“We… don’t we?” She cast around the room. “Prince Declan is… well, he’s the Night Prince! And the Night King was with us and–”
“I will speak to Vesslan, Elasha. I would ask you to say nothing of Declan or Vex to him before I have a chance to,” Aquilan said firmly. He stared hard at Elasha. “Do you understand?”
“I… yes, Uncle.” She lowered her head. “I understand Father might react badly to Prince Declan’s heritage.”
“Badly? That is a word for it,” Helgrom clucked his tongue on the top of his mouth.
While the Bastons might not judge Declan, Vesslan most certainly would. Rhalyf wouldn’t have been surprised if he demanded that Declan be thrown into the dungeon or killed. And if Vex was still listening–of course, he was still listening–and heard Vesslan make such an order–even if it would be countermanded immediately by Aquilan–he might use it as an excuse to act precipitously.
“You judge him and me poorly, Helgrom, for our feelings about the Kindreth! But you have to understand all we’ve ever heard are the terrible stories about them and… and I haven’t heard exactly anything nice about Vex to change that,” she said.
“But you have experienced something nice about Declan, haven’t you?” Finley’s voice was flat and Rhalyf saw him half reach towards the dagger and book he had tucked into his pants beneath his shirt. But he stopped himself and went back to holding Declan’s hand.
Though Rhalyf hadn’t truly gotten a good sight of either item, their magical signature was like nothing he had ever seen. He supposed that made sense. Humans couldn’t wield magic like elves so anything that bore their magic would be completely unknown to him. But a wave of unease went through him as he studied the slight bulge both made under Finley’s shirt and the strange scar on his throat.
Something about these items–something even about Finley himself–was a little different than before. But he shook himself. Like everyone else he was capable of fearing the unknown and that was likely what was moving him. Finley seemed completely himself. In fact, he was no longer affected by the pollen, which was both good and disappointing. A cuddly Finley was likely a thing he would see anytime soon or ever again.
“Of course! He’s–he’s rather wonderful. I just hope Father will listen to reason before he says or does anything unfortunate,” Elasha sighed and pinched the top of her nose. She looked as exhausted as all of them were.
“We both know that he will likely do both, Elasha,” Aquilan admitted, his shoulders slumping. “That is why we must keep this from him for a time until everything calms down. Or, at least, until Declan is recovered fully.”
Finley had met Rhalyf’s eyes at that moment and said with such certainty, “I’m sure that Rhalyf will set Declan to rights again.”
“Yes, I know he will,” Aquilan had agreed and both men had looked upon him with definite belief.
Rhalyf had almost shifted uncomfortably under that regard. Finley knew who and what he was. He had a good reason to have faith in Rhalyf. Aquilan had seen him cast impossibly intricate spells that no one else could so, even without knowing his Kindreth heritage, he supposed that Aquilan, too, had reason to believe in him. But how long would it be before Aquilan realized that such skill could not come from simple practice?
But he was pulled back to the present and away from that uncomfortable thought as Vesslan’s voice rose up in the hallway once more, “I don’t understand how Darcassan could be in the–the–what did you call it? Pedway?” Vesslan sounded put out by having to even speak the human word for where they’d gone. “Why wasn’t Darcassan in his bedroom? Or–or studying somewhere or–”
Rhalyf heard a high-pitched response from Elasha. Quick, desperate words likely to remind her father of Darcassan’s belief about “massing” Leviathan, which had actually been true. Yet this was just the type of tone–deferential yet defensive–to goad Vesslan on no matter what she was actually saying.
“But I told you it was nonsense that Darcassan could get to Illithor!” Vesslan shouted despite the fact that Darcassan had gotten to Illithor.
They all had.
Though Rhalyf wondered if he would have been able to do so absent their interference. Darcassan likely would have been killed in the Pedway by the Leviathan. But on the off chance he had been able to do that and steal something from purple-towered Illithor and returned… It would have been disastrous.
And this was the way it had to go.
Rhalyf had begun to feel the threads of fate tightening around him and the others. Declan was the Night Prince. Vex would always have come for Declan. Rhalyf had fled to the Aravae Empire and become Aquilan’s best friend. Vex would always have asked Rhalyf to spy for him. It was too good an “in” not to take. Really Vex could not have set all of this up better if he’d tried.
And maybe he had set it up.
Rhalyf wouldn’t have put it past his wily and far-seeing uncle. But that would mean his uncle believed Rhalyf was capable of continuing to lie to Aquilan. And Rhalyf was far from sanguine that he could do so. Even if he’d wanted to, it wasn’t as if the secret was held only by himself any longer. Helgrom and Snaglak knew who he was. Finley and Declan knew who he was. Did Vex really think that all of them would hold their tongues despite their loyalty and love for the Sun King? It was absurd!
So maybe he didn’t mean what it appeared, at first, he did…
More squeaks from Elasha. Vesslan’s voice roared over hers, “And you dragged your uncle with you on this foolish quest–”
One of the magical threads binding Declan nearly snapped. Declan’s body jumped off the bed and the young man’s head thrashed from side to side. Rhalyf grimaced and took in a deep breath to steady himself. He had to ignore what was happening elsewhere. He just had to focus on this.
He glanced up at Declan’s face. It was coated with cold sweat and there were cords of muscle and sinew standing out on the young man’s slender neck. Declan’s eyes were tightly shut so he couldn’t see if his green eyes were now red. White stripes cut through his black hair though now.
How much more do I have to do?
The bindings had been reduced to one central weave that ran down the center of Declan’s body. He had unpicked half of it, but the remainder was more difficult. Far tougher than the rest had been. This was likely intentional in order to give Declan time to seek shelter for when it snapped. Red eyes. White hair. Magic swirling around Declan like a cloak of stars.
Just like his father…
