Without warning, he took Kela’s hand and kissed it. “I’m happy to have had a hand in your return, Princess Kela Calledwdele of Scarladin.”
No one had ever used her title, nor would anyone think to do so. She had met Turstan under the cloak of secrecy, having made a concerted effort to conceal her identity. She was dressed as a servant girl with a long gray tunic and a leather belt tied at her waist, her hair loose about her shoulders.
Kela wasn’t foolish enough to ignore the foreboding overcoming him to be talking with this Brixtone. “How do you know of me?”
“Let us just say that I realize that the rumors of your existence held truth to them when I saw you in the Black Forest,” he said in a low voice. “I have always held interest in such matters. This time my knowledge paid off, did it not?”
“You are a Brixtone prince.” Her distrust evident in her tone.
His smile widened. “That is true, but I hope you will come to realize that I’m your friend. Today our time will be brief. I wanted only for us to make a formal acquaintance.”
She paused a moment, but before she spoke, a commotion arose behind him. Prince Pieter gave no notice of the guards descending down upon them.
Placing his hand on Turstan’s shoulder, Prince Pieter said, “You are a good man and warrior. You have done your duty well.”
The Brixtone prince turned from her. Kela could not hear the words he said. Instead, she faced an onslaught of angry faces: Silas, the warrior that had flown her to Yucca, and one Kela held dear—Falco.
Joy surged through her heart at the sight of her brother. It took all her will not to run to him. But she could not…she would not humiliate him so.
Though only three months had passed, Falco had changed. His wings had emerged. He looked now like a true Sordarin. Kela’s heart swelled with pride, angered only by her inability to communicate with him.
“Prince Pieter,” Silas stepped forward, gesturing for the prince to follow him. His gaze bore into hers; rage burned within them.
Unflinching, Prince Pieter gave Silas a smug look. He pivoted and took Kela’s hand once more. “I’m afraid our visit has been cut short.” He let go of her hand with the greatest reluctance. “Until we met again, my lady.”
She watched him walk into a sea of Sordarin warriors, disappearing from her sight. A feeling surfaced within her that the man knew more about her than she did herself. The knowledge disturbed her.
“Kela, go with Cono,” Silas ordered. “I have to go report this breach to the king.”
Kela nodded absently still staring out to where the prince had stood.
Suddenly, Silas grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her close. He kept his voice low, but the fury in his tone could not be hidden. “You little fool. I have been good to you. Now, you have no one to blame for what is to come except yourself.”
Before the King
Refusing to contemplate Silas’s ominous words, Kela walked beside this great warrior Cono, as he was called, through the city’s streets. For the first time, the eyes of Yucca were upon her. Though, she realized quickly that their attention was mostly upon Cono.
Even to her young eyes, Cono was ruggedly handsome. He seemed much older than Falco, for he walked with an air of confidence that only time seems to give, but, in all, Kela had learned there was two years that separated Cono’s and Falco’s ages.
Already, the winds carried tales of his bravery and courage. Yes, he was a magnificent warrior with his bulging muscles, broad chest, and the most telling of eyes.
When they walked by the people, she heard whisperings of the great warrior. Small boys stopped their play and watched in awe, mimicking wings with their arms in dreams of flying themselves. Young women looked with desire, old men remembered their youth.
Viewing the massive Great Hall, a sudden memory came to Kela of Turstan talking of Yucca. He had told her of the impenetrable fortress, the unyielding castle was built into the cliffs of the Toir Mountain. He had told her, “You need to see it first from the sky.”
Flanked by two large twin towers, the Great Hall reigned over the city. The austere stone walls rose toward the heavens. They walked alongside of the ashlar walls. She tilted her head back to stare up at the battlements.
“Come. You do not have time to delay.”
Startled for a moment by the command, Kela had almost forgotten she was being escorted back to her cell. She was lost in the wonder of the city, pondering if her father had walked the same street as she was at this moment.
