The Disinherited Prince

by Guy Antibes

  “Poldon,” Pol’s mother said as she took her son’s hand, looking at the bandage on his arm. She turned to Malden. “Is he still doing fine?”

  Malden nodded.

  “Malden told us not to worry, but this…” his mother said.

  “Did the boy good. I never did think he got enough seasoning on his trip to the north. Malden told me you took care of the man you suspected of hiring the thugs that beat up your friends?” the King said.

  Val stepped forward and put the purse of South Salvan money into the King’s hand.

  “Even some Lions.” King Colvin shook his head. He stood silent moving his finger through his southern ally’s coinage. “I’ll keep these.”

  Val cleared his throat. “Your Majesty, perhaps a Lion to Pol as a souvenir to remember his trip.”

  The King looked at Val uncomprehendingly for a moment and then blinked his eyes. “Of course.” He brought out the little purse and put a Lion in Pol’s hand. “This isn’t payment, but a symbol.” The King turned red. Pol wondered what would cause his father to become embarrassed by his words. A symbol of what, treachery by an ally?

  “Other than this, I’m fine. We had an exciting trip, but it’s better not to talk about it,” Pol said, showing them the thin red scar on his arm.

  “As long as you learned what you needed to know,” King Colvin said. “We will be leaving now. Visitors are arriving tomorrow, and your mother has preparations to attend to.”

  Pol wondered what his mother would have to do at night that servants couldn’t do.

  ~

  Dressing the next morning was a challenge for Pol with the stiffness still inside his arm, so he had to have Val help him with his clothes. Pol rang for a meal, but a servant came instead, requesting his presence in the family dining room.

  “That’s odd,” Val said. “Be prepared for anything. I don’t look on this as a positive.”

  Pol agreed, and the two of them stalked through the corridors. Pol concentrated on even breathing, although he was certainly nervous enough to be tied up in knots.

  An attending servant opened the door to the family dining room to show that Landon had retrieved Bythia and Amonna from South Salvan. His siblings and Bythia abruptly stopped laughing when Pol entered. His mother sat at the head of the table, but his father wasn’t in evidence. So his mother must have left him last night to prepare rooms for Bythia, and that meant she might be at Borstall for an extended stay.

  “Pol, come in and greet your sister and brother,” Molissa said.

  Pol took a deep breath, remembering to school his thoughts the way Mistress Farthia had taught him, and bowed to them.

  Grostin noticed Pol’s wrapped arm. “Hurt yourself, did you? Fall on something?”

  “The pea shooter at the Tourney did it,” Pol said, throwing caution to the wind.

  His brother looked confused. “Where is he?”

  Pol shrugged. He struggled to maintain his composure. “Most likely moldering on a forest floor where I put his conniving to an abrupt stop.” He hoped his words came out evenly.

  Bythia shot a concerned glance at Grostin and then at Landon. She obviously knew everything. He looked at Amonna, and she looked nearly as shocked as Grostin. His heart sunk. They had finally all united against him.

  Pol walked to the buffet where food had been set out and filled his plate. He sat next to Amonna and began to eat. Val stayed by the door, sliding just off to the side, observing Landon, Bythia, and Honna.

  Pol closed his eyes at one point to collect his thoughts. His mother gave him a sympathetic glance, but smoothed her face shortly thereafter.

  “We expect an answer from the Emperor in the next few days,” Landon said. A bird arrived from the border letting us know of an Imperial messenger on his way from Yastan.

  A few days, thought Pol. Would anything change with the message? His mother had already told him that the King would install Landon as King of Listya or place him as regent, so practically speaking, the Emperor’s decision would have little effect. The conversation with Pol in the room had obviously changed when he entered. Whispers had taken the place of open conversation, and Amonna virtually ignored him.

  They were still friends when he left, but his younger sister’s lack of curiosity proved otherwise. Pol asked her about her stay in South Salvan, but he only got simple sentences for answers. He bolted his food down, and before anyone had left, he rose.

