The Darkest Night

by Emma V. Leech

  “It was something to behold,” he admitted, returning the water jug to the table.

  “Thank you.”

  Corin looked at him in surprise, and then glanced at the glass of water in his hand with distaste, setting it back down on the table, untouched. He shrugged, not looking at Laen. “It’s the truth.”

  Laen nodded. “I know.”

  Corin hesitated and then stepped forward, his expression intent. “I won’t ever doubt you again, my friend,” he said, the words everything Laen had wanted to hear. “Upon my honour. I … I wronged you. I know that I did, and I am truly sorry. More than I can say.” Corin watched him, those golden eyes waiting, hoping, for Laen to do or say something in return.

  Laen nodded his thanks, but words had deserted him. He wanted, more than anything to say the same. To say that he was sorry, so terribly sorry, for what he had said, and even more so that he had broken his oath and left Corin here alone. He wanted to beg forgiveness for having let his anger and hurt get the better of him in just the way that Corin had feared it might. Yes, he knew if Corin had confided in him that he wouldn’t have reacted so badly, but that didn’t change the facts.

  Sorry.

  The word burned on his tongue, caught in his throat until he thought it would choke him, but he couldn’t say it, had never been able to say it, except to one person at least, to Océane.

  Corin smiled at him, though his eyes were cautious once more. “Don’t tie yourself in knots over it,” he said, turning away from him. “I know. It’s enough.”

  Except it wasn’t, and Laen knew it.

  The awkward silence began to creep forwards again and Laen couldn’t stand it.

  “The pie story?” he demanded, grasping for something to fill the uncomfortable silence. “Seriously?”

  Corin winced and gave a shrug. “I know. I panicked,” he admitted, making Laen feel worse than ever. “You were so … so angry. I just couldn’t think straight. It was the best I could do.”

  Laen snorted, wanting to say something to show that he’d listened, that he had understood. “You didn’t even finish the story,” he grumbled, folding his arms and giving Corin a sideways look.

  “Oh?”

  He scowled, and let out a breath. “You let me eat most of the damn thing.”

  “I did?” Corin said, his eyebrows rising in apparent surprise. “I had forgotten that.”

  Laen sighed, shaking his head. “Liar.”

  There was the barest trace of a smile at Corin’s lips until the sound of a bell tolling rang out and shattered any semblance of calm between them. Laen watched the colour drain from his face as he took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Time to go.”

  Laen walked over as his own guts began to churn with fear. He stood beside Corin, needing to show him that he’d meant what he’d said. “I’ll come with you.” He saw the gratitude in Corin’s eyes as he nodded.

  “Thank you.”

  They exited the tent together and began the walk down the long, stone path to the crude wooden staircase that would take Corin to his place on the field.

  Every kingdom in the Fae Lands had a field such as this, a vast open space with a long, raised rectangle of earth in the centre. The mound was high enough that spectators on all sides would be able to see the kings take their place, and was built from the soil of each of the three kingdoms. This was their place of power, their connection to their land, and, if they were strong enough, the lands of the other kingdoms. Not even the most ancient among them could speak of a time when a king had claimed more than one kingdom. Those stories were legends spoken in whispers, stories of the old ones and a time when dragons were real and the gods walked among them.

  As Corin stepped out onto the stone path, there was a great roar from the crowd that lifted the hairs on the back of Laen’s neck. He stopped in his tracks as the sound rose up around him, enveloping, and making his heart swell with the rightness of what he was doing. He turned and grinned at Corin, who was looking rather wide-eyed, himself. “I think you’ve won them over,” he shouted over the din.

  Corin snorted and shook his head. “The Light Fae, perhaps, but I doubt your crowd will be jumping with joy to see me take the throne of Mechstrana.”

  Laen put a big hand on his shoulder and squeezed, willing Corin to believe him. “We will bring them around.”

