Lifting her hand, Raimie brushed it with his lips. “Smart and beautiful,” he said against her flesh.
“This needs to be addressed now,” Kylorian insisted. “I must know how your friend is so familiar with the subject of primeancers. We're aware Doldimar has several under his command, and knowledge of their powers and beliefs are common place among his troops. I’ve only learned of it through interrogations. How did he?”
“Go home, Raimie.”
“No, it’s an excellent question, Ren,” Raimie said. “Kylorian’s only concerned with Tiro’s safety. Isn’t that right?”
Kylorian stiffly nodded. Bullshit.
“You needn’t be concerned with me. Where I’m from, primeancer stories and legends are common knowledge, not that it ever did me any good. I learned everything I know about primeancy from a friend.”
“Who is?” Kylorian pressed.
“Recently passed,” Raimie replied through gritted teeth.
Kylorian laughed. “What an awful explanation! If you can’t provide a better one, I’ll have to take you into custody. I’ll escort you to a cell where you'll stay until someone can verify your frankly unbelievable story.”
“Ky!” Ren gasped, frowning.
“I’d like to see you try,” Raimie informed him through the teeth of his grin.
Kylorian’s hand went to his sword’s hilt, and Raimie readied to gather Daevetch.
“Sir!”
Freezing, both men turned at the call. Oswin hurried down a street leading into Tiro.
“Sir,” he repeated once he’d reached them, bending over and puffing, “I’ve been looking all over for you. A problem requires your attention. Immediately, sir.”
“Really? Right now?” Raimie asked with disbelief.
“It’s urgent!”
“Do I have your permission to deal with this?” he asked Kylorian.
The other man’s surety had shattered at the appearance of Raimie’s subordinate, a stricken expression taking hold.
“I’m watching you,” he replied.
Raimie again bowed to him. It was only polite. He squeezed Ren’s hand. “See you soon?”
“Of course!” she smiled.
Raimie followed Oswin the way the spy had come. Oswin strolled and randomly turned down alleys and side streets, never stopping.
“Is there an emergency?” Raimie eventually asked.
“No, sir. I only wished to provide an excuse for leaving such a sticky situation. I’d been tailing you a while.”
“Thank you for the assistance.” After following for several more turns, Raimie spoke up once more. “Are we walking in circles?”
“Of course, sir!” Oswin replied. “I’m only a bodyguard. I don’t have the mind of a king, one who should have a set destination in mind. Or wait…”
Cuffing the back of Oswin’s head, Raimie took the lead. That man’s sass knew no bounds. In a fit of good-natured spite, he used Ele to pull ahead of the spy. If Oswin wanted to keep eyes on his charge, he’d have to run back to the square.
Anger and frustration still roiled beneath Raimie’s skin. He’d never find sleep like this. To shake off the disgruntling encounter, he’d mingle with his big family a little longer this evening and then climb to his makeshift bed in the lattice above.
* * *
He was in the middle of a meal the following evening when Ren’s adoptive younger brother found him. Watching the blonde-haired teenager bob between clusters of people, Raimie made not a single move toward him.
The day had brought with it a slew of unpleasant tasks. Receiving reports concerning those lost at Da’kul, meetings with irritable older men, and avoiding Ren had taken their toll.
The hardest of those was keeping away from his half-Esela lover. He knew she’d want him to meet with her older brother again, but anger for the man continued to scour his heart with heat.
There had already been one close call that afternoon. Kylorian had come to visit Riadur as Raimie was leaving his family’s borrowed room. Upon recognizing the other man, he’d ducked into a recessed doorway, but Kylorian had been much too focused to notice him. Raimie had waited in his hiding space until footsteps had retreated up the stairs, hands curled into fists. The desire to punch something hadn’t faded until dusk had gathered.
A few more days to cool his temper and perhaps he’d be willing to try again. In the meantime, Ren must content herself with waiting.
Hadrion carried the look of someone about to ask a favor. After the nonsense which had been his day, Raimie was in no mood to indulge it, but when the boy stood over him, he found he couldn’t help himself.
