Angelaeon Circle 2 - Eye of the Sword (23 page)

King Kedemeth rose from a chair by the hearth, and Trevin bowed.

“I thought of bringing Attacker Defender,” said the king, “but Ambria forbade it.”

“That’s a shame,” said Trevin. “I feel lucky tonight.”

“Trevin.” Queen Ambria entered with a handmaid, and he bowed. “I hear you plan to leave on the morrow,” she said. “You must return to us soon.” She smiled, but her eyes held a deep sadness. She had officially mourned for almost thirty days, but Trevin knew her private pain came with no end date.

Nor did his. He dared not make a promise that would give her false hopes. “I’ve enjoyed my time here,” he said. “After the dungeon part.”

The king chuckled and motioned for Trevin to join them beside the flowering hearth. “I know you want to retire and get some rest before your journey, so we won’t keep you long,” he said. “I wanted you to know that after considering our discussion with the Angelaeon, I have decided to commit Eldarra as a full ally to Camrithia.”

Trevin breathed deeply. Another task complete. “King Laetham will be greatly encouraged.”

The handmaid gave each of them a travertine goblet of fruited wine. King Kedemeth took a sip, then cleared his throat. “The queen and I have a wish,” he said.

“A desire.” Queen Ambria patted her chest.

“A hope,” said the king. “We lost Resarian.”

“But we found you,” said the queen.

King Kedemeth set his goblet aside and took Queen Ambria’s hand. “We want you to be our son.”

Trevin coughed on his wine. “You what?”

“We want you to be our son,” said the queen.

Trevin could find no words. They both looked expectant, but he couldn’t have been more disconcerted if they had hit him over the head with the lampstand.

“It’s sudden, I know,” said the king.

“If events had gone as your father intended, we would have raised you as our son, a prince of Eldarra,” said the queen.

“But if I took your offer,” said Trevin, “I’d be—”

“Crown prince,” said the king. “You would inherit the throne.”

Trevin exhaled slowly. He felt foolish gawking at the king and queen, but he could hardly grasp their offer, much less find words with which to reply. He, the future king of Eldarra?

“Don’t refuse simply on the grounds that you have no royal heritage,” said the king. “I shall become your royal heritage.”

“What about Haden?” asked Trevin. “Isn’t he the natural heir?”

“We’ve spoken to Haden,” said the king. “He insists he doesn’t want to rule. He says he can think of no better heir than you.”

“Me,” Trevin croaked, trying to fit his mind around the breadth, the height, the depth of the offer.

“You told me you’ve spent a good deal of time making your way around the underpinnings of Laetham’s court,” said the king.

“Underbelly is more accurate,” said Trevin. “A vile underbelly at that.”

“Not bad schooling if one is to mount the beast and hold the reins,” said the king. “You’ve proved honest and faithful. You remained here to mourn when you could have bolted from Eldarra the moment you were acquitted. You’ve reasoned intelligently with me and made wise judgments—”

“We’ve seen your character in the eye of the sword,” said the queen.

Trevin ran his hand through his hair. “Even so …”

“Livia vouched for you.” Queen Ambria’s eyes searched Trevin’s. “She encouraged us to ask you.”

“And the Oracle recommended it.” The king studied his wine.

“You consulted the Oracle?” asked Trevin.

King Kedemeth looked up sheepishly. “He came to me. It seems you are destined to reign, and I readily recognize it.”

“But how can you be certain I’m right for the throne?”

The king drained his goblet. “One can never be certain. One can only be courageous or cowardly. I have the courage to make the offer. Do you have the courage to accept?”

Trevin felt his face grow warm. He had never known a land more agreeable than Eldarra. Even in prison he hadn’t been treated cruelly. The laws were fair, the people friendly. He stared at the blooms on the hearth. “I’m humbled, sire,” he said. “I’m honored. I’m grateful. But I can’t answer you yet. I don’t wish to offend, but I’ve not fulfilled my duties to King Laetham or Princess Melaia.”

“Look at me, Trevin,” said the king.

Trevin looked up to see the king leaning toward him with the most sincere, guileless, respectful, undaunted gaze he had ever seen.

“Your answer reveals the courage of integrity,” said the king. “I expected such. Fulfill your duties to Camrithia. After that, if you accept our offer, I shall be honored to call you ‘son.’ ”

“
We
shall be honored.” Queen Ambria’s eyes sparkled.

Trevin felt a warm, solid sense of belonging, a grand purpose expanding in his chest like a deep breath. As he left the king’s quarters that night, he knew that becoming heir of Eldarra would be his goal.

As heir of Eldarra, he would be worthy of a Camrithian princess.

Overnight the black drapes disappeared from the towers of the palace and the streets of Flauren. By the time Trevin led his gelding out of the stables, packed for the journey, dawn washed over the rosy palace walls. The entire city seemed to be waking not only to a new day but also to renewed life. Trevin knew that in Flauren he could become the man whose image he had seen in the sword.

King Kedemeth and Queen Ambria, cloaked against the early morning chill, appeared and greeted Trevin. The queen studied him with concern. “Did you get the parcel of bread and fruit I told Cook to send?”

Trevin patted the overstuffed pack tied atop the bundle containing the kyparis harp. “Enough to share.”

“I expect you to.” The queen slipped his cloak from where it lay across his mount’s back and handed it to him. He had intended to leave it off, for being midsummer, the early chill would soon dissipate. But he pulled the cloak over his shoulders.

Queen Ambria made sure it was snug. “Keep yourself safe,” she said, “and come back soon. Very soon.”

King Kedemeth clasped Trevin’s hand. “I wish you good speed in completing your goals for Camrithia. A selfish wish, I confess, but I, too, hope you’ll return soon. I have much to teach you about Eldarran affairs of state.”

