Royal Exile

by Fiona McIntosh

  Gavriel could almost yearn for that carefree way of even five anni previous but it was lost to him. And not just because of the toll of years; Loethar was stealing the Set’s future, might well steal their lives if he was gauging the mood of his father and the king correctly. The palace was preparing for siege, and the word was already going out that, impossible though it seemed, Barronel’s fall was now inevitable. Penraven’s people should flee, preferably via the sea, since Loethar had no ships, and no sailing prowess even if he could secure vessels. Penraven’s coastline was so vast that anyone who wanted to leave the realm could, finding safety in the Taramanian Isles to the west, or in the eastern kingdom of Galinsea.

  But there would be no escape for the De Vis brothers. The sovereign was counting on them to behave as men now; the innocence of childhood was a luxury long behind them.

  Leo leapt down from Gavriel’s shoulders, ignoring the hand of help. “Eat your pear,” Gavriel said, crunching into his. He wondered how he was going to live up to the task asked of him by his king, but was quickly reminded of what had fallen on Corbel’s shoulders and shuddered. His brother’s task was far more daunting.

  “What do you mean?” Leo asked.

  “What?”

  “You said you wondered how he could kill something so tiny.”

  Gavriel realized he must have spoken the final thought about his brother aloud. “Nothing. I don’t remember.”

  “You remember everything, Gav. Dates, debts, all sorts of facts.”

  “Quite. And speaking of debts, you owe me two trents.”

  “I haven’t forgotten. Where’s Corbel?”

  “Running an errand for our father,” Gavriel answered, suddenly unable to swallow his mouthful of pear. He spat it out.

  “Worm?”

  “No, just suddenly tasted a bit acid.”

  “Mine’s sweet, just like Sarah Flarty’s backside,” Leo said, then burst into laughter at Gavriel’s astonished expression. “Well, you told me so.”

  Gavriel sucked in a breath at the notion that he’d probably never pinch Sarah’s pert bottom again and her promised tumble in the hayloft was likely not to happen, now that he was a full-time babysitter to the crown prince. Every hour of the day you watch him, you guard him, his father had impressed after the king had told him what it was that they expected of Gavriel. He is never to be far from you. And when the time comes you must disappear with him. No farewells, no packing, no notes left behind. He is all that matters. Protect Leo with your life. Raise him.

  Raise him? He wasn’t ready to be a father figure. He wasn’t even sure he knew how to see to the boy’s needs for a full day. He often still felt like a child himself, usually deferring to Corb’s cunning. And now his brother was gone.

  “Did you see your sister?” Gavriel asked, not meaning to ask something so blunt but needing the image of his brother close. How would they manage without each other?

  “Mother doesn’t know but father allowed me to see her because I wanted to. She doesn’t—didn’t—look like me. Did you see her?” Gavriel shook his head, unable to utter the lie. “Well, she had dark hair. Father told me to kiss her but—” he made a sound of disgust—“I didn’t want to. She felt stiff, cold.”

  Gavriel silently praised the emotional armor with which childhood still protected Leo.

  “They’re burying her in the family crypt. She has her own tombstone being carved. I’ll kiss her tombstone perhaps, shall I?”

  “Good idea,” Gavriel said. “I saw Piven earlier today. I suppose he doesn’t know much about it.”

  The shrug Leo gave was nonetheless rueful. “Piven doesn’t know much of anything. Can I ask you something, Gav?”

  “Anything. You are the heir to the throne, after all.”

  Leo grinned. It was an old jest, which the twins used ruthlessly against him. “Is the tyrant going to kill us all?”

  Gavriel sighed. “Not you.”

  “Why not?”

  “You have me.”

  “I know you’re the best swordsman we have, but—”

  “Of the cohort only,” Gavriel qualified, recalling with pride how his father, the best known sword in the land, had marvelled at the result of his concept to train a small group of youngsters into an elite faction. His eldest son’s escalating skills were the most impressive of all.

  “That’s what I mean.”

  “In that case, best sword, best archer, best rider.”