“Do you need something?” he asked.
He took another bite of stew. Cabbage’s crunch blasted in his ear, assisting the low roar of hundreds of conversations in drowning out Hadrion’s reply. Raimie took his time chewing a glob of meat and gristle before swallowing. He set his half empty bowl between his feet.
“Guess it doesn’t much matter what you need,” he mumbled. “I’m a sucker for a cry for help.”
“But your dinner!” Hadrion exclaimed. “I can wait…”
“I’ve lost my appetite. Let’s go.”
Hadrion brought him to a tavern different from the one within which he’d spent the night before. This tavern stood on the opposite side of Tiro, and hardly any raucous chatter drifted from it. Instead, muted conversation floated, and groups of morose men wandered to and from the door, swords smacking against their legs. Raimie recognized one of the men as a wanderer from the group who’d returned to Tiro last night.
“You want me to drink with you?” he asked Hadrion. “Aren’t you a little… young for that?”
The teenager’s eyes guiltily shifted even if his tone was affronted. “I can drink with the best of them! How old do you think I am? Tonight, though, I’m not here to drink. That’s your job. I’m here to make sure you two don’t kill one another before you see how much you have in common.”
“We’re meeting someone?”
Raimie pulled the tavern’s door open, scanned the interior, and froze. The door bumped his leg as he rounded on Hadrion. “No. Just… no.”
“Please, Raimie,” Hadrion begged. “This needs to happen, and the longer you delay it, the harder it will be.”
“Did Ren put you up to this?” Raimie demanded.
“She doesn’t know. Why do you think we’re here instead of Sigemond’s?” Hadrion answered. “This way, she can’t become a source of contention.”
Raimie fumed, his fingers twitching. He didn't appreciate anyone misleading him in this way, especially not Ren's little brother, but Hadrion was right, much as he hated to admit it. If he put this off any longer, it would begin to rankle.
“Fine!” he snapped.
Flinging the door wide, he joined Kylorian at a table in the corner. The two glared at one another while Hadrion nervously stood to the side.
“What should I get you to start?” he asked.
“Brandy,” they both snapped, and Hadrion snorted.
Raimie turned his glare on the teenager, and Hadrion scurried to the bar. He tried to settle into a comfortable position despite his posture’s stiffness. Kylorian had slouched and crossed his arms, his mouth drawn into a thin, hard line.
“I’m guessing he didn’t tell you that you were meeting someone here either,” Raimie ventured, surprised when the words emerged easily and without anger.
“No,” Kylorian acknowledged, “otherwise, I’d never have come.”
“That makes two of us.”
Hadrion plonked two glasses to the table’s surface, and brown liquid sloshed to dribble over wood.
“Oh, good, you two already found something on which you can agree.”
“That you’re an ass?” Kylorian commented. “Perhaps.”
Raimie downed his drink. “You’re buying, right?” he asked Hadrion.
The teenager’s eyes transformed into saucers, but he nodded.
“One more brandy o
ver here, barkeep!” Raimie shouted.
Kylorian winced. “Are you always so loud?”
“No but right now, all I want to do is punch you. Instead, I plan to channel that energy into drinking and yelling for more once my cup empties.”
Kylorian considered his response before draining his own cup. He raised his hand, and the barkeep acknowledged the order.
“So, what are we to discuss?” Raimie asked Hadrion, but the teenager had eyes only for his adoptive brother.
“Ky…” he grumbled.
Kylorian mumbled something under his breath, speaking intelligibly only after a disappointed look from his sibling.
“I apologize for accusing you of working with Doldimar. My father has told me plenty about you, and it’s pretty clear you’re the least likely to have anything to do with the bastard.”
Worry knotted Raimie’s guts. He may dislike Kylorian at the moment, but the man was Ren’s adoptive older brother. He’d no hope of ever winning her father over, and the ideas that man may have implanted in Kylorian’s head…
Raimie shivered. If he and Ren had a future together, he’d love to count more friends than enemies among her family. “What exactly did Riadur say about me?”