  “I hope you have a pleasant stay in Borstall.” He bowed to Bythia and his mother and left.

  Val followed him out. Pol needed to sit out of sight of the doors to collect himself, and then he realized that Kolli wasn’t around.

  “Where is Mother’s bodyguard?”

  Val pursed his lips and didn’t respond but helped Pol stand and headed him back to his rooms. “She’s been dismissed,” he finally said.

  “Mother’s doing?”

  Val looked out a window as they passed. “I don’t know, but I heard this morning that she had headed back north to re-join the forces as a scout.”

  Pol was confused. “I thought Ranno paid for her presence.”

  “I heard her family was threatened, but that might have been a rumor,” Val said.

  “That is disappointing,” Pol said. “The danger hasn’t passed.”

  “No, it hasn’t.” Val didn’t prolong the conversation.

  Pol felt something ominous was going to happen, and he doubted there was anything he could do to stop it. Or was there?

  ~

  “I want Father to disinherit me,” Pol said to Malden. “I’m afraid for Mother.”

  “You should be afraid for yourself, instead,” the magician said. “No matter what comes from the Emperor, with Landon and Bythia here, the marriage is a sure thing, and that means King Colvin will have them wed and sent west to Listya as soon as he can.”

  Mistress Farthia sat up in one of Malden’s easy chairs. “I don’t know how effective disinheritance will be if you stay here,” she said. “I had an interesting conversation with Amonna this afternoon. She acted as peacekeeper before, but now…” Farthia shook her head. “I would say she sees you much in the same way as your other siblings. Bythia is a hateful girl. I suspect she will be running Listya while Landon is playing soldier or something.”

  Pol blinked his eyes in amazement that Farthia would be so frank in his presence. “I can’t do anything else. I’ve fended off attack after attack, but they will be successful, even with you around.” Pol looked over at Val, leaning against the wall. “You three are all I’ve got.”

  “Conditionally, you’ve got Kelso, but we all know that he can be influenced,” Malden said.

  “Darrol will follow you to the end of the world,” Val said, which surprised Pol. “If you want to escape, there is Paki, Darrol, and me. I really don’t work for your father, and Ranno gives me wide latitude.”

  Farthia snorted. “Until you get yourself killed.” She looked back to Pol. “We will help you petition for disinheritance, but you must promise to depart for Tesna as soon as possible after the King accepts or rejects it.”

  Pol sighed and rubbed his hands together. He didn’t want to make this kind of decision, but Pol wanted his mother to outlive him. “Let’s do it then.” He looked at Malden. “What are the chances Father will accept my petition?”

  Malden swirled wine around in his goblet. “He probably will, but he’s not who will attack you.”

  “He will acquiesce to any attempt by my siblings,” Pol said.

  Mistress Farthia smiled approvingly. “Good word, Pol.”

  Malden glared at Farthia for a second. “Your mother won’t be of any use,” he said. “She just wants everyone to get along, and that won’t happen.”

  Pol looked at the three in the room. He had to admit that these were his acting parents. His mother, as much as he loved her, had to play her own game to survive and had told him so. Malden, Farthia, and Val had all, in their own ways, always acted in Pol’s interests. Oddly, it
made Pol feel more isolated than a member of their group.

  “So I should just accept the fact that I’ll be heading to a monastery?”

  Val and Malden nodded. Mistress Farthia just looked worried. “It has been a horrible summer, hasn’t it?”

  Pol thought for a moment. “I’ve learned more about life than I wanted to. There are more scars on my body.” He lifted up his arm. “I’ve been injured more this season than at any other time in my life. I wish I could say everything is over, but it isn’t.”

  “No,” Val said. “But then your life isn’t over.”

  Pol looked at all three of them. “Not yet.”

  ~

  The Imperial messenger rode into the castle courtyard. Pol looked down from the classroom window, the best private vantage point available to Pol. His father and Landon stood on the third step leading up to the main doors. The messenger dismounted and walked up to the King and gave his father a deep bow. He pulled a large envelope from the leather bag slung across his chest.

