+ Add to Library
+ Add to Library

C2 Elias

Her face is hard. Serious. The look of a warrior. But I will defeat her. I shall prevail. In this and in all things, just you wait.

You believe me don't you? You haven't lost faith in me since nearly being killed by the White Rider? I didn't think so.

She lunges, I parry, then counterattack, our swords clanging against one another, metal ringing out in the cool night air, the sound reverberating over the icy waters that surround my sister's ship. In the distance stand the snow-laden mountains of Stonehill, replete in their quiet, sparse beauty. The parts of my childhood I remember most fondly all happened here.

"Lighten your grip," Uncle Asher instructs, as if I'm a child still learning the art of war through play and wooden swords. It is only the three of us aboard just now. The rest of her crew members have taken to Uncle Dean's realm for a night of debauchery and pleasure. Aya said they needed to let off steam. I personally think she just wanted to be rid of their boorish company for a spell. I don't blame her.

"Control your hips," Uncle Asher says, continuing his unnecessary instruction as Duke, my black wolf, sits at his side watching with impartial eyes. He's grown monstrously big in such a short time, a sign he's got some of the magical qualities of his father in him.

"They're telegraphing your moves," Asher says. "Aya could defeat you blindfolded with the way you're fighting today."

I purse my lips against a sarcastic retort. The truth is, I'm slower than I should be. Still weak from nearly dying at the hands of my evil twin.

If Aya hadn't come, if she hadn't gotten there in time, all would be lost.

But here we are. I am nearly returned to normal.

Nearly.

But not quite.

And I am distracted by worry for Iris.

I should be out there looking for her. Assuming she's even still alive. Aya doesn't disagree, but she wants me at my best before we venture forth into a fight with a tremendously powerful man.

The White Rider.

Myth. Legend. Blood.

"You're fighting like a blind turkey," Uncle Asher says, as he crosses his legs and sips at a goblet of fresh blood. He's impeccably dressed, as always, hair oiled down, nails polished. And he's been shadowing us for days, ever since I regained consciousness.

Shadowing us, and hounding us.

Aya takes that moment to use my distraction against me and pins me into a lock that nearly ends our battle, and not in my favor. I twist away and am about to counter with an attack that should turn the tables when my vision goes black and a voice explodes in my head, calling my name.

I stumble and Aya positions her blade against my throat, a gloat on her perfect face, as she relieves me of my weapon.

"Brother, you've lost your touch. You'll need to be better than that to go up against the White Rider."

She saunters away, her dark cloak flowing around her shoulders, as she takes an offered goblet from a servant and drinks deeply.

Duke whines under his breath and jogs towards me, nudging against my legs.

It takes a moment for me to form a coherent thought. "I just heard Iris's voice in my head. She's on this world. On Avakiri, I think. I could feel it. Feel her."

Aya raises an eyebrow at that. "How?"

Uncle Asher clears his throat, his gaze penetrating. "Likely something to do with her emerging powers as the Unseen Lord I would think. She is valuable but dangerous. She must be protected."

I nod, glad we agree on that at least.

But he's not done, it seems. "First, however, it is vital we secure the line to the throne and place a new monarch. Your parent's will is clear. They do not have to be dead, just unable to perform their duties, and their title would pass to the next in line. After a vote by the people."

Aya purses her lips. "It should go to the oldest, as is custom."

Uncle Asher inclines his head. "Be that as it may, it is not how your parents wrote their will. I was there when they commissioned it. It was a compromise between your mother and father. The vote would be limited to their royal line, but would be voted on by the people. A balance between the rule of monarch your father desires and a rule of democracy your mother prefers."

Aya wrinkles her nose, scoffing at the notion. "This isn't Earth. We can't employ their government styles here, and honestly, their ways aren't working well for them either. I know my mother is well-intentioned, but in this she is wrong, and she has made my father weak. Inferna needs a strong queen who will rule justly but also fiercely. So much more can be set right with a strong fist than a soft heart."

I shift uncomfortably and let my hand fall to Duke's head, giving him a distracted rub behind the ear. Politics was never my forte, and I was never the favorite of the royal children. "Look, I'm fine with Aya taking this on. I'd be a shit king and we all know it."

