Rowan
“Are you serious? It’s been weeks.” Rowan stood in front of a
mirror while servants scuttled around him, straightening his jacket,
combing his hair so it sat just so, fixing the golden ropes around his
wrist.
“It’s only rumor, sire, but they have been circling since the
assassination attempt. I think we should up your security,” said Talion,
a priest of the Golden Order. His eyes roamed the men and women
helping Rowan dress for his wedding.
Rowan sighed and took a drink of the wine sitting on the table
beside him. “If a Ghost really wanted me dead, don’t you think they
could get through whatever security I have? Isn’t it their job to be better
than them?”
“High Priest Elione will command it if you don’t agree, sire.
Your welfare is important.”
Rowan snorted. “If my welfare was important, I wouldn't have
to marry that woman.”
Talion cringed but said nothing. Rowan hadn’t tried to hide his
disdain for the future princess, but it was his father’s wish, and High
Priest Elione had approved enthusiastically.
The door to Rowan’s apartments burst open and a serving girl
barged in. Rowan glared at her, not used to people coming in
unannounced. The girl's eyes grew wide, and she swallowed, but Talion
gestured for her to speak.
“Eris is ready, sir. And all the guests have arrived.” Her eyes
flickered to Rowan and back to Talion.
“Thank you, my dear. We’ll be right down.”
The serving girl nodded and ran back out, forgetting to shut the
door in her haste. Talion waved the rest of the servants out behind her.
“Is she new? Someone should teach her how to do her job
properly,” Rowan said, picking up a box with a set of diamond earrings
and slipping it into his pocket. He took one last look at himself,
admiring the purple jacket trimmed in gold.
“The stress of the day has hit all of us. Better to forgive those
who make mistakes under pressure.”
Rowan rolled his eyes. “Let’s get this over with.”
In the ballroom, guests stood in a circle around High Priest
Elione, who wore regal black robes trimmed in purple. Music played
softly, but when Rowan stepped out into the balcony, a softer tune
began. On the other side of the room, Eris walked onto her own balcony.
Her dress was the opposite colors, gold with purple trimming.
Her hairdresser had piled it on top of her head with each strand placed
in just the right spot. It had to have taken hours.
Rowan wanted to puke, but he swallowed it with a smile and
waved as they both walked down their respective staircases. The crowd
made a path as they moved in step to the music into the middle of the
ballroom where Elione stood.
He held out a hand to each of them and Rowan placed his in the
priest's palm. Eris grinned, her face glowing. This close up, he could
see bright red stained lips and darker eyelashes. It was an interesting
effect he’d see the ladies around court experiment with, but he had
never asked how they did it.
“The love one holds for another is built over time, through good
times and hardships alike. The Yrridan’s taught us to be patient and
caring. They are the binding that brings these two together in a bond
held by no other.”
In perfect, practiced fashion, Rowan and Eris draped the
colored ropes coiled around their wrists across the hand the priest held.
With the other hand, they entwined the second pair of ropes together
and clasped them between their entwined fingers.
Rowan’s eye twitched when their fingers touched, but he didn’t
think she noticed.
High Priest Elione threw back his head and cried, “Rowan of
Royal House Alverdan and Eris of House Eldrida, I welcome you,
Yrridan! Take these two wonderful souls under your arm and guide
them. Let them feel pain, let them feel suffering, and let them feel
peace.”
His hands stiffened, then relaxed, letting go of the couple.
Rowan reached into his pocket and brought out the diamond earrings.
Eris pulled out a copy of the same box, and together they pulled out the
earrings.
Rowan dropped to one knee and held still as Eris shoved the
single earring through his ear. The backs were as sharp as a needle, but
it still stung. He did the same for her, shoving each earring into an
earlobe. Eris winced at each, but it was the only indication of pain.
“The sacrifice has been accepted! May you live in peace
forever more.” Elione stepped back and bowed. Rowan held both hands
up, as was required, and Eris placed her hands on his, and they touched
foreheads.
The crowd exploded into cheers and applause, opening a path
for Rowan to lead his new bride from the ballroom and up to their new
suite. Once the door shut, they dispensed with the act. Rowan released
her hand, and the plastered smile fell from his face. His ear was sore,
and he wanted a glass of wine.