  Pol could barely make out the expression in his father’s face from this view. As King Colvin read the decision, his face turned red. He turned to Landon with an enraged expression and shoved the letter into Landon’s arms, and stalked up the stairs and into the castle. Landon spent a bit more time reading and re-reading the letter.

  Kelso took the messenger aside and signaled to a guard to take the man’s horse. He’d not be a friend of the King this night. Landon trudged up to the door and disappeared into the castle.

  A feeling of unease settled upon Pol. Something bad was going to happen, and he didn’t know if it would happen to him or some hapless servant, but there would be an unwilling object of the King’s displeasure.

  “Nothing good will come of this,” said Mistress Farthia, who had been watching from the other window in the room. “Make sure that Val is close by.”

  “Aren’t you worried? My siblings have to know you are on my side.”

  Farthia emitted something between a laugh and a giggle. “They all know my father. If something happens to me, Ranno won’t rest until the perpetrators are done for.”

  “He’s a cold man, your father?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “In some ways. Towards me, Ranno Wissingbel is just like any other doting father.”

  “You said doting father. That’s something I don’t have.” Pol tried to keep the whining out of his voice, but he didn’t think he succeeded.

  Farthia put her arm around him. “You don’t, and your mother must carefully measure her expressions towards you. This will become an even more hostile place. The rejection will make him more obsessed about putting Landon on the throne of Listya.”

  A feeling of hopelessness descended over Pol. He couldn’t say another word.

  “You haven’t much left in your religion book. Finish it before you retire.” Without another word other than a pat on Pol’s shoulder, she left the room.

  Pol peeked out the door to see Val sitting on a chair across the corridor. His bodyguard gave him a salute. Pol went to the book and thumbed through the pages. He finished a few hours later and turned back to the Sleeping God chapter. The cathedral was in Fassin, near the Penchappy Mountains, where his mother said their alien ancestors might have arrived. He wondered if he would find any clues in Fassin about his heritage. He sighed as he concluded that wouldn’t happen.

  Pol closed the book. It had taken him all summer, but he finally had slogged his way through it. The end of the book at the end of summer. What else would soon end? Pol felt morose as he looked up to see the orange light of the setting sun in the classroom. He opened the door to find Val still sitting. He wondered what his bodyguard had been thinking of while he sat there for so long.

  “We’ll eat in my rooms, tonight,” Pol said. “I don’t want to be around anyone with the bad news floating about.”

  “Not a bad idea at all,” Val said. “The King is beside himself, and the message stirred up all of the siblings, including Landon’s Bythia.”

  “You learned a lot sitting outside in the corridor?”