  Suddenly the tone of the crowd changed, and an eerie, judging silence billowed around them as King Auberren stepped out onto the path. To Laen, he seemed to have shrunk in on himself, his eyes sunken and hollow and his expression that of a man facing a death sentence. The once-powerful king trembled as he made his way to the stairs and hauled himself up, keeping his gaze downcast.

  Corin watched him go, and Laen could see the fear in his eyes, too. “You can do this, Corin. You are the true king.” He stepped closer to be sure he could hear him over the sound of the crowd, who had begun to murmur with apprehension. “No one who stood beside you on the battlefield doubts this, and neither should you.”

  Corin took a breath and looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “I don’t doubt it,” he said, but fear still glittered in his eyes, so stark that Laen felt afraid for him.

  He frowned at Corin, not understanding it. “Then what is it you are so afraid of?”

  “You’ve heard the stories of the kings who burned, haven’t you?” Corin asked, and Laen nodded. They’d both heard them, of course, had frightened each other to death as children repeating those stories of the kings who were burned alive, their screams echoing over the land that ripped their lives away as the stench of their seared flesh hung over the crowd.

  Laen grasped his shoulders, giving him a shake. “You are the king. You will claim the three kingdoms, and you will not die.”

  Corin smiled at him, though it was not a happy expression. “No. I won’t die,” he said, his voice low. “But … I think she will punish me for ignoring the call for so long.” Laen looked at him in horror. “It was the dream, Laen, don’t you see? The dream that has haunted me since I was a child … this is it. This is the moment it becomes reality.”

  Laen opened his mouth, desperate to tell him he was being foolish, that the dream was just a dream and nothing more … except he couldn’t.

  They both looked up as there was another roar, this time a fierce mixture of support and disparagement from the crowd as King Braed took his place. Laen’s father looked every inch the rightful king of Mechstrana, radiating power as he strode towards the stairs. He paused for just long enough to send his son and Corin a look of utter loathing, and then climbed the stairs to the platform. Auberren was stood on top of the mound already, looking like a condemned man, and rightfully so, in Laen’s opinion, as he’d not noticed the man even take his place. As his father stepped onto the mound, however, there was a bright flash of light and the sweet smell of powerful magic drifted down over them. The relief on the king’s face as he found his connection to the land once more was only too clear to see. Laen watched, scowling as the man turned and gave Corin an unpleasant smile before he went to stand in his place.

  Laen looked at Corin himself to see his friend breathing hard, his hand that grasped the rail beside the stairs clutching the wood so hard, the knuckles were as white as his face.

  “I’ll come with you,” Laen said, determined to stand by him for as long as he could.

  Corin smiled at him and shook his head. “You can’t do this for me, old friend.” The words were warm and appreciative, but Laen was determined.

  “I know,” Laen said, his own words harsh and angry somehow, though he didn’t know why. “I would if I could, though.”

  Corin looked at him and Laen had the sense he was being stripped bare with that gaze. He looked back, unblinking. “Yes,” Corin said at last. “I know that you would.”

  Laen nodded and put his foot on the stairs. “I will go with you to the platform.”

  The two men climbed the stairs together and the noise from the crowd rang in their ears as ever
yone saw them standing side by side as they reached the top. They looked around, and Laen saw the moment Corin found Claudette’s face in the crowd. The royal families all sat together beneath the shelter of a large awning made for the purpose, waiting with fear for the outcome of this day. Claudette, her face white and drawn, but determined, held the hands of both Corin’s parents, who sat either side of her.

  “Father!” Corin exclaimed as he saw the old king there. Laen could see the fierce pride and the terror in the old man’s eyes from here, and turned to see Corin’s throat working as he fought to keep his composure.

  “You’ll make him proud,” Laen said, wishing he was as good with words as Corin, wishing he could say the right thing for once in his life. “You’ll make us all proud.”

  Corin nodded, white-faced and silent.