“Oh, come on, Rowan. All it takes is once,” Eris pleaded,
sitting on the edge of the bed.
“They can force me to marry you, but they can’t force me to do
anything else.” He crossed his arms and stared out the window.
“Just close your eyes or something. You need an heir as soon
as possible!”
“Why? Planning on killing me?” Rowan looked at his new
wife, an eyebrow raised.
Her face lost all color. “What? No! It’s my duty. I’ve been
raised my entire life for this moment, to be a mother to your children.
To raise kings. With the Ghosts coming for you and your grandfather
sick enough to be quarantined—”
“You believe that too?” Rowan laughed, but there was no
amusement in it. “They’re rumors, Eris. No Ghost is going to kill me.”
“But what if something else happens? If you don’t have an heir,
there won’t be anyone to take your place!”
Rowan rolled his eyes and stalked back to the bed, leaning
down so they were face to face.
“We don’t have power, anyway. We’re just here to look pretty
and pretend while the Golden Order pulls all the strings. God chosen or
not, who cares who sits on the throne?”
Tears streamed from her eyes, making black smudges on her
cheeks from the eyelash paint. Rowan sighed and shook his head.
“I’ll think about it, okay?”
He left her sitting on the bed, closing the door softly behind
him. The corridor was deserted, and he slipped back into his own
apartments undetected. There would be no thinking about it. His mind
was already made up. Heir or no, he had no interest in consummating
this marriage. Time for that and kids would come later. He was only
twenty-three passes after all.
He spent the rest of the night tracking down servants who knew
the rumors of the Ghost. His security hadn’t increased yet, but it would
soon and he wanted to find the truth before he couldn’t.
“Crown Prince Rowan! Welcome, sire. Please, what do we owe
this pleasure?” A woman twice Rowan’s age with a scar on her chin
bowed deep to him as he pushed open the servants quarters. He
expected to find them all asleep, but at least a third of them were still
running around.
“I need to talk to everyone who has heard the rumors about the
Ghost.”
“Of course, sire. I can ask around and bring them to your
apartments, or—”
“I’d like this to go quickly. Just tell me what you know and
whoever else is here can tell me when you’re finished.”
She nodded and took a breath, standing up straight, hands
clasped in front of her. “Personally, I haven’t heard anything to do with
you, sire. I have no time for gossip. But I have heard about a Ghost who
is powerful enough to kill other Ghosts. They say he stalks the
countryside, showing up in Wavefront one day and Halfway-ToNowhere the next. Those he sets his sights on don’t survive.”
“Other Ghosts? What for?”
She shrugged. “It’s not for me to say, sire. I don’t know much
about the affair of gods.”
Rowan waved her off. “Fine, fine. Bring me someone else.”
Hurrying off, she brought back a young boy with a bucket of
water in his hands. He looked up at Rowan with huge eyes and mouth
agape.
“What have you heard about Ghosts, young man?” Rowan
asked, crouching down to his level.
“I, uh, they’re very scary, Crown Prince. My friend, Hilda,
thinks one is coming after you and she cries every night. Said she heard
it from the old stable man. I don’t want a Ghost to get you, Prince
Rowan, sir. You are very kind to us.”
“The Ghosts won’t get me,” Rowan said, putting a hand on the
boy's shoulder. “Run along now and finish your chores.”
He nodded and toddled away, full bucket swaying dangerously
in his arms. The woman with the scar wasn’t back yet, so Rowan
stopped a teenage girl as she came into the room.
“Oh, Prince Rowan. I didn’t expect to see you.” She blushed
deeply and curtsied.
“Tell me, what do you know about the rumors of Ghosts?”
“Terrible things, sire.” She lowered her voice, forcing Rowan
to lean in closer. “A rogue Ghost plaguing Alarya, killing for fun. I hear
he’s trying to kill the most prestigious of people, just for the challenge.
Even killed one of his own kind.”
“Do you think I should have cause to worry?”
Her face turned grave. “Most definitely, sire. You are of utmost
importance in these parts. If he was to get to you before an heir is
announced, Alarya would fall into chaos, and what else could a rogue
Ghost want?”
Rowan sighed and straightened. “Thank you. You have been
most helpful.”
She curtsied again and hurried off just as the woman with the
scar returned with a Frayer, one of the night guard captains.
“Captain Frayer.” Rowan tilted his head in greeting.