Uncle Asher's face is unreadable, but I know he has thoughts he will share later. He always does. "You do yourself, and the people of Inferna, a disservice, nephew. I know you had challenges growing up, but you also have an inner strength that would lend itself well to the ruling of this kingdom." He stands, setting down his goblet. "At any rate, the point is moot. The instructions are clear. We must move forward with the choosing of the new monarch before we embark on any rescue mission."

Aya and I exchange a glance. But really, she shouldn't worry. There's no way in hell—pun intended—that they'll vote me in as king. It will never happen.

We make our way by boat to Uncle Asher's kingdom of Pride, where he instructs a series of letters to be sent to his brothers. "The realms must be notified. This time tomorrow we will have a great ball at High Castle. Each realm must send in votes by proxy with their representatives. Within each realm there will be feasting to celebrate the crowning of a new king or queen."

The scribe nods and hurries off to do his bidding, then he looks at us. "You both must prepare yourselves. I will have my tailor commission for each of you something splendid to wear. For one of you will be crowned tomorrow."

The door to the study opens a crack and Varis walks in. The man towers over most, and stands out with his bald head covered in tribal tattoos. An owl perches on his shoulder, his Druid Spirit that he is never without. He approaches my uncle and lays a hand on his shoulder affectionately. "You are needed. A villager has come with news about Fen and Ari."

"What have they to say?" I ask.

Varis regards me with unreadable eyes. The Druid has been with my uncle since before I was born, but he has always been an enigma to me. "I don't know the details. They would only speak with Prince Asher."

Uncle Asher leaves with his partner, but turns before exiting. "I will tell you anything I learn. In the meantime, get fitted and then get some rest. Tomorrow everything changes."

* * *

The fitting is tedious, but over quickly enough—Duke sleeps through the whole thing, lucky him—and Aya slips away after, claiming she needs some time alone. Though we grew up together, nearly inseparable, I've always found her a hard person to read. She keeps her cards close to her chest, as it were.

Late that night I seek out my uncle to discover what the villager had to report. I find him with Varis in their personal quarters, each of them stretched before a fire reading leather bound books. The scene is so domestic, so comforting, that it makes me long for something I fear I'll never have. I've been on the run for so many years, living in makeshift spaces, doing what I could to infiltrates the shadows of Lix Tetrax and the Tempest, that it is strange to be home, to be back in what was once so familiar.

My thoughts turn to Iris and I begin to wonder if maybe this kind of life could be in the cards for me after all. Would she want this? I honestly have no idea. Our relationship is too new. We haven't had a chance to discuss what a future together might look like, if indeed there even is one. Would we live in Inferna or at the Black Lotus? I'm surprised to discover there's a part of me what would prefer to come home. Maybe not to take up my role as Prince of Envy's realm. But perhaps to live a quiet life somewhere in the Outlands, free of politics and the machinations of my world.

But how could that ever be? I am too entrenched in the darkness of the Unfettered to ever break free. And I am still on the Council's Most Wanted list. Which makes all of this, particularly me being included for the vote of king, so absurd. I can't very well rule under the circumstances, even if I were the better choice, which I clearly am not.

I push away such thoughts and sit next to my uncle at his beckoning.

He sets aside his book to look at me. "The news was nothing. A villager who wanted the reward money but had little to offer for it. Just rumors of your mother being in Avakiri, but nothing concrete. I am sorry."

I don't school my look of disappointment fast enough and Uncle Asher puts a hand over mine. "We will keep looking. We will find your parents," he says.

"And Iris," I add.

He nods. "And Iris."

I want to ask more questions, to probe him further about what he knows of the Tempest, the White Rider, my parents, the Unseen Lord, but we've already been round and round with that conversation and he will likely be as tight-lipped now as he was then. I'm confident he knows more than he's saying, but I'm just as confident he'll only tell me if and when he feels like it.

So I bid them both goodnight and head back to my room, Duke at my heels.

