Then he engaged my mother in conversation about the twins and their shenanigans and whether she'd found suitable brides for them that could tame them.
The exhausted sadness melted off her face by degrees, replaced by a hope so bright I was afraid it would consume her. She was starting to believe.
"As you can see," Arlen said at last, spreading his hands, "I am tediously myself again. You may stop mourning my fall at your leisure. I'm back up again, and I'm not giving up my birthright. I am the heir of Catonia."
"I am happy to see you doing so well," our father said.
He rose from his chair, crossed to the window, and stood looking out at the rose garden with his hands behind his back.
"But?" Arlen asked.
"But it is easy to do up here in a safe room, with just your close family in attendance. The question is how you'd perform in front of all the royal houses of the Elurian Federation when we announce your betrothal at the annual ball."
"I assure you?—"
He didn't get to finish, because our father turned, crossed back to where he'd been sitting, pulled out a gun, and before any of us understood what was happening, he raised it and fired at the newly re-glazed window.
The glass blew apart with a crack like the world splitting, the pane bursting outward into the garden, shards raining down the wall below it, and for one sick instant I was taken back in time, tothe molding failing and the window shattering and my brother screaming and clawing himself out of his chair.
Arlen didn't move.
He sat exactly as he'd been, hands easy on his knees, and watched the last of the glass fall, and then he looked at our father with one eyebrow raised and the corner of his mouth lifted.
"If you wanted to let in the breeze," he said, "you could have simply asked Balert to open the window."
My ears were ringing. I was on my feet without deciding to be, staring at my father, the gun, and the ragged hole where the glass had been.
"Are you mad?" The words were out before I could stop them. "You fired a gun indoors, with all of us in the room. You could have brought half the guard down on us. What has gotten into you?"
"I know how to place a shot." Unmoved by my outburst, my father returned the weapon to its holster. "Acting charming over tea is an easy trick, even for a man in a bad way. I am about to stand my son before the whole Federation and stake the succession on him holding his nerve. I will not stake it on momentary charm." He looked at Arlen, and beneath the iron something eased. "I had to see whether you could hold up under sudden pressure, and you did. You didn't so much as blink." He nodded. "You passed the test. You are once again my heir, Arlen. Congratulations."
The words went through me like a current.
Arlen was the heir. Not me. The burden of the crown was off my shoulders and back where it belonged.
I could go back. To Kailin. To Veynathei. To the life of a dragon rider.
My mother looked like she was going to burst from the excess of joy. Her eyes watering and her lips quivering, she crossed to Arlen, took his face in both her hands, and kissed his brow.
"My boy is back." She kissed him again. "Restored. The heir."
Then she straightened, and her expression changed from wonder to alarm.
"Oh, dear Elurion," she said. "The matches."
"Hanith…" my father began.
"It's okay." She patted Arlen's shoulder and turned toward our father. "I have to fix it. I arranged Cardilia for Arlen, but now he can't go to Tarina."
"Then unmake it," my father said.
"It's not as simple as that. To unmake one match, I'll have to unmake all the others," my mother said. "And I have only six days to do it." She was at the door. "Forgive me. I have a tangle to pull apart."
51
ALAR
“Royals do not marry for love. They marry for alliances. For commerce. For peace.”