She imagined kinsmen before her and longed to see their portraits hung up in the entrance of the Great Hall. Sareta had told her that the floor was made of whitest marble and golden damask coverings hung on the walls along with tapestries strung with scenes of great Sordarin battles. Outside, though, she stared at the stained glass windows of the hall portrayed Sordarin kings of the past.
“You do not listen well, little one.”
Glancing over her shoulder, she eyed Cono with a reflective gaze. His jaw set firm; his dark eyes held no humor. He was in no mood for banter, but she was in no mood to be hurried.
“Do not rush me.”
“It is my orders,” Cono said sharply.
Kela understood she needed to comply. She had no reason not to…except she had no desire to return to her cell. She feared the king would stop Sareta from seeing her. Her passive young sister would never go against their grandfather.
Kela, on the other hand, rebelled against her fate.
Halting, she stood defiantly and stared down the street with the thought of running. From the corner of her eye, she saw Cono reach for her.
A mistake!
Her frustration reacted. She flicked her hand. Immediately, his hand was propelled backwards. At first, she thought he was going to lunge at her, but he hesitated.
“Think before doing that again.” His eyes filled with disappointment. “Do you truly want to cause a scene? I am not against you, Kela, but I will return you to your chamber.”
His words struck the core of her being.
Kela wanted nothing more than to cry that she needed her family. Do not take them from me! Yet, he was not the cause of her unhappiness.
“My prison,” Kela corrected. Waving her hand toward the Black Tower, she relented to her fate. “Let us go then before I change my mind.”
Relief seemed to flood his face as he led her into the dark tower known as Torni. She was kept on the highest floor. Sareta’s magic had helped her enter and leave with ease, but she had no memories of entering in through these ominous doors.
Shadowy and dank, the entrance was filled with an awful stench. Two brawny guards greeted Cono, expecting to take Kela to her cell. Cono refused.
Without notice, he took her in his arms as if she weighed nothing and flew her upward through the middle loft opening to the top floor, away from the wails and cries of those below.
Waiting only until her warden unlocked the door, Cono led her back into her cell. Her soul deflated. Gone was the furnishings her sister had sent her, replaced with what had been. No candle. No table. No bed. Only straw in the far corner…only light from the tiny slit of a window.
Suddenly, she was scared for the door to shut.
Cono saw her fear.
Standing at the thick, wooden door, he said, “I wish none of this had happened to you, Kela. Pray, be patient. I’m certain everything will settle. You will learn, it is best not to infuriate the king. I will do what I can, but for your own sake, do nothing until I come again. Nothing!”
* * * *
Kela waited in the cold, dark cell, not truly understanding what she had done. She comprehended she was not supposed to reach out to Falco.
Now what was to happen to me?
Silas had said…warned her… that she was to finally meet with her grandfather.
Desperately, she tried to remember the etiquette Guilda had taught her. Keep your head bowed until he acknowledges your presence. Don’t speak until spoken to.
So, she waited.
The silence in her cell was disquieting. Even her keepers were quiet.
Then it came.
A multitude of beating wings broke the still darkness. Loud commands issued announced the arrival of King Edulf. Pressing against the sweating stones, Kela shrunk into the corner with a sudden small and insignificant sensation overwhelming her.
The door squeaked opened, but the light blinded her. Covering her eyes with her arm, she tried to shield the brightness. Figures walked into the cell. Her eyes began to adjust. She watched a small man bring in a chair and a torch. He lit the black oil lanterns hung upon the wall.
Afterwards, the short man fell back to the wall. He said in a loud boisterous voice, “Filia Mithelk of Scarladin, soror ejus Falco of Scarladin, Kela Monicalia Flandigana Calledwdele, his Majesty, King Edulf.”
With those words, he walked out the door. Kela kept her eyes on the spot he had vacated, thinking that his announcement told more who she was than her adventure in the morning. Her rebellious thoughts vanished quickly, replaced with a growing apprehension.