“That you’re surprisingly resilient, a decent strategist, and quite competent in a fight,” Kylorian replied. “That you captured Da’kul with two hundred.”
“The victory was only possible because a recent battle had thinned their forces,” Raimie protested.
“Yes, one which you led and you won.”
Raimie ducked his head. He may have initially led the battle on the beach, but midway through, he’d fled. He’d hoped to draw Teron, the enemy army’s Enforcer, away from the battlefield, and his plan had worked. Teron had followed, Kheled had killed him, and the enemy Kiraak had gone docile with the severance of the links to their master. These happy circumstances didn’t change the fact that he’d run away, however, and people’s insistence on calling the battle’s conclusion his victory shamed more than edified him.
Unfortunately, his soldiers remained within Tiro’s walls at the behest of Riadur, and Riadur believed the story he’d been told. If he ever learned the truth of it, the big man wouldn’t hesitate to toss Raimie and his followers out on their ears. So, appearances must be maintained.
“I’ll accept what your father told you has the ring of truth, but that’s all he mentioned about me?” Raimie asked. “Nothing about my family or the multitude of additional aspects he despises?”
“My father trusts me to form my own opinions when I meet people,” Kylorian answered. “He only gave me the facts concerning your military campaign up until now, and I made conclusions concerning your capabilities based off of them.”
The second round arrived.
“I thank you for your kind words,” Raimie said while Kylorian sipped at his drink.
Ren’s adoptive brother nodded, and Raimie raised his own glass.
“See?” Hadrion breathed to no one. “Not so different.”
“Get us another, Hadrion,” Kylorian commanded as he glared.
“In a bit,” the teenager replied. “Finish what you have first.”
Kylorian rolled his eyes, and Raimie found himself joining him. Hadrion as monitor to their conversation was irking.
“So,” he uncertainly began, “what had you returned from that was so essential to Tiro’s security I couldn’t overhear? I get the feeling you and I would have experienced a more amicable first meeting if you hadn’t just come home from, excuse my presumption, a disappointing excursion.”
“Mm…” Kylorian lowered his glass. “Tiro’s not the only center of resistance to Doldimar, simply the most well-hidden. A few other pockets are scattered throughout Auden. I tried to convince them we’d be more successful as a singular group, but my reasoning fell on deaf ears. Most laughed me away.”
Other pockets of resistance? How had he not heard of these? And Alouin above, why wouldn’t they work together?
“Perhaps once they’ve learned of Tiro’s recent successes…” Raimie said.
“You’d attribute your victories to the city?” Kylorian asked. “The battle on the beach? Da’kul?”
“If it gave us a stronger position against Doldimar, I would. In a heartbeat.”
“Us…”
Making a funny noise, Kylorian downed the dregs of his drink, and Raimie matched him. The man went through brandy like it was water, and he worried he couldn’t keep up.
Hadrion trotted to the bar once more. Tables steadily filled around them, but even with the influx of people, the open room maintained its cozy, quiet air. The tavern’s one waitress dashed from table to table like a hummingbird, but she couldn’t handle every order by herself. Men and women approached the barkeep of their own volition, much like Hadrion, and retrieved refreshments for their companions.
“Why does my father dislike your family?” Kylorian asked while they waited for his brother.
“Something something line of kings.” Raimie dismissively waved a hand.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
How to reply? The alcohol had begun to cloud his thoughts only a few moments before, but it was enough of a hindrance he doubted he could successfully misdirect Kylorian. Could he bring himself to lie?
“I’m…” Raimie released an exaggerated groan. “I’m supposedly the rightful king of Auden. Riadur hates my family because apparently, two and a half centuries ago, my ancestor was too much of a coward to defend his kingdom from Doldimar’s forces.”
Kylorian chuckled. “Right. And I’m a primeancer.”
“No, you’re not!” Hadrion laughed as he returned, handing off glasses.
