The Shadow's Heir

by K J Taylor

  And that was it. She was married.

  • • •

  Another procession took Laela back to the palace, but this time she walked to the front by her new husband’s side. Another feast had been laid out in the hall. A huge main table had been set up, and she sat at the head of it by the Prince’s side, where dish after exotic dish was laid out for her to try. She ate plenty, even when she didn’t recognise the food, which was most of the time. Everything was delicious.

  The Prince stayed by her, and so did every bit of the charm he had showed in the Temple. He kept his attention on her, pointed out the best foods, and talked almost only to her. Small talk for the moment, nothing very serious, but Laela drank in every word. She felt like she was in paradise.

  Oeka, meanwhile, looked to have had good luck, too. The Prince’s partner was a big, dark brown male griffin, and he and Oeka were eating the carcasses provided—in between making playful darts and hops toward each other. Even Laela knew enough by now to recognise griffish flirting when she saw it.

  The feasting went on well into the afternoon, and featured several performances by dancers and musicians, and even a pair of entertainers, who juggled a handful of razor-sharp knives between them. Laela enjoyed herself immensely.

  When the celebrations finally began to quiet down, Prince Akhane stood up—signalling that it was time for him and his bride to leave. Laela went with him quite happily, and the two griffins followed at a relaxed distance. They went, not back to Laela’s rooms, but to another, much larger chamber that she quickly realised must belong to the Prince. The vaulted ceiling was painted with a beautiful mural of suns and clouds, and the walls were lined with bookshelves recessed into the stone itself. The large, silk-covered bed had netting draped over it to keep out mosquitoes, but that only served to make it look more exotic and exciting.

  The Prince courteously ushered her to a low table surrounded by cushions. “Please do sit with me. I hope my room is to your liking.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Laela said honestly, accepting the seat. In the background, Oeka wandered off into the adjoining nest chamber with her new friend, and Inva and the other attendants stationed themselves discreetly around the room, ready to leap in the moment they were needed.

  The Prince sat down close by Laela—close enough that they were touching. “How did you enjoy the feasting, my lady?”

  “It was great,” said Laela. She smiled shyly at him. “Yeh can call me Laela now, I think. I mean, now I’m yer wife an’ all.”

  “Of course, Laela.” He smiled back. “Call me Akhane, then. Forgive me if I am awkward, but this is my first . . . I mean, I have never . . .”

  “What is it?” Laela wanted to touch his face.

  He smiled again, but there was a hint of nervousness there now. “You are my first wife. I have never married before.”

  “Me neither,” said Laela. She settled down, leaning against him. He put an arm around her, his hand resting on her lap. For a while the two of them stayed like that, warmth mingling, hearts beating in time.

  “I hope I ain—I’m not too disappointing for yer first wife,” Laela said eventually. “I mean, bein’ what I am.”

  “What?” Akhane’s arm tightened slightly on her. “No, not at all. I hope I did not make you think so; if I did, I did not mean it.”

  “I’m a half-breed, though,” said Laela. “And a b—not legitimate.”

  “I don’t mind.” The Prince lifted her chin so he could look her in the face. “Your eyes are magnificent. Blue as the sky. I have never seen eyes like them.”

  Laela realised she was blushing. “Thanks . . .”

  “You seem ashamed,” he commented. “Is being a half-breed so shameful?”

  “I dunno,” said Laela. “I mean, it’s . . . not easy sometimes.”

  “Tell me about it.” He sounded as if he really was interested. “I have always wanted to know more about your homeland. Tell me about your life there. What it is like for you as a half-breed.”

  So Laela told him. She told him about the North and about the South, and about how both the races there lived. She told him about the Eyries, and the wars. And she told him about what it was like to be a half-breed in Cymria. He listened and almost never interrupted, only asking a few quiet questions here and there, and she found herself going on, telling him things she had forgotten she knew.

  “You love this place,” Akhane said when she had finally begun to run out of words. “This land you came from.”