King Edulf walked into the doorway. He bore himself in a proud manner, but his grave expression added to her worry. He was tall as she expected, but more muscular, appearing younger than she had imagined, even with his long, white hair and bushy eyebrows. For some reason, Kela had deemed him ancient and frail, but that was not the man before her.
The king seemed a man ageless in time. He had only a simple leather string tied around his forehead, letting his hair fall loose around his shoulders. His eyes were grey as a clear evening sky; his beard neatly trimmed.
His expression held not only in strength, but confidence. He had not dressed for a formal meeting, wearing only a simple white shirt with no sigil and tanned pants. Leather straps criss-crossed over his broad chest with his sword secure in his sheath.
If Kela had any expectations of a semblance of emotion from her grandfather at their meeting, she was to be disappointed. She studied him, as she was certain he was her, searching for a semblance of familiarity, but found nothing.
His eyes narrowed as he studied her. Immediately, Kela curtsied and bowed her head.
“Kela Calledwdele.” His voice carried with it his disdain. “My granddaughter…a Euchoun.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” she answered. “I have longed to meet with you.”
“Truly?” His eyebrows rose in doubt of the truth of her words. “I myself have found I needed time to deal with the fact that you are a Euchoun…and female. It is unprecedented.”
“It is who I am,” she said in earnest. “I have been told not to question.”
King Edulf grimaced at that. “By whom pray tell? When did you learn of your abilities?”
“I don’t remember,” she replied truthfully. “They have always been a part of me.”
“Did your parents know?”
It took a moment to understand his question. Staring wide-eyed at the king, Kela replied honestly, “I believe so. I remember well the night my parents died. I used them then. Mother was not taken by surprised. Rather, I believe she expected it.”
Anger flashed in his gray eyes. “There lies my state of perplexity. I knew of your existence, but nothing of your powers. The question becomes why would I not been told?”
He confused her. “I would not know, Your Grace.”
“I have thought of a hundred scenarios,” he said grimly. “I come back to only one conclusion. Your ability was hidden from me. But for what cause?”
As if lifeless, Kela stood speechless…momentarily. When she finally spoke, it was with her own anger. “Perhaps, my parents feared for me…that you would treat me as you have these last few months.”
“You dare question me!”
The air weighed heavy on her chest. She noticed King Edulf clutched the hilt of his sword tightly. Threatening me? She took only one step back, readying to protect herself.
“For once, you react as you should,” he said darkly. “Do not cower. Never show fear…that is what you need to be taught. You think I want to keep you here? You are my granddaughter… and you are locked away from prying eyes.”
“I need to be with my family, Your Grace.”
King Edulf frowned. “You are young, but you understand that one born into the House Calledwdele has responsibilities.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“This responsibility is compounded with you being a Euchoun. Your siblings’ fates are far easier. Falco is proving himself to be a true Calledwdele. He is his father’s son. The fair Sareta is a lovely addition to my court.”
“As is her magic.” The words blurted out, but words spoken cannot be taken back.
“Magic that allowed you to live comfortably. It is all that has been asked of her.”
Shame surfaced within her that she had been selfish. She had been thinking only of herself, but she hadn’t known. All she had known was she had been kept apart from her family.
King Edulf walked around Kela, looking her up and down. “You are a wee little thing. I find it hard to believe the power attributed to you if not for your cousin seeing it first-hand…that and the fact that the Prince of Brixtone must have experienced it at one time. Am I wrong?”
Kela could do nothing more than nod her head.
He smiled a knowing smile. “I expected as much with the arrangement he tricked me into making.”
“I don’t understand,” she said in a small, thin voice.
“Nor should you,” he replied, stopping in front of her. He was not pleased. His mouth twisted downward. “What you should understand is the consequence of disobeying your king.”
