Ryu said nothing, and even Kentario was unable to work out exactly what he was thinking. No doubt it was cold comfort knowing the truth of the matter, as the fact remained that his parents were dead and his entire world inexorably altered. “Thank you, Captain Landis,” he said finally. “You may go.”
Okay, so that part was far easier to read. Ryu had no fucking clue what to do next, and he wanted to consult with Oris and Kentario to work out what their next move should be.
But rather than leaving the room, Maro instead stepped forward, with a wary glance at Kentario as he did so. “There is one other issue I’d like to address before I go,” he said. He pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket, unfolding the neat creases and presenting it to Ryu. “I am formally resigning from my position as Captain of the Guard,” he announced. “I hope you have been assured that I harboured no ill will against the monarchy and that I had absolutely no direct involvement in the attack, but nonetheless, seeing to the security of the palace is ultimately my responsibility, and it’s clear to me, and to everyone in this room, that I have failed in that duty. My sincere condolences to you, Your Highness, for the loss of your parents. Words cannot express my disappointment at my own failures, and I feel this is the only honourable course of action for me to take.”
Ryu stared at the neatly printed letter, his shock evident only in his own inaction. Maro stood there, holding out the letter, his patience seemingly endless as he waited for Ryu to take it from his hand.
Finally, Ryu moved, accepting the letter without a word. He folded it again, following the same crisp lines that Maro had unfolded. But instead of addressing Maro, he turned to Oris, still standing silently at his side. “Mister Izarius, would you mind leaving the room for a moment?” he asked politely.
If Oris was surprised by the request, it didn’t show. He bowed, one hand placed reverently over his heart, then quietly let himself out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Kentario felt a thrill of tension run through his body, not having expected that response. And somehow, he had the feeling that more surprises were just around the corner.
“Sit down, Maro,” Ryu said, setting the letter aside. He sat up in his chair, a contemplative look on his face, then glanced up at Kentario. “Take a seat,” he said softly, and not knowing what else to do, Kentario sat down, choosing a position midway between Maro and Ryu.
“The last forty-eight hours have been rather instructive for me,” Ryu began, choosing his words carefully. “A lot of expectations about the future have changed, but at the same time, some of my perspectives on the past have also been called into question.” Kentario felt the surprise register on his own face, the expression rapidly schooled back into one of stern neutrality. What the hell had Ryu and Oris being talking about in his absence? Oris had worked in the palace since he was in his twenties, and in that time, he’d have seen and heard some truly remarkable things.
“I have one question for you, Maro, and I would like you to answer honestly.”
Maro bowed his head. “Allowing for any vows already taken, Your Highness, I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
Ryu waited until he raised his head, then made a point of looking directly into his eyes. His question, when it came, was spoken in such soft tones, with such a lack of anger, that Kentario at first assumed he must have misheard.
“I want to know if you and my mother ever had an affair.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Goddess above, I knew that was going to come back and bite me,” Maro muttered. He dropped his head into his hands, letting out a deep sigh. Then he raised his head again, looking Ryu in the eye.
“No, Ryu. We never had an affair. Your mother loved you far too much to ever risk tainting your reputation with that kind of dishonour. And on my part, I wouldneverbetray my king. You can believe that or not,” he added, as obvious doubts wandered across Ryu’s face. “I don’t much care either way. But that is the honest truth. That said, I would also have to admit that the details of the situation were… rather more complex. With the highest respect for you, and your capabilities as future king, you are only eighteen years old, Ryu. And some of what I have to say may be unsettling. Are you sure you wish to hear it?”
Did he, Ryu wondered? What Oris had said to him last night had been staggering, to realise that he’d so badly misread so many things about his parents and his childhood. But it seemed his tumble down the rabbit hole wasn’t quite over, and he sorely wished he’d had a chance to calm down and take a breath before diving into this quagmire. That was exactly what he’d been trying to achieve, when he’d asked Maro to leave the room, but the man had had to go and toss that plan out the window.
But if there was truth to be had, he wanted to hear it, for better or worse. “Yes, I do,” he said, sounding far more confident than he felt. “I cannot lead this country if people keep hiding things from me or thinking I’m not old enough to deal with them.”