  “Ah, but not best climber.”

  “No, but that’s because you’re still relatively puny…your majesty.”

  Again Leo smiled. “Well, when I’m your age I’ll be a better swordsman, and I’ll shoot arrows longer and straighter.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Gavriel said, playing along, glad that he’d sidetracked the prince from the threat of death that loomed over all of them.

  “But you do think others will die…that the tyrant will win?” Leo continued.

  It seemed Gavriel had congratulated himself too soon. “I don’t think we’ll come out of this without some death, no.”

  “So my parents and brother will be murdered probably.”

  Gavriel didn’t answer.

  “And likely your father because he’s legate.”

  “I—”

  “And perhaps all the people of Penraven because they are loyal to the crown.”

  “Leo.”

  “It just doesn’t seem fair that I should survive, does it?”

  Gavriel wanted to say that there was absolutely no guarantee that he would—in fact there was an all too real likelihood that he wouldn’t—but that was hardly the encouraging sentiment that his father wanted from him. De Vis had warned him to keep the boy’s mindset strong, far away from thoughts of siege or death. So instead Gavriel placated Leo with the obvious. “You are the heir. You are even more important than the king because you are the realm’s future. If he died without an heir, that would be disastrous, irresponsible and unforgiveable. But if his heir survives, even if he himself dies, there is hope.”

  “And hope is a good thing,” Leo said, as though finishing Gavriel’s sentence.

  “It is everything for a kingdom facing such a threat.”

  “Tell me about Loethar. Everyone ignores me, says I don’t need to worry.”

  “Not your father and certainly not mine,” Gavriel replied, surprised.

  “No. They’re worse. They tell me that Loethar can be beaten and yet their faces say something different. I know they’re pretending, shielding me from the truth. I want the truth, Gav. I’m not just a child, I’m the crown prince. I have to know what we face. And I’m twelve now, almost thirteen. That’s ancient!”

  The prince was correct; he did have a right to the truth. Gavriel wasn’t sure he was the appropriate person to deliver it. He swallowed. The reality of the weight of responsibility given to him slotted into place in his mind and made him feel dizzy with fear. He would give Leo the truth as he understood it; the boy needed to know precisely what journey lay ahead of them.

  “I’ll tell you what I know, what my father has told me.”

  Leo settled back against a tree. “Start from the beginning of Loethar’s life.”

  Gavriel stretched out his long legs, crossed them at the ankle and knitted his hands behind his head as he leaned against the tree trunk. He didn’t feel relaxed but he needed to give Leo the impression that he was. “Loethar’s background is murky. No one really knows who he is but we know he hails from the Likurian Steppes.”

  “A tribal warlord,” Leo muttered with awe.

  “If you want to give him a title, that certainly fits, although ‘lowlife thug’ is my best definition.”

  “A masterful thug,” Leo suggested and at Gavriel’s look of disdain, added, “Well, he certainly called the Set’s bluff. Why didn’t we all just kill him and scatter his mob to their arid lands moons ago?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You do. Stupidity. Obviously each of the kingdoms—and
Penraven surely must take the most blame—believed itself invincible simply because he brought a seeming rabble. We didn’t respect their determination.”

  All true. Gavriel sighed silently at Leo’s grasp of the situation and continued. “We know of no family and to my knowledge we don’t even know why or how this campaign of war began but we assume he dreams of empire. His intention is to cripple the power of the Denova Set, with Penraven the jewel of his new crown.”

  “Because politically and financially we’re the most powerful of all the realms.”

  “Correct.”

  “Yes, but why?”

  “Lo help me—what is your history teacher doing with you, majesty?”

  “He’s so boring I don’t pay attention. Out here with you it’s more fun.”

  “All right, let’s see,” Gavriel began. “Penraven, Barronel, Dregon, Gormand, Vorgaven, Cremond and Medhaven make up the Denova Set.”

  Leo made a sound of exaggerated exasperation. “I know that much.”