A deadly silence ensued. As brave as Kela thought she was, her legs trembled. Drawing in a deep breath, she dropped to one knee. “Your Grace, I beg your forgiveness. It was only my deep need to see my brother.”
“A weakness,” he uttered sourly. “A Euchoun’s path is of sacrifice. Their one purpose is to protect. Do you not realize the responsibility given to you? The people believe that Euchouns are sent from our God to protect us.”
“I will not disappoint,” she vowed.
“Disappoint? What other outcome can there be?” King Edulf said brusquely. “You are a weakling. A Euchoun needs a heart of steel. You have no discipline…look at you—you are trembling before me. What will you do when you face an Arachnidan? When a Euchoun goes into battle, there can be no hesitation. What can we expect from you once you experience a man split apart in front of you? War is bloody. Men die.”
“I did not freeze when your guards attacked my family,” Kela spoke boldly, rising back to her feet. “I protected my family. Turstan has taught me well. I will not falter in the face of danger.”
“But you hurt your own. You almost destroyed the whole of my Wings.”
“I did only what I had to do. I had no knowledge the Wings were friends. My instincts called to me as they did when the traitorous Lord Dyer attacked my mother…”
“Lord Dyer—a traitor?” King Edulf interrupted. His voice full of doubt. “What say you?”
“Lord Dyer betrayed my father and mother. That I know to be true.”
For a long moment, King Edulf said nothing. He turned his back to her, and then, pivoted around. He shook his head, refusing to believe. “Lord Dyer was a faithful servant. What purpose would he have to betray me?”
“That I have no knowledge, but why would not have Falco and Turstan told you this?”
“Turstan said it was thought that Lord Dyer had turned the men. I would not let him continue to blacken the man’s name. Turstan saw nothing, neither did Falco.”
“But I did. The night is etched into my memory. I was there when Mother realized my father was dead. She saw it in a vision.”
“Vision? What did she see in this vision?” King Edulf demanded. He took a step forward and stopped directly in front of her. His eyes bored into her.
Kela felt fear stirring within her again. The king had no desire to hear the truth of
the night. No desire to hear that one of his most trusted men had betrayed him, but the words needed to be said, needless of what might come next.
“She said she saw Father lying on a battlefield…that he was dead because of trusting his own. His Wings had been slaughtered. She saw the assailants were other Sordarins, but the one that killed Father stood in the shadows.”
For a moment, King Edulf looked off into the darkness. “Do you know what you are saying? That my son was killed by his own?”
“I have no doubt, neither does Falco or Turstan.” Kela held confidence in her brother and Turstan. Both would have repeated that they had been betrayed by Sordarins. “Who would you have thought killed Father…destroyed Nottesdone?”
King Edulf looked upon her, grave and stern. “Witheleghe. Since that fateful night, it has been my belief that your mother killed my son. I thought she took you back into her realm. Why else would I have made Renwick crowned prince?”
He gave her no time to answer. “I have known that Falco lived. The mark of our house has never appeared upon Renwick, but I never thought I would see Falco again. Withelegheans are deceitful creatures.”
On that, Kela lost her fear. She stated clearly, “My mother was not. She sacrificed herself so we would live. Both Witheleghe and Scarladin were betrayed. I know only that Asmeodai is behind the terror…that he has taken Witheleghe and seeks a portal to conquer the Siochanta Realm.”
“What do you know of such things? The ramblings of an old Witheleghean nurse who has raised you?”
Kela saw anger in his eyes, even hatred. Confusion warred within her. Her heart pierced under the king’s stare with the realization that her own blood held her in contempt.
“I speak only what I know is true. There was worry Cyaika, Asmeodai’s mate, had already crossed. I would not lie to you, Your Grace.”
King Edulf frowned down at her. “There is much for you to learn. I tremble at the thought if our fate relies upon Euchouns such as you, but I cannot ignore that you are a Euchoun, not with the threat that looms on the horizon. To dismiss the signs would be a fatal mistake. I do not make mistakes.”
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