  “This is far as I go, then,” Laen said. The noise of the crowd began to subside as the they waited for Corin to take his place. Laen watched as Corin took a deep breath and began to turn towards the field, and panic stole over him. He had the terrible feeling that if he didn’t make things right between them now, that they would never be the same again. Corin would be a king, and he … Laen didn’t even know what he’d be any longer. He had to do something to make Corin understand that he need never doubt him again. He may have let far too many years and arguments pass and taken it for granted that Corin would always forgive him, no matter what, but he had learned his lesson. He would be steadfast, and Corin need never feel that he stood alone again. But to do that, he needed to do or say … something … anything. He needed to make a sacrifice, or a grand gesture …

  Laen’s gaze drifted over to his father, who was watching them with cold, contemptuous eyes, and he made his decision.

  He looked around at Corin, breathing hard as the enormity of what he was about to do made heat prickle up the back of his neck. Corin was holding his hand out to him in a rather formal and business-like manner, and doing his level best to look like he wasn’t scared to death. Something in Laen’s face must have arrested him, though, as he frowned, his own fears forgotten for a second as he began to ask, “Whatever is the …”

  He didn’t get to say anything further though as Laen reached out and pulled him close. Corin gasped in shock and then made a small noise of protest as Laen put his hands to his face, keeping Corin still as he leaned in … and kissed him.

  It lasted for only a second and Corin was released, stumbling as the shock of it sent him reeling. Laen reached out and grabbed hold of him again, steadying him as Corin tried to regain a semblance of calm.

  “What the devil ...” Corin spluttered, staring at Laen as though he’d run mad.

  Laen looked at him, at the definite tinge of colour high in his cheeks, and grinned in triumph. “You’re blushing!” he crowed.

  Corin was staring at him, open-mouthed, but at this, he snapped back to his senses, looking affronted. “I am not!” he replied, sounding indignant.

  “Yes,” Laen replied, nodding and feeling smug that, for once, Corin knew what it felt like. “You really are.”

  “You …” Corin began, and then gaped at him, this new state of affairs apparently meddling with his ability to form complete sentences. “Y-you … just kissed me in front of thousands of people!” Corin exclaimed, before hissing, “Not to mention your bloody father!”

  Their eyes slid over to look at King Braed.

  “Gods!” Corin said as they took in the sight of the king in the midst of an apoplexy. “He looks like he’s going to implode at any moment.”

  Laen nodded, satisfied. “We can only hope.”

  He watched Corin turn back to him, and narrow his eyes, the gold flickering rather brighter than before. “May I ask why you just kissed me?” he demanded, gesturing to Laen’s right where the Dark Fae crowds were shouting abuse at the top of their voices now. “You do know that you’ve just confirmed to a rabid audience the truth of those rumours we’ve been denying all these years. You’ll never be free of it again.”

  Laen shrugged, still smiling. “I guess,” he replied, feeling certain that, for once, he’d done the right thing at the right moment.

  Corin frowned at him, so obviously bewildered that Laen could not help but laugh. “But why?” he asked, staring at Laen in confusion.

  Laen took a breath and hoped he could put it into words. “Because I don’t care about them, or about him.” He jerked his head in his father’s direction with a grimace of disgust. “My sister Aleish is proud of me, and I care about that. I care what Océane thinks of me because she is my wife and I love her, and in the future I will care what my children think of me.” He took a breath and a step closer, hoping Corin could hear his words over the roar of the increasingly fractious crowds below. “The only other person I have ever cared about … is you.” He shrugged, then, waving his hand at the men he would have to face again in the light of what he’d just done. “The rest of them can go to Tartarus for all it matters to me. I don’t care what they think anymore, and as for my father… You promised me you’d kill him one day for everything he’d done and … I’m holding you to it.” He stopped, watching as Corin swallowed hard, his eyes filling with tears. “Oh, gods, don’t cry!” Laen said in alarm; there were limits, after all.

  “I’m not,” Corin retorted, though his voice sounded very shaky.

  Laen shook his head and sighed. “You are such a girl,” he muttered, deciding he’d better make the most of this, as - all things being well - the shoe would be on the other foot soon enough.

  “Well, compared to someone with the emotional range of a rock, I suppose I am,” Corin grumbled, not bothering to hide the fact he was wiping his eyes on his sleeve now.

