by L Ward
Gerard made an odd, strangled noise as though he literally fought back his words.
“We can talk rationally about this,” Nath addressed Gerard. The atmosphere sparked with combustion; smelled of bonfires and tasted of ash.
“This is what you get for putting it about with common girls,” Gerard snarled. “We’re leaving.”
Will’s eyes shifted from his dad to Evan and finally to Nath. “People get bastards all the time. I don’t know see why this is any different!”
“It’s not that you got one, it’s who you got it with. You’ve embarrassed your family!”
“I’ve put up with a lot but I’m not going to put up with anyone disrespecting my sister like this!” Evan snapped, glaring at Gerard.
Gerard raged, fists shaking. He turned to Nath with a hardened gaze. “I apologise for this, Your Highness. I’ll take him home and sort him out there.” He was being proper but the look in his eye was bordering on mania.
“Good evening,” said Marianne, and briskly departed. Gerard snapped his fingers at Will, and they left behind her in a haze of smoke and disappointment.
“Are you feeling any better?” Nath asked, pulling Evan’s legs across his lap.
Evan sighed. “Yeah, but it doesn’t change what’s happened.”
“No, but in time it’ll get easier. Shall we go to bed?” He looked tired, tomorrow his parents would return, and things would go back to this new shade of normality.
“Please,” said Evan.
∞∞∞
“Have you heard anything from the Privy Council yet?”
“Hopefully we’ll have news by Monday,” said Evan when they collapsed into their mountainous bed. He was still tired from the workload, but less so than yesterday. Perhaps he was starting to adjust to this new life.
“The media have wind of it, there was an article in one of the papers this morning,” said Nath, nuzzling into his neck. “Mostly filled with questions and concerns, but overall it read quite neutrally.”
“It’s not the biggest news, everyone’s following Gibraltar, as they should,” said Evan. News was spreading a wildfire, arriving in bursts by long-distance spellogram. The talks were becoming heated and long hours of radio silence crippled the starving vultures that called themselves journalists. Evan wondered how long it would be before they started making stuff up and printing it as fact.
“Your work is incredibly important too, Evan. When the King and Queen return, and the Privy Council have finished putting things into place, the coverage for this will be excellent.”
Evan hoped that were true. Sort of. He wasn’t used to talking to the media yet, or remembering himself all the time. There was so much protocol, endless expectations and etiquette to remember. “How were your meetings today?” he asked, wanting a change of subject.
“Dreadfully boring,” said Nath, grinning. “We talked about donations to the university, and where they’re best spent; there was talk of summer events, charities, updates to the Prince’s Neurological Trust, public complaints, and they briefed me on the situation abroad.”
“I’m still amazed how you can keep track of so many things at once,” Evan laughed. “How’s the Trust?”
“We’ve had two lycanthrope submissions this past week,” said Nath, excitement dancing like fire in his eyes. “A man and a woman both injured after their last transformations. The woman believes she encountered the wolf pack in the woods before their first attack.”
“Was she involved?”
“No, she’s offered information in exchange for medical treatment. An officer has gone to speak with her tonight.”
“She could be a contender for integration,” said Evan.
“It’s rather exciting, isn’t it?” asked Nath, eyes twinkling with boyish playfulness. “And once tomorrow is over we can relax, and be newlyweds for a while.”
“Can’t wait,” said Evan. “I wouldn’t mind spending an afternoon with you getting stoned and having as much sex as possible.”
“I’m sold,” said Nath. “It’s a date!”
∞∞∞
Evan’s spirits soared on Saturday morning. Court smelled of delightful pastries and abundant curiosity.
“Four more hours,” said Nath, dimples on display. “Want to go for a ride before duty calls?”
“Is that allowed?” Evan asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Why not? Dad goes riding every weekend. He always told me a good king knows how to manage work and play.”
“All part of an absolute monarchy,” said Evan.
“Of course, that’s why we have the Privy Council to work alongside us processing the fine details and submitting it all to the King for final approval,” Nath said as they left the table bundled in their finest cloaks, ready to brave the January winter.