“Prince Rowan. I hear you are concerned about the Ghost
rumors?” The man was only forty passes but looked well into his fifties.
He had seen battle throughout his time, and scars lined his face and
hands. His head was shaved and a red welt split it in two. Rowan was
told an enemy had driven an ax into his skull, but he pulled it out and
killed the guy, living to tell the tale. He wasn’t sure if it was true or not,
but Frayer was just scary enough that he believed it.
“Concerned? No, merely attempting to separate truth from lie.”
“Ah, a worthy, if difficult, pastime. Believe you me. What
would you like to know?”
“What would a Ghost want with me, Frayer? Did anything turn
up from the investigation of my attempted assassination?”
“If you are asking me personally, I would say the Ghost who
tried to kill you that night and the rumors now are unrelated. We could
only trace back the summons to some farmer outside Pinesdale unhappy
with the taxes. Mind you, if he paid his taxes instead of the Ghost’s fee
for such an important job, he wouldn't have a problem.”
“What do the others think, then?”
Frayer rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I believe the rumors
are many stories put together, but others think it's proof of an inside
job.”
Rowan felt the blood drain from his face. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t take my word for it, my prince, it’s just another rumor
trail I’ve been following, but my men have heard that Princess Eris’s
father never wanted her to marry you and has been hiring Ghosts to get
rid of you, except none have succeeded yet.”
“I knew nothing good would come from her. Thank you,
Frayer,” Rowan said, slapping the older man on the shoulder. He
grimaced and shook it, remembering only after the fact the captain was
wearing armor.
Frayer bowed. “Have no worries, my prince. We are
rearranging guard duty to better protect you, whatever turns out to be
true.”
Rowan nodded, and the grizzled man left. Only one person
remained. He climbed the stairs back to his apartments, stopping on the
landing just before his own, and knocked on the door.
Several moments later, it creaked open to reveal a blurry eyed
Rourke. He tugged the door open and stood aside.
“My prince, please come in.”
“Dispense with the formalities, Rourke. I need to talk to you.”
Rowan strode inside and paced the length of Rourke’s sitting room.
“What’s going on, Rowan?”
He didn’t answer right away. Rourke lit a lantern and set it on
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
a table, careful to keep it away from the stack of books.
“It’s the rumors of this Ghost.”
Rourke opened his mouth, but Rowan put up a hand. “Let me
explain. Something doesn’t quite add up. Growing up, I didn’t have a
single fear. There was no need. I’ve always been the Crown Prince.
Everyone loved me, if only because of that. But now, suddenly and
without any provocation, someone, somewhere, wants me dead.
“There’s a tightness in my chest, Rourke. For the first time in
my life, I’m scared. These are Ghosts we are talking about. Ghosts!
Emotionless killing machines that can’t be killed themselves. I learned
more about the myths, the legends. I now know we got lucky the night
one tried to kill me. If I had woken up a second later, I’d be dead now.
He’s still out there and, if there is anything to the rumors, is still coming
for me. What do I do, Rourke?” Rowan stopped pacing and turned to
his friend. There was a tenderness in the piscine’s eyes as he walked
over and enveloped Rowan in a hug.
“The worst thing you can do is allow the worry to take over.
Focus on what you can control, and leave the rest to me, okay?” Rourke
pulled back and Rowan nodded, dropping into one of the chairs around
the table and rubbing his face.
“How’s it going with Eris?” he asked, setting tea to boil on the
still hot coals of a fire in the hearth.
Rowan glared at him around his fingers. “You know better than
anyone how it’s going with her. Why do you think I’m here?”
Rourke sighed. “I’m sorry you’ve been put in this situation, but
don’t blame her. She was forced into it just as much as you were, and
things can’t seem much better on her side.”
“Gods, I hate it when you’re right.”
“I never wanted to be the one to say it, but the Golden Order
won’t back down until you have an heir. It might just be easier to get it
done, then go about your life how you wish to live it. There are tricks,
you know. Ways to track when she is most likely to become pregnant
on the first try.” He poured them both tea from the boiling pot.
“I can do that?”
“Well, she can. She’ll know herself best. Talk to her, Rowan.
Come up with a plan. I know rebelling against everything you don’t
agree with is appealing, but you should pick those battles carefully.