  Val gave Pol a cold smile. “People do stop by to talk from time to time, My Prince.”

  ~~~

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  ~

  POL DIDN’T HAVE MUCH APPETITE, but ate enough to fill his stomach. Val finished off both plates of food and suggested that Pol retire early.

  Val woke him late in the night The look on his bodyguard’s face alarmed Pol.

  “Your mother has been poisoned. You’ve been summoned to her bedside.”

  Pol jumped out of bed and shook the sleep out of his head. He threw on clothes, not caring what he looked like, and ran with Val to his mother’s chambers. Pol had to collect his breath before he entered.

  He could hear sniffling and crying sounds. Probably from her ladies-in-waiting. Pol entered and saw Malden holding his mother’s wrist. The magician called him over and had him take her hand.

  “She is barely holding on,” he said.

  Pol took his mother’s hand and looked at her pale face. A trace of foam coated her lips, and Pol could smell the traces of vomit on her clothes. He squeezed her hand and just sat by her side, listening to her struggle to breathe.

  She barely opened her eyes and tried to speak. Pol put his ear to her lips, hoping she would say something he could understand.

  “I love you, mother,” Pol said through watery eyes. “Please don’t die.”

  Molissa’s eyes grew wide, but then settled down. Her lips moved again. “Amonna,” she breathed.

  Pol looked around for his sister and was surprised that none of his siblings or the King were in the room. He looked back as his mother’s eyes widened again. She shuddered and slowly exhaled. His mother had died. The shock of her passing was nearly too much for Pol. He wailed and clutched her body, but then his heart began to pound in his head, and his throat began to constrict. He began to wheeze, as he couldn’t catch his breath. Splotches of black began to pulsate in his sight until everything became black.

  ~

  Pol blinked his eyes open and sat up in the dark. He was in his bed, only in his underclothes. His breathing had returned to normal, but the panic of not being able to breathe had shocked him. His next thought was of his mother’s widening eyes. He could tell she wasn’t seeing anything, and then that long exhale. He began to whimper and couldn’t stop. His breathing remained under control when Val opened the door to his room.

  “Are you well?”

  “How could I be well?” Pol snapped back. “She’s dead, isn’t she?” The anger quickly turned to a numbness. Pol didn’t want to move from his bed.

  “We are all sorry. Your siblings didn’t waste any time. Your mother still carried the rights to the Listyan throne, and they put a quick stop to that as soon as the news of the declined petition arrived.”

  The Emperor quickly became an object of Pol’s hate. “If he hadn’t rejected Father’s petition…” His hands tightened around his bedclothes. Pol knew he wasn’t thinking straight, but he was powerless to clear his mind.

  “She’d still be dead sooner or later. Your father or your brothers and sisters wouldn’t have stood for her existence for very long.”

  “I’m petitioning for disinheritance,” Pol said. He said it, but realized that becoming disinherited was too late for his mother. He stifled a sob and just wanted to go back to sleep.

  “Malden has already submitted it. Farthia worked on the petition while you read that religion textbook this afternoon. It may not save you, but I am finally seeing your point about doing all you can.”

  Val left him in the darkness, and Pol could hear him rummaging around in his sitting room. Although his eyes wanted to close, the vision of him mother dying in front of him kept all other thoughts away. Pol knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Pol walked into the sitting room and sat down. “I’m not tired anymore.”

  “Good. Get some clothes on. They are setting up the pyre right now.”

 
“My mother’s funeral? Now?”

  Val shook his head. “No funeral, just a pyre. I doubt the King or your brothers and sisters will be attending. They told Malden that they want her body burned as soon as possible.”

  Pol couldn’t believe his ears. “She was married to the King for fifteen years, just after Amonna was born. My mother was the only one she knew. All of them really, even Landon.” The hurt just overwhelmed Pol until he sat down hard on one of his chairs. “Were you going to wake me up?” Pol said in a moment of clarity.

  Val nodded. “You needed the sleep. I was afraid you’d be joining your mother the way you reacted when she died.”

  “Malden must have saved me.”

  “Nope. When you fainted your struggling stopped, and you began to breathe more easily. So I carried you to your bedroom.”

  Pol clutched the amulet underneath his nightshirt. His mother couldn’t possibly have intended him to keep it, since he would die in a few years. Now, he felt guilty that she hadn’t outlived him. “Her last word was ‘Amonna’. I heard it as clearly as you can hear me.”

  “Amonna? I wonder. Don’t let anyone into your rooms until I get back,” Val said and left.

  Pol locked the door and lay down on the couch. His mind seethed with emotion. There was no question in his mind that one of his relatives had hired someone to poison his mother. He was somewhat disappointed that the last person she mentioned was his younger sister, but then Pol recalled that someone had told him mother-daughter relationships were stronger than with sons. His mind was whirling too fast to recall who.

  He walked back into his bedroom to put on something plain to wear at his mother’s burning. His princely days were over, indeed, he felt like his life had already been snuffed out by the poison that his mother had taken.

  He looked around the sitting room and realized that he had no more ties to Castle Borstall. His real father and mother were dead. His siblings weren’t really siblings at all, but vicious Fairfields trying to rid themselves of him and his mother so they could take over Listya. He wouldn’t stay in the castle any longer than he needed to, but would Val and Darrol be willing to travel with him all the way to the Tesna Monastery? He hoped they would.