by Liam Reese
How did he die?
“When he was inside one day, sitting in his little corner, away from anything that could hurt him, one of the beams of the ceiling of his cottage collapsed, falling on him. He didn’t die immediately, unfortunately. Only passed on after three days of absolute agony.”
How do you know he wouldn’t have died in a less-horrible way if he accepted what was going to happen?
“He could have been playing outside with us, where even greater dangers would have killed him swiftly.”
You don’t know that. You don’t know what’s going to happen at all. The way the prophecy is fulfilled doesn’t matter. You’re just too afraid to admit that. You were wrong about your power when you thought you had the gift of prophecy, but you won’t admit that you’re wrong now. Humans are advancing, he thought angrily at his great-grandfather, thinking of Lothaire and his plans for an army. When the Aes Sidhe return, we will be ready. The prophecy will be fulfilled another way.
“You foolish child,” was all his great-grandfather said before he was thrust back into his body more roughly than usual.
“You saw him,” Captio said, helping him to sit up as he coughed.
“I did,” he gasped. “He thinks going against the Aes Sidhe’s plan is a stupid idea. He thinks something worse is going to happen if we try to stop it.”
“He can’t know that,” Captio said. “He can only know what is happening currently.”
He helped Croenin to stand, and the young man sat down at the desk once more.
“So, now I’ll talk to Ayne. If I don’t have to kill my sister, I won’t.”
“Even after she killed your grandmother?” Captio frowned.
“She killed her in revenge, at least that’s what she said.”
“Revenge for what?”
“I don’t know. That’s what I hope to find out.”
“How much work do you have left?” Captio asked, leaning on the desk.
“If I work for an hour more, I should be done with all that I am tasked with today, besides checking in with Jehayne this evening.”
“Good. Finish here and then go to her.”
“I can’t. She’ll be with Mylesant.”
“Then find a way to distract the queen,” Captio said, and left.
Croenin hurried to finish his work, and once he was finished, looked around the office for something to distract Mylesant with. He stood, thinking, as he placed the spiral-stamped book back in its spot, a bit annoyed that he and Bruta had gone through with the plan to replace it for nothing. He stuffed the leather “book” under the desk and hoped Bruta would be able to take it back down at some point before Lothaire happened to find it. As he was thinking of this, his eyes fell on a strange little figurine sitting on one of the windowsills. He walked over to it, noticing that its head and limbs were attached to strings, and as he picked it up, wooden dowels tied together in an “x” fell from the windowsill, attached to the ends of the strings. He frowned, wondering if this was supposed to be a toy for Aemis, and grabbed the wooden dowel, letting the figurine drop to the floor. As he moved his wrist, he saw that he could control the movements of the figurine by jerking the strings. Perfect, he thought to himself, and breezed out of the room.
He made his way up to the quarters where the ladies and the queen stayed, and as he walked up the spiral staircase, he passed a flushed-looking Rozaelle.
“Hey,” he called softly. “Where are you headed?”
“Just taking these back down to the laundry,” she said, lifting her basket filled with dresses and slips. “Why?”
“Grab the leather from Lothaire’s study. It’s under the desk,” he said before continuing his climb, and Rozaelle nodded and headed on her way.
Croenin arrived at the queen’s door, where two guards stood outside. He narrowed his eyes, wondering if they’d betray him, but he decided to make sure that Ayne persuaded them not to tell Lothaire that he’d been there. He announced himself, saying that he had a gift for the queen. The two men looked uneasy, and Croenin did his best to convince them.
“It came from Lothaire,” he fibbed, and the men acquiesced.
With a sigh of relief, Croenin entered the room. This one was much bigger and much more lavish than the room he’d seen in his vision, when he first found Ayne. He wondered if Lothaire had moved her around since Eudys’ death. Sitting by the large window across the room was Mylesant. Next to her sat Ayne, who was speaking to her softly. Croenin cleared his throat, and Mylesant jumped.
“Oh! Croenin,” she called out, smiling. “What brings you here?”
“I come bearing a gift,” he said, grinning. “Though it’s a temporary gift. I found it in Lothaire’s office, and I thought it might interest you.”
He pulled the figurine from behind his back and pulled the strings, trying to make it dance. It was simple and crude, but Mylesant laughed and immediately grabbed the toy from him to try. She twirled around the room, playing with it, and Ayne sidled up to her brother.
“Why are you here?” She asked in a low voice.
“Because, I was right,” Croenin said and told her of the passage he read with Captio and his short visit with their great-grandfather.
“I knew he was a coward,” she said, balling her fists. She cast a furtive glance at her mistress and, seeing her still occupied, continued. “So, what does that mean for us?”
“You can still champion the Aes Sidhe if you want, we battle it out, kill each other, and prolong the Age of Oryn and the rule of humans for oh, maybe another day, maybe a century. Who knows.”
“Or…” she prompted him.
“Or we help humankind to build up civilization and raise armies that could fight the Aes Sidhe.” He looked at her to gauge her reaction, but her face was unreadable.
“Our great-grandfather has lived for an inhumanly long time,” she said at last.