Take too much at one time and it will come back with more than you
can handle.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll do as you say.”
Rourke looked at him, unsmiling. “I’m sorry, Rowan. I’d rather
tell you not to give up, keep fighting for yourself. But with the Golden
Order pulling strings…” Setting his cup on the counter, Rourke sighed.
“Send for Ilia. She knows everything there is to know about babies,
including the best ways to make them.”
“Thank you, Rourke.” Rowan squeezed his shoulder, and
Rourke patted Rowan’s hand.
“Keep your wits about you, my prince. We’ll get through this
yet.”
Rowan slipped from Rourke’s apartments and walked back
down the stairs, returning to his and Eris’s shared suite. He opened the
door softly and found her reading by candlelight, her eyes ringed red.
“Come to talk down at me more?” she asked, glaring.
“No,” he sighed. “I’m sorry, okay? I’ve been under a lot of
stress and I acted poorly. If you agree to it, I was informed you are able
to track the best days to get pregnant. I’m willing to work with you and
give you an heir if we can make this as least difficult as possible.”
She nodded slowly. “We are free to do as we wish once the heir
is born?”
“Of course. The marriage is a political deal only.”
“Agreed. I know of this tracking method, but it can be
nuanced.”
“The servant woman Ilia is supposed to know of such things.”
“I will talk to her in the morning. Now, if you don’t mind, dear
husband, I would like to finish my chapter before I sleep.”
Rowan nodded, leaving her to her book, and heading back to
his own room.
***
The next few days passed reasonably well, if Rowan was any
judge. Eris did her duties as princess graciously, smiling and talking to
everyone. Even when they were alone, her mood was chipper, telling
Rowan in three days time she would be ready.
He followed her example and gave her a cheery smile at the
news. Neither of them had let Rowan’s reluctance spread. Even Ilia was
under the impression they were excited to have kids and thus the reason
for the rush.
Rowan busied himself with his own duties. Listening to the
common folks' problems in his grandfather's stead, hosting a feast for
Astroff, commander of the city guards, taking advice from his
grandfather’s council on how best to run the city. It kept his mind
occupied and off the Ghosts.
It was easier said than done. Rourke strode in late to the day's
council meeting with a grave expression on his face.
“I have bad news,” he said, taking his seat.
“How much more can we get?” cried Priest Jaylyn, throwing
his hands in the air.
Rourke glanced at him, but ignored the outburst. “A Ghost has
been spotted just outside Kingston.”
A gasp went around the room, the other members glancing at
Rowan and whispering to each other. Rowan swallowed, his heart
plummeting. Rourke let the interruption die down before continuing.
“I can only conclude he wants us to see him. If he was on a job,
we would never have known he was here until long after he left again.”
“What does that mean for us?” asked Commander Astroff,
leaning forward in his chair.
“I can’t say. My son is looking into it now. If we are lucky, it’s
just a coincidence, and he’s passing through on his travels. If we
aren’t….” Rourke let it hang in the air.
“The rest of the Golden Order should be notified immediately.
Excuse me.” Jaylyn jumped to his feet and slammed through the door
at a run.
Rowan's fingers gripped the edge of the table and he stared at
Rourke, a bead of sweat running down his temple. “What do we do?
We can’t spare more men to guard me.”
“True, but we don’t need more men. We need to reduce the
opportunities the Ghost has to get to you,” said Sorah, the master of
spies.
“And how’s that?” Rowan snapped.
“Move to the tallest tower on the west end, there’s only one
way in and out.”
“That might work. What do you say, Rowan?” Rourke and the
rest of the council looked at him. He tapped his finger on the table and
chewed on his cheek.
“If it’s the best option, I’ll do it.”
Rourke nodded. “It’s settled then. Whatever else we had on the
table will be postponed until we have a better grasp at what’s going on.
Commander, set your guards on watch, Sorah, report to the king. I’ll
escort the Crown Prince and inform his wife, who should also have
extra guards, just in case.”
Everyone stood at once. Rourke took Rowan’s arm and hurried
him from the war room, heading straight for the west tower.
“Is this really happening?” Rowan asked, his heart pounding.
“It is. I didn’t think it would get this far.”
“You’ll let me know what’s going on right? You won’t just
leave me up there wondering?”
Rourke took Rowan by the arms, right outside the tower door.