“Yes, obviously.” Kylorian again rolled his eyes at his younger brother. “It’s an impossibility, much like Raimie’s claim to be of the Audish royal family.”
“But he is.”
Hadrion’s innocently wide eyes stared at his brother until Kylorian’s uncontrolled chortling slowed and died.
“You’re serious. Both of you,” Kylorian said, fingers twitching
“Unfortunately,” Raimie grimaced.
“Behold, His Majesty, King Raimie, first of his name. May his reign be long and just,” Hadrion pronounced with a teasing grin.
Kylorian’s face went bright red, and Hadrion sucked in a breath. The younger brother’s hand shot toward his sibling, and the elder’s darted beneath the table. Before Kylorian could draw his weapon, however, a dagger tip rested under his ear, concealed from the other tables. Hadrion restrained his brother’s free arm atop the table’s wooden surface.
“Oswin, that’s enough!” Raimie hissed. “Back off!”
“Sir, he was going for his sword!” Oswin protested.
“I know. I had it under control.”
He briefly lifted both hands, one covered in light and the other in shadow, before dispelling the summoned energy.
“If that hadn’t worked, sir?” Oswin asked, clearly still nervous.
“Then we'd have discovered which of us is the better swordsman,” Raimie replied. “Thank you for watching my back, truly, but please, return to wherever you’ve been lurking.”
“Sir!” Sheathing his dagger, Oswin saluted before melting into the crowding bar.
All eyes remained fixed on Kylorian as the spy departed, and when the man made not a move, Hadrion hesitantly released his hold on his brother. Kylorian breathed through gritted teeth for several tense seconds, piercing Raimie with his gaze rather than his sword. Lifting his glass, he again drained his brandy and made a face.
“I’ll order the next,” he grunted before weaving to the bar.
Raimie watched him go, an animal part of his brain itching to run after the man and tackle him to the ground. If everything previous to his outburst was any indication, however, Kylorian seemed a reasonable and-dare he say it?-likeable man. His reaction to Raimie’s confession seemed utterly out of proportion. Raimie had expected a darkening of attitude. He’
d come to expect it from the Audish citizens who’d learned of his heritage, but to immediately attempt to kill him?
“Why is he so upset?” Raimie asked Hadrion. “It can’t simply be the ‘every Audish citizen hates me and mine’ thing.”
“We don’t all hate you!” The teenager appeared horrified at the idea.
“Thank you. You didn’t answer the question, Hadrion.”
“I know,” the teenager pouted. “Maybe I didn’t want to answer it.”
Raimie gave him his best ‘are you serious’ stare, and Hadrion quickly relented.
“Ky’s upset because, ever since Riadur rescued him as a kid, our father has groomed him to become the next Audish king if- when Doldimar is defeated.”
Interesting…
“Why?” Raimie asked. “Does he have a claim to the throne?”
“Yup. A perfectly legitimate one.”
“Which is?” Raimie was proud of himself for stripping the question of frustration.
“He’s a descendant of the royal family as well.”
“You’re telling me we’re related?” Raimie chuckled.
“Very distantly, yes.”
A relation would explain the surges of recognition the night previous, but…
“How?! The Audish royal family left the country centuries ago upon our banishment!”
“The old king had a bastard brother,” Hadrion said with a shrug. “When the rest of the family fled, he stayed behind. He’s a hero to the Audish people. The man birthed the fledgling struggle against Doldimar, establishing numerous cells of resistance in his lifetime. He spent his life fighting the Dark Lord’s rule, dying at the hands of Xiki, one of Doldimar’s first Enforcers.”
“Obviously I don’t know my family history very well,” Raimie mused. “I only met you a few weeks ago, and you know more about my ancestors than I do.”
“That’s only because your family’s infamous in Audish history,” Hadrion replied. “Most people here don’t know who their parents were. I don’t know which of those situations is more preferable.”
“Well, if your brother wants the throne, he can have it.”
“Truly?” Kylorian folded into his chair with his drink, sliding another across the table to Raimie. “You’d surrender your power so easily?” he asked.
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