  Gavriel ignored him. “Of the seven, Penraven is the largest, the most powerful and the most wealthy. And Penraven was the first of the realms, so the others tend to look up to the Valisar crown. However, each is its own sovereign state, governing itself. You’ve seen the seven Kings coming together for the Denova Meet every three years, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, although I was never allowed to be involved.”

  “No, well you were ill for the last one I recall and barely six for the one before that, still, I might add, sucking your thumb! The King of Gormand disapproved.”

  Leo sniggered. “So another is due.”

  “Yes, it was meant to happen last moon but Loethar’s actions have changed everything.”

  “I still can’t believe we didn’t take action. And he now controls the other realms.”

  “Medhaven is hardly a stronghold or much of a prize but my father heard through runners this morning that Barronel was set to fall—probably later today. We have to hope that some renegades somewhere are hatching plans for overthrow in the various kingdoms. It’s to those rebels we must look, find them somehow, link up if we can.” Gavriel was thinking aloud. No one in authority had said as much but he believed there had to be survivors who were not prepared to succumb to the tyrant’s rule.

  “And so now he wants to rule Penraven.”

  “Yes, but…” Gavriel stopped himself too late.

  “But what?”

  “What do you know about your family, majesty?”

  Leo spun around to face Gavriel. “That’s an odd question.”

  “Do you know its history?”

  Leo began reciting the Kings. “My father is the 8th. Before him, my grandfather, King Darros, and—”

  Gavriel interrupted him. “I mean do you know what makes the Valisar Kings so revered…and feared?”

  The boy shook his head, looked down. “A secret, no doubt.”

  Gavriel nodded. “You should be learning this from your father, not me.”

  “But you can give me a hint.”

  The eldest of the De Vis twins—by just three minutes—felt a stirring, a premonition perhaps. “It’s known as the Valisar Enchantment. I’ve never heard much about it to tell you the truth, but my father told me rumor abounds among the people.”

  “What is it?” Leo asked, frowning.

  “I was told it is a powerful magic that belongs to the Valisar line alone.”

  Leo’s eyes were shining with the intrigue. “So father has it. What is it?”

  Gavriel shrugged. “The power of coercion.”

  The boy frowned, looked at him quizzically. “What does that mean?”

  “Well, with it presumably you can bend people to your will.”

  “Make them do what you want?”

  “You could put it like that.”

  Leo whistled. “Imagine that power!”

  Gavriel’s mind drifted momentarily. As Leo threw out suggestions of how it might be manipulated to their own ends, he imagined instead what could happen if such power fell into the wrong hands.

  “…and Sarah Flarty could never refuse you.” Leo finished, breathless, grinning.

  “What?” Gavriel’s attention had returned just in time to hear the last few cheeky words.

  “Well, you want to kiss her, don’t you?”

  “I don’t think that’s any of your business, your majesty. I should never have mentioned her to you,” Gavriel replied.

  “She’s pretty. I like her. You should kiss her anyway and then you can teach me how to because I’d quite like to kiss Duke Grendel’s daughter but she thinks I’m dirty.”

  “Dirty?”

  “Says I always smell of horses and mud.”

  “Young girls can be a bit priggish, Leo. Older ones are more fun,” Gavriel added with a wink. “Like that delicious new girl, Genrie.”

  Leo screwed his nose. “She’s hideous!”

  “Hardly.”

  “Old!”

  Gavriel shrugged. “Only to you.”

  “And you…ugh!”

  “Older women have experience, Leo. Something you can’t quite appreciate yet.”

  “She hates me.”

  “Ah, here’s the truth of it. She doesn’t hate you, she’s brisk with everyone, very efficient, very…desirable. I wouldn’t mind her ordering me around—” He stopped, catching himself in time. “Er, where were we?”

  Leo didn’t seem to mind the abrupt halt and he hadn’t forgotten where they’d left their previous topic. “But if the Kings of Valisar have this…this power of—”

  “Coercion,” Gavriel prompted.

  Leo nodded. “Why hasn’t my father used it to stop the tyrant?”