“Yes? What—”
“He is only half Aes Sidhe, correct?”
“Yes, that’s correct. But—”
“And we are more than half, which means we’ll live for much longer than humans do, I’m sure.”
“I…I don’t know. That seems likely.”
“So, we’d be like him or Ollheist, in a sense. We’d stand back from everything and just try to guide it. We’d mold the world to our great-grandfather’s false prophecy in the hope of saving the human race.”
“Well,” Croenin started. “We wouldn’t necessarily work in the shadows. This castle seems a good place to start. Lothaire has vision, he wants—”
“He wants to do as I direct,” Ayne interrupted once more, looking down.
“What do you mean?” Croenin demanded and glanced up at Mylesant, who had not heard him. “Did you make him…kill Eudys?”
“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” Ayne said. “Just as I didn’t mean for your stabbing to happen.”
“You didn’t seem too sorry about it,” Croenin grumbled.
“We were still enemies then,” Ayne said, causing him to roll his eyes.
“But what did you mean to happen? And how did you make it happen?”
“Much like our dear great-grandfather, things I want to happen usually do if I will them hard enough. It takes a lot out of me, but if I focus on something happening hard enough and long enough, it always does. I focused on Lothaire becoming king. I wasn’t trying to kill, though it’ll definitely be an improvement.”
“Again, you don’t seem too sorry about all this.”
“Well, would you be? Eudys was a sacrifice to the greater good and—”
“And the ladies, the footman, the—”
“Okay, okay, I get it. But even if they died, I believe their deaths were worth it if the human race survives in their stead.”
“That’s a very dark way of looking at things. You can’t just go killing people if—”
“I wasn’t trying to kill people. I was trying to make something good happen. You saw Eudys. He was a mockery of a leader. Lothaire at least
has vision.”
“He does, but I’m worried the sícharae are affecting him.”
“Affecting him how?”
“When I was with the Faero Ursi, there was another self-appointed king who ruled with the power of the sícharae. He was more heavy-handed with their use, but he was absolutely insane.”
“And you think the sícharae caused his madness.”
“I’m not sure. He might have already been mad before he found them, but I am just saying that we might not be able to count on Lothaire for very long.”
“Then we’ll rule,” Ayne mused, grinning at her brother.
“Us?” Croenin croaked. “We can’t—”
“Think about it. If Lothaire is losing his mind, someone will have to take over in the next few years. I doubt his son would be ready in time. He’s only, what, eight?”
“Nine,” Croenin said. “But Eudys’ son is in line for the throne, not Lothaire’s.”
“Nine. If Lothaire is consolidating power and already making plans to conquer, I don’t doubt he’ll want to put his son on the throne somehow. Besides, you said yourself that we should guide the humans to be ready for when the Aes Sidhe return. If we don’t fulfill the prophecy ourselves, we have to make sure it is carried out in the humans’ favor.”
“Even if we do decide to rule, how would we even have a claim to power?”
“You’re quickly becoming Lothaire’s right hand. He is starting to rely on you more and more. Make him think of you as a son, prove your worth to him.”
“And you?”
“I’ll worry about myself.”
“I don’t like that answer,” Croenin said, still not entirely trusting his sister.
“Why not? You know I can take care of myself.”
“It’s not that. It’s that your unpredictable. Look what you did to Haega.” He crossed his arms, staring his sister down.
“She deserved that.”
“You can’t be serious. She might have lied to us, but—”
“Oh, she did more than lie.” Ayne pushed up the sleeves of her dress, baring her wrists to her brother.
Croenin gasped as he looked down at her arms. Encircling each of her wrists were thick, painful-looking scars.
“Take a good look, brother,” she told him. “This is what she did to me.”
“…How?” Croenin choked out.
“When she separated us as children, she didn’t wipe my memory. Why, I don’t know. Perhaps it was a form of punishment for having hidden from her that I knew I was different. Perhaps she just wanted to make me hate so that I’d become the villain she wanted me to be. But instead of erasing all memories of you and our mother and father, she bound my wrists and ankles with oryn bands, so that I’d never be able to use any form of magic. The only spell she used was to keep those around me from noticing my eternally burning limbs.” She stopped then, swallowing panic at the memories of pain. “I removed them a little over a year ago. By then, my skin, from years of chafing and burning had started attaching itself to the bands, so I was forced to cut my own skin to remove them. Or rather, our great-grandfather was.”
“Our great-grandfather?” Croenin whispered, and then spoke. “You didn’t mention that last time we spoke about him.”
“About two years ago. I nearly bled out after he cut them off me and left, and by some miracle I was found by Mylesant, who was out riding her pony, and some of her ladies riding their own. She was enchanted by my silver hair and took it upon herself to bring me back here and have me nursed back to health. I’ve been in her service since. She acts like a child, and she can’t stand Eudys’ children, but she hasn’t been the worst to work for.”
Croenin was silent. Their grandmother had put his sister through years of pain, and for what? There were kinder ways of stopping her from using magic. Why not just erase her memory like she had Croenin’s.
“You swear what you’re telling me is true?” Croenin asked, frowning at her.