My sleep that night is restless, and the next morning we leave for High Castle, to begin preparations. It's a flurry of activity, with servants cleaning, polishing, cooking, basting, baking, trimming, and decorating. My uncle's tailor must have worked non-stop since the fitting, employing some magical help, no doubt, because by the afternoon both Aya and I are decked in the finest silk, satin and velvet.

"Do you really think it's a good idea to parade me around when I'm still the Most Wanted of the Nine Worlds?" I ask Uncle Asher, as he supervises while his tailor dresses myself and my sister like dolls. Even Duke gets a brushing and a dignified collar for the occasion. I would have thought he'd hate it, but he takes to it like Uncle Asher would, prancing around showing everyone how handsome he is. Silly wolf.

"Nonsense. The only ones who care about that blasted list are council members and Hunters, none of whom will be here," he says.

"Not even Thalius?" I ask. "He's keen to see my head on a spike, and has blood bonds to both Avakiri and Inferna, making this election of interest to him."

My uncle just smirks. "I've ensured Thalius will be unable to attend. Worry not, dear nephew."

Aya raises an eyebrow at that, but then flinches and becomes distracted as her gown is tightened around her waist. "I do need to be able to breathe. Please keep that in mind," she barks through gritted teeth.

Once dressed in the finest fabrics of deep purple, gold and black, we join Uncle Asher in the throne room, which is presently void of all but a few guards standing at the ready. "Your uncles will be joining us, then we shall commence with the voting, ceremony, and festivities. Each realm has already been celebrating all day, so everyone is in fine spirits."

I'm sure that's not true. Not everyone cares about which spoilt Royal sits on these thrones. Some are just trying to survive. Some are enduring discrimination by the vampires, the Fae or both, if they're unlucky enough to be Shade. My parents have done their best, but you can't quickly eradicate prejudice. Maybe we can't rid ourselves of it at all. I've begun to believe it's an inherent part of us all, whether we choose to admit it or not.

Uncle Dean arrives first, surprising us all by being fully dressed. "Too cold out there for you?" I tease.

He laughs in good spirit. "Just enjoying the new silk shipment I got in," he says, running a hand along his intricately embroidered gold tunic.

Aya greets him with a mischievous grin and hug. "Good to see you. Have my men been behaving themselves?"

Uncle Dean smiles and shrugs. "Nothing my people can't handle." In many ways he is the opposite of Uncle Asher. Where Asher is polished and poised, with dark hair and pale skin, Dean is debonair and casual, dark blond hair wild, skin sun-touched. But they are the closest of the brothers. I often noticed my father watching them wistfully, perhaps pondering missing memories of the times they had before he was turned. Memories he lived many lifetimes thinking were his until he found out the truth about his heritage, that he was never born a vampire under the curse of the seven sins, but rather was Fae, touched by the Druid Spirit, who nearly died during the battles until the vampire queen, my grandmother, turned him.

It's a story no one really talks about, but I did get it out of my mother once. She was always more likely to tell us the things others wanted to stay hidden.

Pity she didn't tell us about my twin.

Uncle Ace arrives next, looking slightly distracted and anxious, like a mad scientist who can never quite master the thing he wants the most. "I'm working on something new," he says as he enters the room. "It could help speed up production of basic household goods, but uh... " he looks down at soot covered hands and shrugs. "There are still some complications to work out."

Dean smiles indulgently. "You'll get it."

"Speaking of inventions," Aya says, cozying up to him. "I need a contraption to take a fleet of ships to Avakiri through the Waystones. Do you think you can put something like that together?"

His eyes light up and he rubs at his stubbled chin. "Actually, I've been working on a design for just that purpose. It's as if you've read my mind."

Aya waggles her eyebrows at me in excitement, presumably planning for the rescue of Iris, which I appreciate, then lowers her head to engage in a low volume back and forth with her favorite uncle. He built her ship, after all. Her prized possession. As a child she spent more time in his realm learning about inventions than in our own. Though she took to our father's combat instructions readily enough, as evidenced by her fame as a fighter.

Uncle Zeb is the last to show, and is decked out in luxurious clothing befitting his title as Prince of Gluttony. Thanks to him we have an incredible feast for this evening. Perhaps the only thing I'm looking forward to in this entire event. He greets the group with a small nod of the head.

