I'd prepared my arguments and had even stopped by the palace library this morning to be certain of the precedents I was going to present. I didn't want to name the wrong king or the wrong physical impediment and give my father ammunition to dismiss my petition.
The histories and the genealogies of all seventeen provinces were kept in the royal library and organized by their kings' and queens' names. I had the librarian search for the two I remembered and any other he could think of, and while he'd been searching, I'd checked the newspaper archives.
They were bound in great heavy volumes going back decades, but I only needed the ones from the past year to look up Princess Ailadi.
The search hadn't taken long. Since her debutante presentation at seventeen, the princess had appeared in the society pages often enough, and I found her official debutante portrait as well as photos of her attending various official functions. She was pretty, and given her haughty expression, she was well aware of her good looks. They seemed to have been achieved by skillful application of cosmetics and artful hairstyling, but I had to admit that the canvas underneath the paint was of good quality. Nevertheless, she could not hold a candle to Kailin.
Then again, it was an unfair comparison because no one could. There was only one Kailin Strom in the world, and I was lucky to be loved by her, but unlucky to be taken away from her. Evidently, the universe didn't approve of one man getting so much and conspired to take it away from me.
I wondered if Princess Ailadi of Morila was going to be disappointed if instead of me she was betrothed to Arlen, the true heir. Would she mind that he was disabled, or was being the future Queen of Catonia the only thing that mattered?
Did she even know about the arrangement made behind her back?
Not that she had any more say on the matter than Arlen or me. Royal children didn't get to decide who they married. Alliances were far more important than our happiness because alliances meant peace.
It had been drilled into our minds since we were little boys, and we all had known that our life was not our own. As the fifth son, I had hoped to escape the trap, and I still might if my plan worked, but to prevent a war and all the lives it would claim, I would even sacrifice a life with Kailin.
Would my brothers have been as selfless?
Arlen would, but not the twins and not Avren, which was why none of them were suited to be king.
I put both Ailadi and Kailin out of my mind as I approached my father's office because I needed all my wits for what came next.
Two guards were flanking the door, armed with rifles and sidearms, not the ceremonial blades of the household guard. It reminded me of the assassination attempts on Kailin's life and how our quintet had been armed so we could protect her.
It wasn't paranoia. It was well-justified extra caution.
One of the guards at the door inclined his head to me. "Your Highness." The other turned, rapped twice on the heavy door, and then opened it a crack.
"Prince Alar is here to see you, Majesty."
"Send him in," my father said.
The guard opened the door all the way, and I stepped through, disappointed to see my father sitting alone behind his massive desk.
My mother wasn't there.
I took in the familiar place. It was as large as Saphir's office in the academy, but not as airy because it didn't come with the magnificent views of Elucia. Instead, it overlooked an inner courtyard with manicured flowerbeds and stone walkways. Bookcases full of books and maps lined one wall, but unlike in Saphir's office, everything was perfectly organized, with matching book spines and identical cylindrical containers for the maps.
Across from the wall of bookcases, a small water feature ran its endless cycle of water over dark stone. It had been installed by our grandfather, and as a boy, I thought it was for decoration or for the calming effect of gently running water, but when I got older, I'd realized that its job was to mask conversations. The constant soft rush of it filled the room, so that a listener at the door would catch only murmurs instead of words.
I bowed even though my father never required it from his sons in private. The guard was still in the doorway, and the performance was for him.
When the door had clicked shut behind him, I straightened.
"I hoped Mother would join us," I said.
My father set his pen down over the document he'd been writing. "I decided it would be better if she didn't attend."
"Why?"
"Because she gets very emotional over anything to do with Arlen, and it puts a strain on her heart."
My gut clenched. "What's wrong with her heart?"
My father waved a hand at one of the ornate chairs in front of his desk. "Take a seat, Alar."
I did as commanded and asked again, "What's wrong with her heart?"