“Do I swear? Of course, it’s true! I swear it, if that’ll make you feel better!” She quickly lowered her voice. “I might be unpredictable, but I am no liar.”
“And your powers, how did you come to learn them so fast? Our great-grandfather didn’t say anything to you about them did he?”
“I’ve had more time than you brother, that is all.”
Croenin nodded slowly. “I’ll have to get back, soon, and take the figurine back too.
“I’m sure.” She took him by the arm. “We were friends once. I have put you through much, and I hope we can work together as friends once more.”
Croenin frowned, surprised by her admission. He merely nodded and gently shook her off, walking up to Mylesant to get the young woman’s attention. She turned to him, smiling brightly, and then letting her smile falter.
“Is it time for you to go?” She pouted.
“It is, and I have to take back the figurine. But I promise I’ll come back and visit, and I’ll bring something even better, something you can keep!”
He held out his hand, and Mylesant gave him the figurine. Bowing, he left, rushing back to Lothaire’s office. He sighed as he sank down in the plush chair behind the desk, thinking on all that Ayne had said. If their grandmother had been so adamant about the prophecy being carried out in the Aes Sidhe way, it wasn’t a far stretch to think that she might try to mold her niece and nephew into their roles. Making Ayne into a hateful, revenge-seeking person through torturing her with pain would be the way to ensure that she went against all that she believed her grandmother thought was right just to spite her. Croenin hoped she wasn’t playing him, that she wasn’t trying to gain his trust only to have him killed later. Part of him worried that her suggesting that they work together might be just another trick.
Croenin stood, taking the figurine and placing it back on the windowsill. As he did, he looked below to where the castle gates were opening. Lothaire was back, he saw, and his heart flew into his throat as he saw who was riding beside him, his own Beltor horse dwarfing Lothaire’s human-bred steed. Croenin stayed glued to the window, watching fearfully as Clythair, smiling jovially, rode into the palace’s front courtyard, dismounting and allowing his horse to be taken by a stable boy. As the two men walked into the castle together, Lothaire clasped him on the back, as if they were old friends.
Croenin quickly peeled himself away from the window, running out of the room and then stopping himself in the stairway. No doubt they’d be heading toward the great hall, and he wouldn’t have time to dart across the large room and head toward the servants’ quarters. He had to find some other place to hide. He ran back up the stairs, looking around wildly, before slamming into Captio.
“Oh Croenin,” the slender man breathed. “I was just coming to find you!”
“You saw him, then,” Croenin whispered.
“I did. I was at my station in one of the towers when I saw him arrive.”
“What do we do? What if Lothaire already told him about me? I should have given everyone a false name!” Croenin struggled to breathe, and Captio shook him.
“Croenin, there is no time to panic. We must plan, and then we must escape if need be.”
“But—” Croenin started.
“No,” Captio said firmly. “I know you have things you feel you must do here, but I am keeping you alive. Do not argue with me. Go up to the children’s rooms. I will escort you. Pretend that you are going to tutor them and remain there until I come and find you.”
Croenin did as he was told, and soon he was refreshing the children on their decryti, trying to think of a way out of all of this. As he was doing so, Bruta burst in, carrying her laundry basket. She waited silently by the door until Croenin could pull himself away from the children.
“Captio told you what’s happening?” he whispered.
“Yes, and he sent me to come and get you,” she said.
“Why didn’t he come himself?”
She looked away, and Croenin reached out and shook her shoulder.<
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“Tell me,” he said. “Why didn’t he come?”
“Because he gave himself up to Clythair to protect you. He claimed you were never actually initiated into the Faero Ursi, so Clythair had no right to take you.”
Croenin frowned. “That’s not true,” he began to say, and then it dawned on him that, technically, he had never completed his first mission.
Captio had told him that his first mission, his initiation into the brotherhood, would be rescuing his sister from whichever castle she was in. He still hadn’t completed that mission, which meant he was not part of the Faero Ursi. But even if Captio had never officially been his master, Croenin could not let Clythair kill him. He would have to prove Captio’s innocence and ensure that Clythair did not leave with him.
“Where are they now?” he asked Bruta.
“Captio is being held in one of the towers. Clythair isn’t leaving for a few days. Lothaire invited him to stay. From what I heard he was excited to have a fellow Rassementeau as master of the Faero Ursi.”
Croenin nodded. “Wait here.”
He swooped back to the children, abruptly ending the lesson before leaving with Bruta. They rushed through the castle, heading back to the servants’ quarters to meet with Rozaelle, when Croenin heard his name being called angrily.
“Come here, boy!” Lothaire was entering the great hall. “You must come and answer to me!”
Croenin stopped, glancing at Bruta with wide eyes. She nodded and gestured for him to go and turned toward the long corridor to tell Rozaelle what was happening. Croenin walked slowly toward the large man, head down, heart pounding. He wondered if he, too, was going to be punished. He wasn’t a deserter, but he had lied to the Regent as to where he came from. Lothaire said nothing as they slowly made their way up to his office and caused Croenin to jump as he slammed the door behind him.