Bitter morning breeze whipped Evan’s cheeks rosy and nipped Nath’s lips red as a poisoned apple and a thousand times sweeter. He was less petrified of the horses now he’d ridden a few times, and loved the exhilaration of racing through the sun glazed meadows; and shady forests; thundering along frostbitten trails, following the winding river of ice into the snow-capped mountains. The stress of the past few days was torn from his body and thrust into the wind like a scarf. Evan felt light, free and happy as a pig in muck. They rode through lunchtime and returned for afternoon tea.
“Your Highness! Urgent letter from the King,” said Beverley, waiting for him by the entrance, face slashed with lines.
Nath tore the envelope, fur cloak collecting flakes drifting from the charcoal sky. “They’re delayed,” he said as a frown settled on his face. “Due to extreme storms they’ve diverted to Nepal.”
“Nepal?” asked Evan, peering over Nath’s shoulder at the letter written in a shaken hand, half of it was water stained and smelled of sunken ships. A wicked feeling scuttled up Evan’s spine.
“They’ll return by morning,” said Nath. “No news on how it went.”
“Why would they divert as far as Nepal?” Evan asked.
“Easiest course to avoid the storms across Europe, and the ambassador will welcome them with open arms,” said Nath. “Let’s go inside. I’ll notify the Council of the delay. If I’m needed, I’ll be in my office.” He smiled to Beverley and was greeted by the palace’s warm arms.
∞∞∞
Three am.
Evan woke with a start and no explanation as to why droplets of icy dread trickled down his spine. Nath was sleeping beside him. The bed chamber was quiet, lit by shreds of moonlight and glittering veins.
Time ticked by and the persistent nagging that something was wrong didn’t shift.
He got up from the enormous bed and allowed his thriller-obsessed paranoia to run wild as he seized the glass on Nath’s bedside table, feeling utterly ridiculous. He held up his palm, glowing faintly with light, and began searching the rooms.
Nothing.
He put the glass down on a window ledge, and looked out at the moon stained with clouds like a dirty crystal ball. He felt stupid. Nobody could enter without getting past advanced enchantments, let alone the guards, so why did he feel like something was terribly wrong?
“Evan?”
He jolted and turned back to the bed where Nath was propped up watching him sleepily. “I’m sorry for waking you,” he said.
“What’s wrong?” asked Nath now sitting upright, a look of genuine concern on his face.
“Nothing. I don’t know. It must’ve been a nightmare or something. I woke up feeling weird and like something was off, and thought maybe someone was in here,” he said, scratching the back of his neck and flushing from head to toe.
Nath’s lips twitched in a smirk. “Did you eat a brownie before bed?”
“No,” said Evan, never feeling more sober in his life. He climbed back into bed and lay there listening to Nath’s breathing fall soft again. Time passed and he calmed down a little, reassured by Nath’s warm arms and the luminous glow of the moon. Now he felt really ridiculous, and buried
his face in the back of Nath’s neck inhaling his warmth and sandalwood shampoo.
He slept when the ravens fled their nests before dawn; when the pounding of hooves thundered through the forest and crashed up the gravel path. When murmurs rumbled the palace halls and men of council and servitude made haste to the east wing.
When the knock came, Evan was wide awake.
Nath stirred, and a group of people arrived dressed in day clothes and expressions of mortal peril.
“Forgive us for the disgraceful intrusion, but we bring grave news, Your Majesty,” said Gerard.
Nath sat bolt upright, eyes sweeping Gerard, Will, Beverley, Sir Wintor, Isabelle, the King’s clergyman and three members of the Privy Council.
Evan’s heart sank.
“No,” said Nath, shaking his head slowly, a look of horror dashing his face.
“We are deeply saddened by the news,” said the vicar, collapsing to his knees. “I pray for the soul of His Late Majesty.”
“My Mother?” Nath asked, tears brimming in his eyes.
“The Dowager Queen is in Nepal in critical condition, but alive. Defence General Rakes is also in critical condition. They were set upon by an army of rogues in the midst of the storms, and the ambassador of Nepal is missing,” Gerard continued.