“Of course, Rowan. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.
Now go, I’ll send Kael as soon as we have more information and I’ll
come see you myself in the morning.”
Rowan went through the door and climbed the stairs. There
were only archery slits for windows, but a fully furnished sitting room
stood at the top with a small bedroom and washroom connected. The
only full window was in the sitting room between two bookshelves.
With a click, Rowan flipped the latch and swung open the
window, airing out the musty room. The height was staggering.
Looking at it from below was one thing, but actually being this high up
was another.
He took an unsteady step back and fell into the chair, hands
hiding his face. The rumors were petering out, he had almost forgotten
about them, but now each one hurtled to the forefront of his mind.
These could be his last days in this world, and he was spending
them alone in a tower.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
As the sun sunk below the horizon, a timid knock came at the
door. Rowan sat up from his slump and called for them to come in. Kael
stepped through the door.
“Crown Prince Rowan.” He bowed.
“What news?” Rowan asked, gesturing for the piscine boy to
sit. He did so on the edge of the chair.
“We’ve lost the Ghosts trail. We think he picked up a job
around town somewhere. My father told Sorah to send out his spies to
watch for signs of him. He believes you are safe for the night, at least.”
Relief didn’t replace Rowan’s dread, but it did ease it.
“Thanks, Kael. Stay safe, and tell your dad the same.”
Kael stood and bowed, the lantern light reflecting off the scales
of his forearm fins and turning the skin a sickly gray instead of its
normal luxurious blue. Green hair fell over his eyes. “I’ll tell him. A
servant will be sent in the morning with breakfast.”
Rowan closed the door behind Kael and slumped against it. It
would be an unnerving night, but at least he didn’t have to spend it with
Eris.
Kael had been speaking the truth. The sun had already risen
well above the horizon when another knock came from the door. Rowan
tripped from his bed sheets, opening it a crack and peering out. The
teenager he had spoken to the other night stood outside with a tray, an
array of fruits, nuts, eggs, and cheese splayed across it.
“Set it on the table,” Rowan said, his voice thick with sleep. He
had only finally fallen asleep a few hours ago, after tossing and turning,
waiting for a Ghost to appear in his window like the night at the tavern.
She walked in and set the tray on the low table. From the crook
of her arm, she pulled a jug of water and set it next to the tray.
“Anything else, Prince Rowan?”
“Wine, perhaps,” he said, sitting heavily on the chair.
“Of course, sire.” She curtsied and traipsed out the room.
He ate slowly, glancing out the window. It was locked tight
again, he had triple checked it before going to bed, but it still sent the
chills down his spine. When he had eaten all that he could stomach, and
the wine still wasn’t there yet, Rowan stood and stretched, walking into
the bedroom and rummaging in a wardrobe for clothes. Full sets of
trousers, silk shirts, and boots of three different sizes lay inside.
Electing to wear the same clothes as yesterday, he would ask
the serving girl to bring up a few sets of his clothing. He glanced out
the window and saw someone on a horse far below. Rowan sighed,
already imagining a normal life again when all this was over. He’d even
promise to try twice with Eris if she didn’t get pregnant the first time.
A knock on the door announced the arrival of the wine.
“Come in,” Rowan called. The serving girl came in, sat the
wine on the table, and picked up the tray.
“Will you bring me an extra set of clothes as well?” he asked.
“Of course, my prince.” She curtsied, but hadn’t figured out the
art of hiding emotions, and annoyance wrinkled her nose.
“Thank you. What’s your name?”
“Arya, sire.”
“Thank you, Arya.”
He smiled at her as she left, hoping she wasn’t too mad at him.
He had seen what happened when the servants were treated badly or
unfairly, and it wasn’t pretty. Almost no one had any idea how to live
without them. There was a time when they went on strike and the royals
and the Golden Order caved after two days without food and gave the
servants what they wanted.
Rowan closed his eyes and let out a long breath. A cool breeze
rustled his hair and he smiled, reaching for the wine and a goblet. He
poured it, lifted it to his lips, and the goblet exploded. He stared at his
wine soaked hand in shock. The hair on the back of his neck rose as
another breeze tickled his skin, but that couldn’t be right, the window
was closed.
He turned slowly, holding his breath. Crouching on the
windowsill of the open window was a Ghost.