  Laen laughed, beyond relieved. He knew now that everything was as it should be. “Well, at least when they gossip about us now, they might get their facts straight. You have always been the girl in this relationship.”

  Corin snorted and rolled his eyes. “I always knew that was what bothered you the most,” he said, shaking his head in despair. He looked down at the crowd and then grinned at Laen. “I think, however, that Claudette may have something to ask you. I can see the curiosity burning in her eyes from here.”

  Laen blanched in horror and could only be grateful that Océane was safely out of sight in the castle. “Oh, gods!”

  Corin laughed, and Laen could feel the warmth of it. He felt perhaps Corin was calmer now, too, facing what was to come with rather less terror than he had. “And now I really must go,” he said to Laen, his voice soft.

  Laen nodded and let out a breath of relief as Corin stepped forward and gave him a fierce hug, and, for once, he returned it in full.

  Laen released him and watched as Corin turned away and stood at the edge of the platform, taking a deep breath before stepping forward.

  A blinding flash of light exploded around him, and Laen shielded his eyes with his arms. The sound was deafening, ringing in his ears as the crowd below jostled together and screamed with fear. The horizon lit up with the force of Corin’s magic, as far as the eye could see, the earth trembling so hard that Laen had to grab hold of the stair rail to stop himself tumbling down the steps.

  Corin looked back to Laen and let out a breath, looking as startled as Laen was. The two men grinned at each other before turning their attention to King Braed, who was now looking rather less certain than he had when he’d taken his place.

  “I’ll see you shortly, Your Majesty,” Laen said, any remaining glimmer of doubt now well and truly buried.

  Corin frowned at him, shaking his head. “Don’t you ever call me that again, you fool,” he muttered, and took his place on the Field of Kings.

  Chapter 29

  Corin watched as Laen descended the stairs, leaving him alone. He glanced to his left to see Auberren staring, wild-eyed, at the crowd. The old king knew now just what he had done in his desperation to hold onto power, and Corin could feel little sympathy for him as he too looked over the thousands who had come to se
e the spectacle. Too many hollow faces and frail bodies stood huddled together, their lives ravaged by Auberren's pitiless craving to hold his crown. They would have their revenge now, as they waited to see the man who had brought them to this burn.

  Looking away from the condemned king, Corin took a deep breath. He could hear his own heart thudding, even over the noise of the crowd. It raced in his chest, beating the moments past until he would face his own judgement. Fear coiled in his belly, cold and sickening, slithering under his skin. He closed his eyes, concentrating on his breathing until the moment the bell rang again and would signal the beginning. The crowd grew volatile now, restless with excitement and fear. The air was thick with tension, the sense of expectation palpable on the air around them, as the banners snapped back and forth in an increasingly violent and icy wind.

  Corin shivered as a cold rain began to fall, and he opened his eyes to glare at Auberren; as if things weren't bad enough, now he was going to freeze before he even faced the damned fire. He looked over to where Claudette was sitting and saw Laen had found her. He was relieved to see Océane was not amongst them. He guessed that Laen would have insisted she stay away after the stresses of her journey here, and he was glad for it. He saw Claudette smile and embrace Laen, and smiled himself at the idea of trying to keep Claudette away. There was nothing and no one that could have kept her from his side, and he felt terribly grateful that he had the people he loved here to support him. His happiness was abruptly cut short, however, as the sound of a bell tolling silenced everyone around them.

  He watched with a dreadful feeling of inevitability as three red-robed priests climbed the steps. One approached each of the contenders and cast their blessings before them as Corin cursed, though only in his head. He just wished they'd get on with it already. If he had to bear much more of this hanging around, he was going to run mad.

  Finally they left, and it was time.

  The present king would be first to take his turn, to try to keep his hold on his kingdom. All eyes turned to Auberren, who was now visibly trembling. He sank to his knees and began to recite the words that all the Fae knew, learned by heart as children, a prayer to Nerthus, to Mother Earth, to the land.