Before Nath could speak, the mourning bells began to toll long and haunting. Evan wrapped his arms around him. If they’d been standing, he knew Nath would have collapsed.
“Your Majesty, we understand this is a terrible shock, but we must make haste and prepare to address the nation,” said Gerard. He didn’t disguise his pain, and they watched him age ten years. The man was in agony, holding it together for the sake of his best friend’s son, King Nathaniel, who in this moment never looked more like a terrified teenager.
Evan’s body was numb. He wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words. He couldn't find any words.
Beverley covered her face with her hands for a few moments and recomposed, straightening up again. The room stank of darkest regrets and deepest respect.
Nath stared at the covers for what felt like an eternity before he rose from the bed in a t-shirt and boxers, extending a hand to Evan and transforming before their eyes from prince to king. “Evan and I will dress in mourning and the black roses are to hang in every corridor- do not put my garlands up until after my coronation," he said firmly, meeting Gerard’s eye. Both men donned droplets of grief, cheeks wet with misery and glistening with hope.
“Of course, Your Majesty,” said Gerard, offering a tiny bow. Behind him, Beverley and Isabelle began fussing with the curtain rails.
“But first, may I have a few moments alone with Evan?” Nath asked softly. Their glances shifted warily, they bowed low and gave them precious moments of peace.
Evan caught Nath before he collapsed in a heap of tears and heartbreak. It hadn’t sunk in yet. Elijah was gone, the Dowager Queen could die, and Nath was ascending the throne. Evan wrapped him in his love, filling him with warmth and magic knowing no matter what he did he couldn’t eradicate that gut-wrenching grief, the kind of heart-stopping grief that punches right in the solar plexus and leaves you riddled with anxiety.
“What am I going to do?” he sobbed.
“You’re gonna cry until you can’t anymore, breathe, address the people as King, and be the incredible sovereign Elijah knew you could be,” said Evan, meeting Nath’s gaze and putting all his energy into steadying his voice. His stomach was quivering, any moment he’d puke his organs all over the expensive carpet. The only thing keeping him in any state of stability was the thought of how badly Nath needed him to keep it together right now, and not be the anxious little wreck who went to pieces when he had to be strong.
Dull winter sunlight filtered through the windows; bruised clouds lined the tarnished red sky. Outside people sobbed, footsteps crashed up and down outside the door, urgent voices drowned by the furious din of the guards.
Nath was having a full-blown panic attack and Evan was racked with tremors. They held one another until the mourning bells ceased and took their time cleaning themselves up.
Evan didn’t mind when Beverley and Isabelle picked over him, dressing him and styling his hair. In comparison to what happened, being preened and draped in price tags that made his common ass cringe was nothing.
Nath returned from the bathroom flashing a small smile, dressed in a beautiful black suit and a long black fur cloak. He sank down into a chair as Beverley presented a flat, rectangular box. “Crown me,” he said to Evan.
Evan’s hands were shaking. Anxiety flooded his gut as he popped the lid. Inside was a beautiful gold coronet glistening with precious gems which he lifted with all the delicacy of a newborn and placed it upon his head like a halo.
Nath never looked more handsome or powerful as he rose, cheeks blotchy from tears, eyes burning with determination.
Gerard returned, solemn-faced and bowed low to the new king.
“More news has arrived,” he began, face a mask of sobriety. “They were set upon by rebel warlocks of the Dead Country and driven far off course into the cursed tempests over the Indian Ocean. Hundreds of soldiers have died, and the royal carriages were destroyed when they reached Nepal’s airspace. It’s likely there was a spy among our people.”
Nathaniel swallowed but remained calm. “What of the rebels?”
“Many warlocks escaped through a rift torn by the storms- they’re common in that part of the worldbut that rift is linked to the Dead Country borders,” Gerard continued hoarsely.
“And what of the Nepalese Magical Forces?” Nath asked, frown settling.
