When I woke up, the healers impressed on us that I was very, very, very lucky. Somehow I had consumed poison—most likely dinner, when I hadn’t been paying attention. A part of me wanted to blame my mindlessness on the day’s event. More likely, even if I’d been completely present, I wouldn’t have noticed.

The heat of battle was what I was used to. Clear instructions from training, or navigating the Deep Woods with little supervision. This wasn’t any of those things. It wasn’t acceptable to blatantly spill blood. Here, you could only get away with killing if you employed sleight of hand—something I had never been trained in. Something Talon gleefully reminded me of after each hunt.

Perhaps this was something Menone had foreseen? What if he didn’t truly value me as a king, but just wanted to use me to draw out his enemies? It was not a comfortable thought, seeing the strings that may be pulling you but not being clever enough to do anything about them. Menone, Ruuthelaine, did everyone who wanted to help me have some ulterior motive? I may as well just attack them all.

I shook my head. Shouldn’t do that. Those are thoughts from the Fiend. I don’t think like that.

Nania stayed close by throughout the entire ordeal. Maybe taking a wound for her would have been dramatic enough to earn her forgiveness. As it stood, getting poisoned was only enough to earn her pity. Perhaps not even that. The entire night, what I was awake for, she seemed twitchy and irritable, getting into arguments with the healers when she stood in their way. She was forced from the room shortly before I passed out, and only allowed back in sometime after I stabilized and awoke.

There would be little sleep tonight. Instead I allowed my mind to simply drift, idly nodding at what people told me. Though Nania and I had quarreled earlier, not even threatening to appoint Lordrin my aide had driven her away. Unless perhaps it was a bluff from her? Did she just not believe I’d really do it? Well, now that I was considering it, it really did seem a good idea. Even if he didn’t want to help me, he could be a shield against any other assassination attempts, right? If nothing else, it might appease the traditionalists—or just rile them up further, seeing their ‘rightful ruler’ serving under a commoner boy. Who could really say.

Not that I shared any of these thoughts with Nania. Eventually she was allowed back into the room, at which point she fell back on nearly every nervous habit she’d previously broken out of. Stuttering, fingernail chewing, hair twirling, pinching herself. Finally she began to ramble awkwardly, lengthily. I simply nodded as she danced from topic to topic to topic, eventually reaching the topic of my would-be assassin in the early hours of the morning.

“If it was her own son she had poisoned, she would’ve been executed by now,” Nania groused. “You wouldn’t even have to hold a trial. But just because you weren’t born a Crown-son—”

“We—” I tried to say, but my voice came out as an awkward croak. Furtively I gestured for the pitcher of water, which Nania handed to me. Then I tried again. “We don’t know for sure it was Head Priestess Forya. We can’t kill her.”

“It had to be her—or one of her lackeys. You told me she’s been vocal about not liking you—”

“I said she’s opposed my decree. She’s hardly the only one.”

“You replaced her son and released Talon. You can’t read or write. You’re not even blood of the Crowns. She hates you,” Nia snorted.

“I didn’t release Talon, he—he left on his own.”

She gave me a sidelong glance. “And how did he leave the city, then—no, the temple?”

I lacked the energy to argue her point.

Carefully I sat upright in the bed. Thanks to the herbs used by the healers, the pain was largely kept at bay; instead I just felt tired and a little dizzy. Still, I drew my thoughts together.

“I am King,” I repeated. “My actions carry hidden meanings, even when I don’t intend them. We need to be as legitimate as possible when acting. And we can’t act rashly. I don’t want to cause a coup or riot.”

“Ellie, she poisoned you,” Nania hissed. “If you don’t do something quickly, you might actually die.”

“Or, I might punish the wrong person, and get killed by the real culprit when I relax. Or people will use it as proof that I’m just a stupid farmer’s child after all, that even the Crowns can make a mistake, and I should’ve known my place,” I huffed my retort. “I suppose I could just slaughter my whole court, too—but then I’d be executed for insanity.” Assuming they even wait for an excuse like that.

Nania fell silent for a time, kicking her legs back and forth. Idly, I wondered if I should try to sleep.

“This is nostalgic, isn’t it?” she asked in a low voice. “This is how we met, in an infirmary. Remember?”

“I remember an idiot girl trying to fly by jumping off a rooftop—and landing on me as I was leaving the Temple.”

Her freckled, blotchy face became much, much redder. “I—I didn’t actually think I could fly—”

“Then why did you jump off a rooftop?” I threw a pillow at her. She caught it easily.

“I said sorry,” she pouted. “Several times. I snuck into the infirmary so you wouldn’t be lonely.”

“I don’t think I remember that—must’ve hit my head.”

She threw the pillow back in my face. I blinked at her, owlishly. “Wh-who are you? Where is this?”