Neither the king nor the queen admitted any possibility that he might turn down their offer of adoption. Trevin wished he could assure them that he would accept. He couldn’t. But he didn’t want to dash their hopes either.

“I’ll return as soon as I can,” he said. “If I accept your offer, I’ll have a great deal to learn. It may take a long time.”

“Long enough to play round after round of Attacker Defender,” said the king. “Keep up your skills while you’re gone.” He tucked a drawstring purse heavy with coins into Trevin’s hand. “Don’t wager it all away.”

“Thank you, sire. I’ll tell Pym to keep me honest.” Trevin tied the purse to his belt.

“Main Trevin,” Haden called as he strode out of the stables. “I believe I have something of yours.” He held out a shield that had obviously been pounded back into shape. A lopsided eagle decorated the front. “I found this
trampled on the plain. Pym said it belongs to you, so I took the liberty of having it repaired.”

Trevin examined the shield and smiled. The eagle had been repainted to somewhat better effect. As he tied it to his packs, he thought of the beauty with the rich brown eyes who had given him the shield. Soon she would greet him at Redcliff, and he would clear his name. He glanced around for Pym, eager to be on the way.

“Don’t forget,” said the king. “Varic stands accused of murder in Eldarra. I want him brought to justice.”

“Yes, sire.” Trevin mounted his horse. Justice would require him to refrain from killing the scum himself. He would need a caravan load of self-restraint to keep Varic alive long enough to return him to Eldarra.

Pym and Catellus led their horses from the stable. Trevin checked that Arelin’s sword was close at hand and his shield and staff tied to the packs behind him.

Livia, Toryth, and Ollena approached—Livia with a smoky gelding, Toryth carrying a bow and a quiver of arrows, Ollena leading a bay mare and wearing a tunic and leggings like a man, though a comely one with long brown locks. The women nodded to the king and queen.

“I’m joining your company, Main Trevin,” Ollena announced in a husky voice. “For your protection, hmm?”

Livia stifled a smile.

Trevin raised his eyebrows. “For my protection?”

Astride their horses, Pym and Catellus exchanged bemused expressions.

“Queen’s orders,” said Ollena.

Trevin started to protest, but King Kedemeth held up his hand. “Queen’s orders are nonnegotiable. At least if you want to keep the peace.”

Queen Ambria smiled smugly.

“I assure you, my daughter is a skillful warrior.” Toryth handed Ollena the bow and quiver. “I would have joined you myself, but I have duties here.”

“Yes … well …” Trevin did value Ollena’s swordsmanship and skill at the bow. And Livia was coming with him. No doubt she would welcome the company of another woman. He nodded. “Welcome, then,” he said. “We’ll all protect each other.”

“Agreed.” Ollena slipped her bow onto her back.

Trevin looked around but saw no other angels approaching, nor did he sense any others. “Five in our company,” he said, disappointed that more angels didn’t consider him worthy of their support.

Livia mounted her gelding, and Ollena gracefully swung herself onto her bay. Trevin nodded his final good-byes to the king and queen and Haden. Then he nudged his gelding and headed down the waking streets of Flauren, listening to the clop of horses behind him, carrying Livia, Ollena, Pym, and Catellus.

As they neared the main gate, Trevin sensed three auras, one forest-green, one violet, and one midnight-blue. When he saw three Angelaeon mounted and packed for travel, he grinned. With Livia and Ollena they would make almost a full squad of angels.

An almond-eyed, soft-spoken man named Sorabus introduced himself first. In the ranking of angels, he was of the Thronos, reputed to be gifted negotiators. He introduced Xenio, who wore his black hair in long braids and was ranked as one of the Kuriotes, expert leaders.

Trevin nodded at the third angel—stout, bulb-nosed Nevius, who explained that he was an Archangel, guardian of people, skilled in politics, and determined to fight anyone who would abuse children.

In the interest of time, Trevin agreed with the group’s suggestion to take the most direct route south through a high mountain pass. As they headed out, he was acutely conscious of being Nephili and suspected that his wise, experienced companions assessed his every move.

Then he realized he was the one assessing himself, trying to live up to the title “son of Arelin,” which had gained him respect in Eldarra. He fingered the hilt of his sword. He might look like Arelin, but how could he live up to the character of someone he had never known?

The pleasant rolling hills that graced the first part of their journey soon became more rugged. As they approached the mountain border of Eldarra, two draks appeared over the peaks ahead. Trevin wondered who spied through their eyes. Varic? Rejius? A third drak joined them, a smaller one.

Ollena whipped her bow toward the skies.

“Hold!” shouted Trevin.

The arrow flew at the circling draks. One plummeted to the ground.

“What are you doing?” he cried.

“They’re spy-birds,” said Nevius.

“I know they’re spy-birds,” snapped Trevin.

“They rarely come in range,” said Xenio.

“Of course Ollena’s range is greater than most,” Sorabus conceded.

Trevin galloped to the fallen bird. Its gray eyes stared blankly. He dismounted, knelt by the body, and examined its hands.

Livia squatted beside him. “Is it—”

“Disgusting, hmm?” Ollena dismounted beside Trevin as the others rode up.

“Ask me before shooting draks,” said Trevin.

“For pity’s sake, why?” asked Ollena.

“Because one of them may be a six-year-old girl, as close as a sister to Melaia.”

“This one?” asked Catellus.

Trevin shook his head. “The hands are too large for a child.” He scanned the sky.

One drak hugged the tops of the mountains. The other had disappeared.

“Ghast! A six-year-old? I’ll kill the Firstborn myself,” Ollena muttered as she pulled the arrow out of the drak.