Gods save me,Arawn thought, for he was so tired, sohungry...
He’d missed lunch yet again, and he didn’t know if he’d be able to carry on any longer without something to fill his stomach.
“Prince! Wait just a minute!”
“I’m going to pray!” Arawn blurted and turned on his heel at once. He disappeared into the sea of Sacred as fast as his tired legs could carry him, already feeling regret swim through his veins at the instant lie.
But...no, he wouldn’t let it become one.
A Sacred did not lie.
So, he prayed, indeed, with every step he ran further away. Mostly, that the servant wouldn’t give chase, because Arawnknewwhat would come next if the servant caught up to him.
He’d miss dinner as well as his lunch, as he often did, for he had no doubt the scroll would hold a summons from his father. The king would request his presence in the Aviary, where he would makeArawnsaddle his eagle... even though a perfectly capable squire was available at the king’s beck and call. He’d stay there until the eagles soared away to war, and by the time he made it down to the kitchens, the food would be cold, and the cinnamon rolls would be gone until the next batch was made.
Arawn could hear footsteps chasing after him, a valiant effort from the servant boy to keep up, as he turned left and headed into another long hallway. The frost-covered windows were marked with stained-glass ice lilies, in a beautiful northern blue. Behind them, he could see thenomagebarracks far below, where the ground forces were a blur of red-cloaked figures in motion.
War, always war.
It was all Arawn hadeverknown.
He turned down another stairwell, the torches glittering a bit brighter as he passed, then into another corridor, and finally, he faced the runed door that led to his tower.
He quickly placed his palm upon the gold symbol. The door clicked open, and he’d just managed to slip inside before the servant boy came around the corner.
Arawn blew out a breath.
But he wasn’t done yet. Another set of stairs awaited him, so he gritted his teeth and made the journey up, step after step, untilfinally...he came to the very top.
His own room was to the right, but Arawn went left instead, to a room they’d neverdarelook for him in, if only because the servants seemed to fear the dying boy inside.
Arawn knocked once, but he didn’t wait for an answer as he entered. He never did. He heard a fluttering of papers as he shut the door behind him.
Finally,he thought, as the warmth of the room hit his back.I can breathe.
This was the only place in the Citadel he could be himself, without judgement or watching eyes.
Arawn turned to see his brother seated before the enormous fireplace, the flames blazing bright. The room was stifling, but Kinlear couldn’t seem to stay warm, no matter how many runes they inscribed upon his cloak or stitched into the lining of his clothing.
He was tall for his age, like Arawn. But where Arawn was already full of muscle, Kinlear was thin and lanky. Almostfrail,with his pale skin and dark curls, as if too strong a gust of wind might actually break him.
Still, while his body was weak...
Arawn had always been acutely aware of how strong Kinlear’s mind was. His brother wastooclever, as if he were born a true strategist.
A shame, that their father would neverlet Kinlear step into that role. He wouldn’t even let Kinlear near the doors of the War Table’s tower, let alone utter a word about their enemy.
Arawn supposed that was why Kinlear was fascinated with the darksouls.
Because his brother hadalwayshad a taste for forbidden things.
“That didn’t last long,” Kinlear said, by way of greeting.
Arawn shrugged. “I bested them all in under five minutes. The Masters set me loose to pray.”
“So, you’re here?” Kinlear asked, lifting a dark brow.
Arawn sighed. “This is the only place fatherwon’tcome to find me. I needed a break.”
