slump he hated. “I hardly had the luxury of dreams in Downing. I spent
too much time trying to stay alive.”
“I don’t believe that. You had a vivid imagination when we were little. You could imagine anything.”
Still, she shook her head, a lock of dark hair falling in front of her eyes. He ignored the strange desire to tuck it behind her ear.
“Please?” he whispered, leaning forward and catching her gaze instead. “I’m leaving tomorrow to face who knows what. And according to you, I won’t even be allowed the luxury of an hour with an old friend upon my return. Just answer the question, won’t you?”
“Very well, then. Yes, I had dreams. Once.”
“Any about a boy?”
She nodded at her lap.
He forced a teasing smile to his face. “Surely as a young girl, at least, you dreamed of some young man sweeping you off your feet.” As he spoke the words, he couldn’t help wondering at the sudden flash of resentment he felt at the thought of her daydreaming about some stupid village boy. Still, in an attempt to learn who, he continued the false smile. “Not all of them were cads from birth. There were a few decent ones before Bearnard got to them.”
“I did dream once of marriage.” She reached up and began to twist the loose lock of hair between her fingers. “I thought one day I might have a husband and children and a house of my own.” She turned her face up to the sky where the stars were beginning to shine. “Simplicity. Happiness. Love.”
“And which boy might that have been?” When she didn’t answer, Peter reached out and gave her shoulder a gentle shove. “You can tell me, you know. I knew them all, too.” Still, even as he teased, he ran through the faces of all the young men in Downing, resenting each one more than the last.
She stood and brushed her dress off. When she finally met his eyes, her expression was guarded and her smile sad. “I only ever knew one boy, Peter.” And with that, she was gone.
The Autumn Fairy (The Autumn Fairy Trilogy Book 1) Page 24