  “Yeah.” Laela smiled. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

  “I would dearly love to see it one day,” Akhane mused. “Perhaps I will come and visit you there.”

  “Please do,” Laela blurted. “I’m sure yeh’d be welcome. I could show yeh everything—the Eyrie, the Hatchery, the Temple . . .”

  “I would like that.”

  Inva had put some wine on the table for them. Laela took some and drank to soothe her dry throat. “So that’s about all there is from me,” she said, feeling bolder now. “Why don’t you tell me about you now?”

  “Me?” Akhane sounded a little taken aback. “Oh . . . there is not much for me to tell.”

  “Tell just that, then,” said Laela. “I wanna know more about my husband.”

  “As you wish.” Akhane sipped from his own cup, and began. “I was born here in Instabahn, and the Emperor is my father as you know. But the Emperor has five sons, and I am the youngest, born from one of his minor wives. She came from the Maijan Islands, sent over as a gift by her father, who governs one of the islands. I am—was—the only one of the Emperor’s sons to be unmarried, and since I am a lowly son, there was no hurry to find a first wife for me.”

  “What do you do, then?” asked Laela. “Does the Emperor ask yeh to do things for him? Do yeh have duties?”

  “Few,” said Akhane. “I have no prospect of ever taking the throne, and my duties are purely ceremonial. Most of my brothers are governing the outlying states or fighting in Erebus, but I am the scholarly member of the Imperial Family, and spend most of my time with my books. But I travel as well, to Maijan and even to Erebus. To learn.”

  “Learn what?” Laela nearly squirmed with excitement—she didn’t think she’d even heard of Erebus, which lay even further east than Amoran.

  “Everything there is to know,” said Akhane. “But I have a great interest in magic and the mysteries of the gods.” He drank more wine. “I chase legends, myths, rumours, always searching.”

  “For what?” Laela was loving every moment of this.

  Akhane’s brow furrowed slightly. “I am convinced that griffins are not the only living creatures that can use magic. Somewhere in this world, I believe, there are humans who have unnatural powers—perhaps magical, or something beyond even that.”

  Laela thought of Arenadd. “And what have yeh found?”

  “Nothing. Nothing solid. But I will go on searching. Perhaps I should try your own homeland next, do you think?”

  His tone was playful, but Laela nodded. “I think there are things in Cymria that might be like what you’re lookin’ for.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Well then, I shall have to come by one day.” Akhane stretched, and glanced at the window, where the light was beginning to turn gold and orange. “Now then, there is a more important matter to speak of.”

  “What’s that?” Laela’s heart beat faster in anticipation.

  “As your new husband, it is traditional that I give you a gift,” said Akhane. “On our wedding night, you may name any gift that I can give, and you will have it.”

  “Oh.” The question caught Laela off guard. She looked speculatively around the room, taking in the decorations. “Anything?”

  “For you, anything.”

  “All right, then.” Laela pointed. “That’s what I want.”

  Akhane followed her finger. “Her?”

  Inva froze.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” said Laela. “I
want her. That slave right there.”

  “Are you certain . . . ?” Akhane looked nonplussed.

  “That’s all right, isn’t it?” said Laela. “Slaves are property. So yeh can give one to me.”

  “Certainly, but it is a very odd gift to ask for,” said Akhane. “She is only one house-slave, and I did not think your people kept slaves—especially not of your own kind.”

  “We don’t,” said Laela. “But I ain’t keepin’ her. I want you t’give her to me, so I can set her free.”

  Inva hadn’t moved, or spoken in all this time. Her face had gone carefully blank.

  “And then?” Akhane inquired.

  “An’ then she can decide what to do,” said Laela, raising her voice for Inva’s benefit. “But if she wants, I’ll take her back home an’ give her somewhere to live. That’ll be up to her, though.”

  “Very well, then,” said Akhane. “If you want her, she is yours. But one slave is a very modest gift, especially if you do not intend to keep her.”

  “Agreed,” said Laela. “I’ll take a hundred.”

