Esar, Age 11

26 Years Ago

“Far be it from me to pry into your personal life, Alzyn, but what the hell?”

Vaclan’s sharp words hadn’t been intended for Esar, but they’d startled him out of his slumber. If he had been dreaming, he didn’t remember a bit of it.

“Please tell me that you had a vision that he’s going to defeat the construct and keep my mother safe,” Vaclan continued. He sprawled on an armchair in apparent exhaustion while Esar’s mother sat at a table, a drink in her hand. They were the only two people left in the room besides Esar. How long had he been sleeping?

“Not a dream,” Alzyn said. “But I did have a hunch, and I’ve learned to trust my feelings on things like this.”

“You had a hunch,” Vaclan repeated. “And I’m sure it had nothing to do with the fact that you found him attractive. How old is he, anyway? I’d wager he’s closer to your son’s age than he is to yours.”

Alzyn rolled her eyes. “I didn’t do the math.”

“I went to the trouble of introducing him to my sister last night, even dared to hope when they seemed to be hitting it off. He is extraordinary, perhaps he might succeed where so many others have failed. But he left with you.” Vaclan shook his head. “Tell me this, Alzyn. When you told my parents that my sister would live, was that just a ‘hunch’ as well?”

Alzyn took a long sip of her beverage before answering. “She’s alive, isn’t she?”

“Ah. Wonderful. So reassuring to hear that once again, the future of Elorhe is determined by what you feel in your gut.”

“I trust my feelings as much as I trust my visions,” Alzyn said. “And so do your mother and father.”

“My parents may think you hung the sun in the sky, but I’m not about to build my life around your hunches and whims. I’ll think for myself.”

“And you think that you ought to be the next king,” Alzyn said.

Vaclan got to his feet. “This has nothing to do with me,” he said. “The Ocean has rejected more than twenty candidates to marry Irezan. The Assembly is starting to whisper. Without a Prince Ethereal, there’s no certainty about the succession. She’s twenty-eight, Alzyn! There’s never been an heir unmarried at that age!”

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“Let the Assembly whisper. She will survive, and the right man will come along. Don’t tell me you wish for anything else.”

Vaclan spoke with a quiet, tightly-controlled anger that was far more menacing than his shouting. “I love my sister, Alzyn, and wish her a long and happy life. I look forward to serving her and her future husband for the rest of my days. I’m sure you were not implying anything else, of course.”

“Of course. And I know that Lady Saiglen feels exactly the way you do,” Alzyn replied with too much nonchalance.

“Of course she does,” Vaclan snapped, the careful composure of a moment earlier shattered. “You’d best hope that your swordplayer comes through—and that my mother returns unharmed.”

“What’s going on?” someone asked from the doorway. Everyone turned to see the woman they’d just been speaking of—Princess Irezan. A white and gold dressing gown was wrapped around her willowy frame.

“Oh! Esar, you’re getting so tall,” she added.

Now all eyes swung towards him. He imagined their thoughts: whatever Irezan might or might not have overheard, there was no doubt that Esar had heard the whole thing. He wasn’t sorry. That was what they got for forgetting he existed.

Vaclan explained to his sister what had happened overnight. Strange, that while all that had been going on, no one thought to awaken the heir to the throne. Not even Esar’s mother, always her defender and champion. True, Irezan wasn’t quite well yet, but in such an emergency . . .

It had been Prince Vaclan, not his sister, who’d taken a leading role. He waited on the Ocean as well. The prince and Lady Saiglen had been in love for as long as Esar could remember, but Vaclan couldn’t marry until his sister did. If anything happened to Irezan, he would be required to take her place and marry a woman chosen by the Ocean.

* * *

The tension didn’t dissipate until late that evening, when news arrived via the speaking line that Danthan had been triumphant, and Zafrys had re-sealed the construct that escaped.

When Danthan returned the next morning, the people of Thaliron wanted to march him straight from the station down to the Ocean’s shore. He’d put a stop to that talk by thanking Alzyn for sounding the warning with the sort of kiss that was usually reserved for the finale of a stage play.

Esar looked away. He had dreamed the same dream, sounded the same warning. Not that he wanted exactly the same sort of thanks, but it would have been nice to be noticed.

“And we still don’t know why it broke out in the first place,” Esar told his mother when he had a chance to speak to her. “What if it happens again?”

“We’ll figure that out,” his mother replied. Esar noticed that she said “we,” not “I,” and wondered if she was including him as well as Danthan.

I’ll figure it out, Esar resolved silently. He’d read every book in the palace library if that’s what it took to prove himself useful.