Once all have arrived, Uncle Asher stands and produces a contract, signed in blood by my parents. "Our instructions are clear. All heirs of Ari and Fen are to stand before the people of Inferna to vote on who shall become the new queen or king of Inferna. If Ari and Fen return at some future date, and in a condition to resume their previous position, the new ruler will have the option to refuse and stay on, or to acquiesce the throne until such a time that Ari and Fen retire permanently. We have, due to these unfortunate circumstances, triggered this clause, and must now begin the trials to determine the next ruler."

Zeb frowned. "Why are we not eligible for this position? It was, after all, a chance of fate that Fen was Ari's first choice and not one of us. Shouldn't we now have the opportunity to put ourselves in the ring for this role? We who have trained for this position for hundreds of years?"

While Ace, Asher and Dean had been clear allies of my parents during the last war, the stories of Zeb were a little more tempered. He didn't betray them like Levi. But... he was never completely satisfied with how it all unfolded, I think. And Aya is doing a poor job of schooling her face to neutral. She's clearly unhappy with the idea of more competition for the vote. After all, against me, she knows she's guaranteed the crown. Against one of our uncles? That might be a tougher vote.

"While your concerns are duly noted," Uncle Asher says, "this is the way of it. They are the law and they make the law." His tone leaves no room for argument, and I get the impression this isn't the first time the two of them have had this conversation.

Zeb remains silent, and with that bit of family mutiny aside, Asher addresses his brothers. "Do you each have the tallied votes of your realms and any realms you are leading in absentia?"

That last bit is a dig at me, since I should be producing a scroll for Levi's realm, Envy. But I no longer reign there, and the castle has fallen to ruin, though it did produce the Twilight Bow for us, which would have been really useful if we hadn't lost it to the White Rider, and the Moonlight Sword to the Black Lotus. Aya would normally be managing the realm of Greed, but Zeb has brought that scroll on her behalf, while Dean collected the votes for my realm.

They nod in unison and hand Asher scrolls that will decide our fate and the fate of our land.

Asher reads through each, raising an eyebrow at one, until he has memorized the results. He is now the only one in Inferna who knows the identity of the next sovereign of our kingdom. He smirks with that knowledge and escorts us to the balcony where a throng of vampires, Shades, and even some Fae, await below. Two crowns are perched on a red velvet pillow. One for me. One for Aya.

I absently wonder what they will do with the loser's crown.

The cheer of the crowd is deafening as we step out, and Duke presses close to me, always on the look out for enemies. It's late afternoon and the sun is dipping lower in the sky. I've spent so long on Earth, I've forgotten the simple luxury of basking in the warm rays without fear of harm. I let myself enjoy the moment as Uncle Asher waits for the cheering to die down.

"Thank you all for joining us on this most auspicious occasion." Asher is interrupted by more cheering. When it quiets, he continues. "Though the circumstances that brought us here are less than optimal, rest assured the safety, security and prosperity of the realms are our utmost priority, even as we investigate what became of our Queen and King."

The crowd erupts again, and I refrain from rolling my eyes at this pandering to the crowds, which just proves my point that I am truly not cut out for this gig, as Iris would say. The thought of her sends an unexpected pang through me, and I have to force myself to focus on the ceremony taking place.

"After reviewing the results, the will of the people is clear. You have chosen... Princess Aya Vane Spero of Stonehill, daughter of the High Queen and King, as your new ruler."

This time there is no subduing the hysteric clapping, hollering and crying. The people are thrilled.

I expected to feel a surge of relief at not being chosen, and I do, for the most part. But there's also an unexpected emotion buried in my gut I do not quite understand and have no time to dissect now.

It's enough that Aya is glowing with joy and triumph. She will make an excellent leader of our people, of that I feel confident.

So why, I wonder, is that sense of unease in my gut lingering as Asher places the crown on her head?

Report
Share
Comments
|
Setting
Background
Font
18
Nunito
Merriweather
Libre Baskerville
Gentium Book Basic
Roboto
Rubik
Nunito
Page with
1000
Line-Height