“Very well. Before your mother fell pregnant with you, she and Sou were having a number of problems in their marriage. Elise felt she was unable to ask for help, because of Sou’s position as king and because she has always held the will of the Goddess in the highest regard. She believedthat she was marked as his soulmate for a reason, and she was determined to use whatever influence she had to benefit the people of Galandeen.”
It was very similar to what Oris had told him earlier. Though Ryu suspected that whatever was coming next was going to be rather more surprising.
“My own political and philosophical views have changed significantly since Sou became king. Under King Arata, I largely did what I was told and tried to support Arata in whatever direction he chose to take the country. But when Sou became king and I was promoted to Captain, I began to see that the tide of public opinion was shifting. The revolution in Arctesia, Iderheil’s move towards democracy… The public were getting restless. Yet Sou refused to reconsider his traditional standpoint on a lot of issues.
“A couple of off-hand comments I’d made over the years had caught Elise’s attention, and she eventually realised that I was of a similar mindset to her. Omegas could no longer be treated as second class citizens. Divorces were becoming more common. Environmental concerns began to take the place of purely economic strategies. So she began to confide in me, and together, we developed plans to push Sou towards more liberal views. It was an uphill battle all the way, and Elise felt a much keener frustration with our progress than I did. But a lot of the time, all she was really looking for was a sympathetic ear. So she would come to me, and we would… talk.Justtalk. It never went any further than that,” Maro repeated emphatically.
“But nonetheless, various rumours began to circulate, and we had to learn to be a lot more discreet. But I remained steadfast in my desire to help steer Galandeen into the future, rather than staying bogged down in the past. And then you started growing up, and we both realised you had a more progressive view on certain things than your father did. But at the same time, it became extremely difficult to balance the need to nurture your political views with ensuring you maintained a close relationship with your father. For all his faults, being king is an extremely difficult task, and he was always the best person to teach you how to deal with those pressures.
“The public role of a king is very different from who he is in private. The same could be said for both Elise and myself. I realise that some of my actions over the past few months have been confusing to you. And some of your mother’s, as well. I suppose you could say that we were manipulating both you and Sou at various times. And I’m not surprised that you reached the conclusion that we were having an affair. Elise was very dear to me. But my primary interest has always been the greater wellbeing of Galandeen, and as far as my intentions go, I have nothing to apologise for.”
He fell silent, and Ryu let the ideas of a larger purpose play over in his mind. “Did your ideals about the future of Galandeen,” he asked, after a pause, “ever extend to removing my father from power? In the interests of thebenefit of Galandeen?”
“Never,” Maro said, looking him straight in the eye. “Regardless of any ideals I might have held, my honour still dictated that I workwiththe monarchy, notaroundit. Nonetheless I realise that a lot of what I’ve just said could be seen as disloyalty, and that, as much as my failure to protect the king, is what motivated my resignation. I have no wish for you to feel divided in your role as leader of Galandeen, and if stepping down is what’s required to ensure your successful reign, then I will do so.”
Ryu nodded. A quick glance at Kentario confirmed what he already suspected. After all, his bodyguard would never have let him return here if he’d genuinely thought Maro posed a threat to him. He was looking decidedly uncomfortable with the direction the discussion was taking, but at the same time, he was saying nothing to denounce Maro for his actions. That silence was as telling as any speech could have been.
“I have just one problem with that story,” Ryu said, feeling assured, perhaps for the first time in his life, that he was about to makeexactlythe right decision. “This palace needs a Captain of the Guard who knows the grounds inside out, who knows the staff, the history, who’s willing to learn from his mistakes, and who has the humility to realise that he’s not perfect. And aside from that, there have been quite enough sudden changes in the last few days. The public are not going to be happy if the new king starts sacking the only people around here who actually have a clue what’s going on.” In a slow, considered move, Ryu tore Maro’s resignation letter in half, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Your resignation is officially rejected.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Standing outside the palace, Marissa Sato once more plastered a smile to her face, as her faithful cameraman gave her a tired nod. They’d been here since six o’clock this morning, as well as a fair chunk of yesterday, and while the attack on the palace remained the number one news story in Galandeen, the lack of news from the palace meant that Marissa was rapidly running out of interesting things to say. She’d interviewed a dozen members of the crowd, questioned several of the police holding the line of civilians back, and speculated on just about every angle of the story she could think of. And now, the show’s producer was insisting on cutting back to her live coverage of the palace, regardless of the fact that she’d told him point blank that she had absolutely nothing left to say.