Gerard shook his head with dismay. “It is believed that some of the outer spells were overcome by the storms and with all the spent magic from the battle, as soon as they hit the Nepalese enchantments, there was a major explosion. Elijah was killed and many others left in critical condition.”
He needn’t say more. Evan felt sick, eyes drifting into the simmering fireplace. That kind of magic combined with cursed storms could be devastating.
“There’s a death toll of more than twenty warlocks in Nepal. The Emperor’s enchantment’s held and pulled Miriam, Briggard and a few badly wounded soldiers into safety.”
“Is there any news of the location of the Nepalese ambassador?” said Nath.
“He was abducted during the battle. Likely being held for ransom, but we haven’t heard anything yet,” Gerard looked grave.
Nath stood there a moment taking it all in and searching everyone's faces. “Then it appears we’ve no time to lose. I’m ready to make a statement now,” he said, face set with determination as he extended a palm to Evan.
Evan’s insides were a bucket of pretzels, living pretzels made from tied-up cocaine-fed worms. He prayed to the gods he didn’t shit himself when they stepped before the signal portal and addressed the nation directly. He was a consort now; second highest in the land.
They marched in silence through the deadened corridors. Garlands of black roses hung from every wall replacing Elijah’s scarlet and gold. The ceiling was made of spellograms. Servants bowed low, eyes downcast and faces shadowed with horror. The palace hummed darkly with magic and mourning, everything smelled of stillness and the reaper’s looming.
The Throne Room was a place Evan had seen once on a tour with Nath some weeks back. A large, glorious room glittering with threads of crystal. Two chairs rose from the ground, forged from glittering jet stone. Rays of moonlight spilled from an opalescent gem in the ceiling. When Evan visited before the throne was gilded in sunlight. This time, a lunarmancer was on the throne.
Nath squeezed his fingers. “How are you feeling?” he asked as members of Privy Council organised themselves about the room.
Two women brought forward the signal portal and Evan stared at it in awe. He’d never seen one before. Viewing portals? Yes, everyone had a shard of fairy crystal capable of receiving certain magical broadcasts, but few had access to signal portals.
&
nbsp; “I’m shocked,” he replied. He watched the large cerulean hoop vibrate with magic, jarring his teeth.
“Shocked is an understatement,” said Nath. “And there was me thinking you were stoned when you woke up this morning. I should have listened to you.”
“You really think that’s connected?” asked Evan, wearing a look of surprise.
“It’s quite possible. You are a healer. You can sense suffering,” said Nath, dimples on full display. “Are you ready to take your throne, Evan?”
“No?” he laughed, cheeks blooming.
“It’s ready for you, and sometimes the best things happen when you’re least prepared,” said Nath, leaning over and kissing his lips. “Let’s address our country with all the dignity my mother and father deserve.”
Evan’s stomach twisted painfully as he approached the throne. The portal sparked into life, swirling a brilliant icy blue fog through its center. They took their seats. Evan was shaking. Their reflections gazed back growing clearer as they reached every portal around the country.
“People of Britain, I come to you with the grave announcement of the death of our beloved King Elijah I,” said Nathaniel.
Evan wasn’t ready. The whole country was watching them right now, judging them in remembrance of the late King and Dowager Queen. His heart was slamming against his rib cage in a desperate bid for freedom. Nath held his soaking palm. His parents could see them, they'd be watching in horror like the rest of the nation.
“The brutal attack on my mother and father will not go unpunished. As king I pledge to rid the Dead Country of all rebel forces and close the rifts once and for all. It will be brought under monarch control,” said Nathaniel, eyes hardening. “We will regain control of the situation and end this war of ages as soon as possible.”
Evan’s fought very hard to maintain composure. A kaleidoscope of emotion rolled through him, shock, panic, the desperate hope that he didn’t look like a cow caught in a meat grinder.
“As the nation and the palace turn to mourning, full traditional respect will be paid to the late King and Dowager Queen, and a Mass for All Souls will be held to mourn those brave souls lost or injured during this terrible time. Prince Evan and I will work tirelessly until Ambassador Raj is returned safely, and justice has been served to the monsters responsible for this atrocity.”