“No you don’t! I can feel it spiralling away from you like a vicious tornado intent on razing a village to the ground.You resent this life, this world. And you have nothing but contempt for everyone in this room, and all those beyond it.”
Damn the arcane art of Aesthesia. Leander needed more time to practice his mental shield, lest every noble in Saeren cottoned on to his aversion to… well not really their very existence, but his own presence within this realm.
“As a mortal,” Jarryn continued, his silky voice causing Leander even more irritation than the actual content of his words. “You belong to the dust of history, forgotten and irrelevant. I don’t even need Aesthesia to know this about you. Your fears are written all over your face, laced in every word you utter.”
Lucien and Thiete said nothing, eyes flitting between their two new drinking companions with weary expressions. Leander thought that he would not be invited back again.
But Jarryn was not finished with his examination of the demigod. “Your deeds are as empty as your soul. Legends fade to ashes and even gods fall from grace, just as you are proof. Your arrogance blinds you to the truth: in the end, it is not blood that defines greatness, but strength of one’s character. Your immortality was but an ineffectual illusion and you have been abandoned by your own mother. Now you desperately grasp for relevance in a world that will move on without you.”
Leander wanted to argue back. Jarryn’s words cut him deeply. Because they were true. They were the reason why he sought frivolous affairs in the mortal realm with drinks, girls or boys. “You will never understand what it is to ruleover the hearts of so many,” he finally managed to say. “You, the exiled would-be king with no subjects to rule. You, who no longer has a place to call home, let alone rule. Your own legend will fade into obscurity, a cautionary tale told by your ancestors of hubris and folly.”
“Gents—” Lucien tried, but Jarryn raised a hand to silence the other prince.
“Perhaps. And yet, for all your power, you sit here, wasting your breath trading insults with me. Remember this, Myracle?—”
“Don’t call me Myracle.”
“You’re right, Myracle is too good for you. In the end, it’s not the immortality and power of gods that shapes the world, but the resilience of men.”
Jarryn looked around, then stood up, gulping down the rest of his mead before placing the flagon back on the table. “My companion has arrived, thank you for such an… illuminating diversion, Your Highness, my lords.”
He left the three men in stunned silence, and they stared as he stalked off towards the bar before they returned to their own drinks and made a valiant attempt to save the evening from complete ruin. It was the demigod’s round for drinks anyway.
“He’s certainly something,” Leander muttered when he returned with another round of drinks for himself and his two companions.
“Desanne is a religious kingdom, no?” Thiete asked quietly as he thanked Leander for the drink. “Do they not worship the Nine?”
Leander thought of the nation of Desanne and its capital, Eslirie, where King Nevari now ruled on the throne.Eslirie did not have loyalty to one single god in the same way Saeren had a patron. But they were a pious city in a pious nation. Jarryn himself had been raised in the light of the Nine.
So why did he have such disdain for Leander?
“They are, yes,” Leander agreed as he stared at the back of Jarryn’s head across the room.
“He took his father’s passing hard,” Lucien said softly, expression almost guilty for sharing something so personal. “He told me… he told me about it. It wouldn’t surprise me if his faith has been shaken.” It was clear that Lucien wanted to say more, but would not break the trust of his friend. “Either way, I wouldn’t take it personally, Leander. Not everyone will like or admire you, and that’s okay.”
“Sage words from Vyrica’s future king. You’ll have to get used to making enemies, I suppose,” Leander returned.
Lucien smiled knowingly and took another large gulp of his mead. “Anyone with power and responsibility must accept the fact that being not-friends with someone is very different from being enemies. You can’t please everyone.”
Chapter Seven
Leander’s vision was black around the edges by the time he was forced out of some tavern down by the harbour, and it had nothing to do with the lateness of the hour. He hadn’t even consumed as much as he had a few nights previously, and there wasn’t a single opiate in sight, so he hazily wondered why he felt so unwell.
He also vaguely wondered at the notion of repercussions from his family if he were to stagger home in his current state. What could they possibly do to him, anyway? There was nothing they could do that he had not already done to himself.
The words spoken by Jarryn in the Wandering Dragon earlier that night had been festering in his mind since first they had been spoken. He had put on a good show while with Lucien and Thiete to act like he had not been affected by the argumentative and opinionated prince’s harsh words. But he was.
He had taken his leave of his other drinking companions a few hours before the midnight chime, seeking out a better distraction, a way to forget.
Jarryn was right, his life was meaningless and he would be forgotten as soon as those last few who knew him also passed into Serai’s underworld kingdom.
His biggest fear was being forgotten.
He knew Jarryn had been projecting, now that his own life had gone up in smoke. Without his powerful name and beloved kingdom, his worth was also insignificant. Prince Jarryn had genuinely believed every word he had said earlier this evening. For them both.
He found himself set adrift yet again. Nothing was as he had pictured it. He had no idea of where he belonged anymore. Perhaps there was nowhere he truly belonged. He didn’t appear to be wanted in either Cariun or Estalian, a child of both worlds but a true citizen of neither of them. He was lost and alone. But he’d be damned before he let them know they had succeeded in affecting him so deeply.
He had his pride.