  Gavriel stood, dusted off his trousers and hauled a reluctant crown prince to his feet. “Because your father does not possess this power.”

  “But I thought you just said—”

  “I told you what the Valisar legend says. The reality is that we don’t know what it is or who possesses it, how it works, or how to stop it working. Your father told my father that he does not wield any magic that he’s aware of, cannot wield anything more dangerous than a sword.”

  “So it’s a lie, then.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “Gav, you’re confusing me.”

  “It’s a confusing subject. Come on, majesty, we’re late. I promised Morkom I’d have you back to take supper with the queen.” He gave the crown prince a gentle push. “We can talk as we walk but keep your voice low—what we discuss is secret.”

  Leo fell into step alongside his tall keeper. “So if it’s not a lie, what is it?”

  “No one knows. Your father believes that it is a contrary phenomenon, er…by that I mean it’s a thing that can appear whenever it chooses. No one knows for sure but I’m told it can skip generations, lie dormant for endless years if it wants.”

  “How does someone know if they have it?”

  “I presume, majesty, they can test it by trying to compel people to do their bidding.”

  “And my father cannot.”

  “He denies any ability and I think he would have used it if he did possess such a thing, don’t you?”

  “Lo sod it! I definitely don’t have it. But where does the power come from?”

  Gavriel shrugged. “Search me. Born with it, I guess. I learned today that the first Valisar king—Cormoron—who was supposedly bristling with this power—made a blood oath on the Stone of Truth at Lackmarin that he and no other Valisar king would ever be able to use their power against their own.”

  “Does that mean family?”

  “I think it extends to his people.”

  “Go on, this is good,” Leo said, leaping onto a low wall and frowning as he listened, balancing alongside Gavriel.

  “When his blood was spilled upon the stone it is said that a serpent appeared and drank the blood. It told Cormoron that his blood oath was accepted and the magic would remain true to the Valisars and their heirs would be impervious
to its power.”

  They’d reached the stairs that led to the royal apartments. Leo touched the carved pattern in the stonework that was a familiar design throughout Brighthelm. “Is that why we have a serpent alongside the winged lion in our heraldry?”

  “That is precisely why. It was incorporated by Cormoron in a proclamation that the serpent would join the winged lion on the family crest.”

  “Did the serpent say anything else to the first king?”

  Gavriel smiled. “I don’t know, majesty, I wasn’t there,” he admitted, ending their conversation.

  He saw how Leo, while making his way up to his private rooms, acknowledged various servants who were passing them—one carrying linen, another with an armload of tallow candles, and still another with a basin of water. Even though the crown prince said nothing, he found a smile or a nod to let that person know he noticed them. It was a small gesture and yet its consequences were far rippling. For Leo to have the presence of mind already to look beyond his own world and his own needs, to remember that others made his life so easy, boded well for him as future king…if Gavriel could keep him alive that long.

  “No one seems scared of Loethar,” Leo admitted, echoing Gavriel’s thoughts.

  “That’s because we’ve never given them reason to be…until now. Be assured, majesty, the panic will hit soon enough. I think we’ve been wrong to ignore the threat but my opinion is worth little.”

  “Not to me,” Leo said and then froze as one of the servants appeared, walking so briskly she was bringing behind her a draft.

  “Prince Leo,” she said, nodding her head, “Morkom has been looking for you everywhere.” Her tone was filled with accusation.

  Gavriel saw Leo’s eyes narrow. “And he can continue to look, Genrie,” the prince said coolly. “He is, after all, a servant. One I appreciate and like very much but a servant all the same…just like you.”

  Genrie bristled and Gavriel found her all the more alluring for her pursed lips and frostiness. The fact was Genrie was efficient, keen at her job, and liked by all the senior people in the palace because she was discreet and pragmatic. But she had an abrupt, at times superior manner that he understood would certainly rub the youthful prince the wrong way. “Er, his majesty is late because of me, Genrie,” he chimed in. “Forgive me. He’s here now and well aware that he is due for supper shortly with the queen. Who are you having supper with? Perhaps I could—”