  Akhane broke into a fit of coughing. “One hundred . . . ?”

  Laela couldn’t help it: She burst out laughing. “All right, I was just jokin’. We’ll pay for them.”

  Akhane managed to stop coughing and laughed as well. “It is fine; I already knew that you and your father were here to bring your kind back to their homeland. We have many darkmen here, spread over the Empire—I doubt anyone knows just how many. It will take a long time and much trading to gather them all, and we will need to find new slaves to replace them before we let them go.”

  “I know.” Laela sighed. “It’s hard. But I did this for them, so they could come back to us eventually.”

  “I understand,” said Akhane. “And you understand that I admire you very much for it. Without slaves, your nation will always be small, but you place loyalty to your people before power to your country. If only more countries in this world had that love for humankind. And I will give you one hundred slaves, as you have asked.”

  Now it was Laela’s turn to choke. “What? I mean—really?”

  “Yes. With my father’s help, I will see it done. It will take time, but this one here will go back with you at least. The rest will follow.”

  Laela kissed him. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” She kissed him again.

  He looked surprised, but he was quick to kiss her back. “Shall we . . . ?” he said eventually.

  Laela kissed him a third time by way of an answer. For the briefest moment, as she held him close, she thought of Yorath. But Yorath was at home, and she was going back to him. Akhane was here right now, and there was a good chance she would never see him again. And she owed him this much at least.

  Not that she honestly wanted to do it just for his benefit. She was more than happy to do it for herself as well.

  28

  The Dark Lady

  After what had happened in the Temple, whatever insane will had been keeping Arenadd together disappeared. He woke a few times, briefly, but into a world full of such agony that his mind refused to bear it and no matter how hard he tried to stay awake, he slid back into a half-conscious state where there was no thought, no sight or hearing, and only the vaguest sensation of pain. His mind, set free from the bonds of his ruined body, lost itself in dark dreams and memories, and he drifted away—unable to sense night or day or the passing of time.

  Somewhere in the remnants of what had been his thoughts, he knew that he was dying.

  He was too far gone to be afraid any more.

  The dreams were his world now. He saw Skade; sometimes human, sometimes griffin, but always with a smile in her eyes that was just for him. She flitted here and there through the shadows, holding out a hand—inviting him to join her. Skandar was there, too, screeching defiance at the great light of the relentless sun. And others, too. People he thought he’d forgotten long ago. His old warriors, dead during the war. Arddryn was with them, scowling to herself. Sometimes, she looked like Saeddryn.

  And there was a white griffin. She said nothing and never looked at him. Arenadd saw her flying, always away from him, looking for something she had lost.

  An egg hatched, and Laela came out of it, but she didn’t have a smile for him now. She wore a black robe, and her brow was furrowed. She looked much older than he remembered.

  Only the Night God was missing. Arenadd wandered alone through a night without moon or stars, searching for her—calling her name. But she never came, and no voice answered his cries. He needed her now, but he knew she wouldn’t come. She knew he had betrayed her.

  The dreams went on for a long time, but eventually the day came when they grew confused. He began to wake up from them more often, and every time he woke, the pain was a little less. And the more he woke, the more he began to realise that the dreams weren’t real, that he had another place to belong to, a real place. When he realised that, the part of him that wanted to wake grew stronger, and he fought to hold on to it. He remembered what had happened, and knew other, far worse things must be happening even now while he was helpless. Anxiety worked at him, and only helped him to wake up once again.

  His eyes opened at last, and he could see. Paralysed, he peered at the ceiling above him. It was wooden. There was light, so it must be day . . . but no, he thought . . . too dim. Coming from somewhere. Lantern, his inner voice said after a fierce struggle. Lamp.

  Night, then. He sighed very faintly. Blessed night.

  After that, he closed his eyes and slept again.

  But he woke again several more times—always at night, and each time he felt stronger and stayed awake longer.

  Little by little, he pieced together that he was in a ship’s cabin—the same cabin he’d lived in on the journey to Amoran.

  His mind was painfully sluggish now, but it didn’t take him long to realise that he must be on his way home.

  His first feeling was relief. No more blazing sun. No more strange, dark-skinned sun worshippers. No more Gryphus, glaring down from the sky with hatred.

  But relief was quickly followed by guilt and despair. The slaves. He hadn’t freed them. He hadn’t completed the alliance negotiations with the Emperor.

  His entire journey and all the suffering it had brought had been for nothing.

  Arenadd closed his eyes again, nursing his pain, and slept.

  • • •

  Two days later he woke again. The moment he opened his eyes, he felt new strength in his mind and body. He was recovering.

  He breathed deeply and turned his head for the first time since his accident.

  Laela was there, sitting beside his bed. She wore a light gown, and her expression was guarded.

  Arenadd felt his lips twist into a weak smile. “Laela,” he rasped.

  Laela nodded curtly. “So yeh’ve come back to us at last, Sire.”

  “Going . . . home?” Arenadd managed.

  “It’s the best thing for yeh, Sire,” said Laela.

  He slumped onto his pillows. “But the slaves . . . the agreement . . . I never . . .”

  “I took care of it, Sire,” said Laela.

  Arenadd stared stupidly at her. “What?”

  “I said I took care of it,” said Laela. She examined her fingernails. “I sealed the deal with the Emperor. The alliance is signed. There are a hundred slaves comin’ home with us, an’ the Emperor promised the rest would be ready once we’d sent payment.”

  “Payment?” said Arenadd. “What . . . payment?”

  “Goods, mostly,” said Laela. “Wool, silver, furs . . . that sort of thing. I bought most of the ones we’ve got with us now with the treasure from that pirate ship. The Emperor gave me the rest as a present.”

  Arenadd lay there, quite unable to grasp the magnitude of what she was saying. “But how . . . ?”

  “I’m the Master of Wisdom,” said Laela. “Second-most senior out of all the Northerners who were in Amoran. With you out of it, Oeka an’ me to
ok charge. I did what I thought was best.”

  “The marriage,” Arenadd said eventually. “I didn’t . . .”

  “Sorted,” said Laela. “I did that, too.”

  Arenadd struggled to raise his head, and gave up. “How?”

  “The Emperor’s got a son,” said Laela. “I married him. It was a very nice wedding.”

  “You . . . married the Emperor’s son?”

  “Yeah,” said Laela. “He ain’t comin’ North with us. It was more like a formality. The Princess gets t’stay home. But Vander’s with us. Him an’ Ymazu. They’re gonna leave us when we get to Maijan. So that’s it, then,” she finished, as if it were nothing very important. “I’ve sorted it all out, an’ we can go home. Job done.”

  Arenadd lay still, breathing rapidly. “You see now,” he whispered. “You really are . . . like me.” He coughed. “The better side of me.”

  Laela didn’t smile. “I wanted t’ask yeh somethin’. I’ve been waitin’ weeks t’ask it, an’ I ain’t waitin’ any longer.”

  Arenadd tried to sit up. Instantly, pain crackled through his chest, and he fell back.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said Laela. “Yer chest’s got a hole as long as my finger right through the middle. I gotta say, though, yer lookin’ pretty good for a man who had this taken out of him.” She took something from a table beside her and held it up.

  It was a piece of sword blade, as wide as Arenadd’s hand.

  “Them Amorani healers are damn good,” said Laela. “They couldn’t figure out why the wound wouldn’t stop bleedin’, so they went in there an’ had a look, an’ sure enough they found this lodged right inside yer rib cage. Looked like it’d been in there a while.” Her eyes narrowed. “Ever since the day Erian an’ his sister Flell died, I’d guess.”

  Arenadd stared at the piece of metal. His expression did not change.

  “Funny coincidence,” Laela went on. “But it’s that day I wanted t’ask yeh about.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “Flell’s child. The one yeh didn’t kill.”