That got a laugh, even if she seemed to regret it right after. “I really wasn’t trying to jump, I just, kinda…slipped.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be running around on rooftops, then?”

At that she only huffed.

Her voice was hesitant as she began to speak. “...I know you probably don’t want to discuss it, but about what I said earlier—”

“You’re right. I don’t,” I said. “It’s late. Goodnight, Nania.”

Her face fell, and she quickly turned away, slipping off the bed. “R-right…goodnight, Ellie.”

----------------------------------------

Though sleep was invited in, it didn’t deign to visit. I Elian The Crown-son drifted in and out, but was left tossing and turning much of the night. Eventually I he abandoned the endeavor altogether and ‘woke’ early—before the suns rose, before anyone else would come to attend to his needs, or drag him to my new duties.

Do the Crowns and Fiend ever sleep? The Falcon’s supposed to be chasing the Fiend all day, and the Fiend’s supposed to be birthing monsters all night…is that when the Falcon sleeps? So when does the Fiend sleep, or do gods not need to? So what does the Falcon do at night…? And if the Fiend’s got time to watch me, is that old story even accurate? Do gods get nightmares?

Didn’t I hear something about that once? Some storyteller sayingCrown Naruune would send her favored heroes dreams of the future. Visions and prophecies.

The Crown-son’s feet took him to a door, outside which were posted two bleary-eyed guards. Both stiffened up as they noticed him. “C-crown-son!” One saluted abruptly.

He waved them off, and they allowed him entrance to speak with the prisoner.

The room within was not dissimilar to the one within which Nania had been confined. Plain, small, but not uncomfortable. Well, perhaps it was uncomfortable for one who, until now, had never been anything except a king. From the expression on Lordrin’s face, you’d think knives had been taken to his flesh. The bored expression immediately lit up as he noticed the visitor, a number of other emotions flashing across his face haggard before he settled on something like smugness, arrogance.

“Elian, was it?” he said in lieu of a greeting, a barely-noticeable tremor to his face. “You look awful.” When the visitor said nothing, he continued. “I suppose you must be back to restore me to my rightful position.”

“We can discuss that,” the Crown-son said, managing a cheerful tone. He stepped back towards the doorway, gesturing for the prisoner to walk with him. As they exited the room, Lordrin eyed the guards suspiciously, clearly making an effort to memorize their faces.

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“The view’s pretty nice from the balcony, isn’t it?” The Crown-son placed a hand on the other man’s arm, dragging him away. When the guards hesitantly moved to follow, he waved them off.

Indeed, the view was rather nice from the balcony when they finally arrived. Already the two suns had crested over the horizon, shedding light across the ocean and the horizon. Below, the city was beginning to stir. Fishermen would be heading down to the docks, shopkeeps opening up their storefronts.

Lordrin seemed to be utterly enraptured by the city. He gazed into the azure sky, wind ruffling his long, auburn hair, carefully tilting his head as he heard the pigeons on the temple roof chirp. Though he hadn’t been in his little windowless room very long, he looked as though he hadn’t seen the sky in years. The last time he must have seen it had maybe been a day or two ago.

Talon had been locked underground longer. There were other Angrans still under there now.

The ex-king turned to his companion suddenly, green eyes gleaming with purpose. “Well, my city is still standing. Am I meant to thank you?”

“I haven’t done that terrible a job as king, have I?”

“Apparently not, but the bags under your eyes have much to say.”

“Do they really? Guess captivity doesn’t suit you much better. You look like you’ve seen death.”

“Mm. Perhaps.” His eyes remained fixed on the city below. “Tell me, ‘Crown-son’. Have you ever heard the story of how Crown Naruune ordered the world?”

“I hadn’t known there were any stories left of creation,” said the other.

“Because this isn’t a story of creation. In every story known to me, Crown Naruune and Naea, the earth she cares for, have simply always existed. Perhaps Crown Arcturus has existed alongside her, perhaps he arrives from a distant star, in pursuit of visiting justice upon the Fiend,” he said. Then he paused, for an uncomfortably long moment, peering at the other out from the corner of his eye. Again, emotions flickered across his face this time—hatred.

Does he know? Who ‘Crown Ruuthelaine’ really is? Does he know what you really are? He knows, he knows, he’ll send you over the railing and dash your head upon the pavement, you’d deserve it you—

“The land always existed, but it wasn’t always the paradise you see before you,” Lordrin finally continued. “It was once a chaotic mixture of plants and animals, a haven to none. Crown Naruune assigned each creation its place. She asked Hallow Zaya to teach humans of the importance of all things. Mice consume the grain, the snake swallows the mouse, the hawk watches the duplicitous serpent…”

“...And the worm eats all of them,” the other finished.

The Fiend. The disruptor. The alien. The intruder.

She has no place.

“Everything in its place,” Lordrin agreed.

“And the Crown-son’s place is in his city’s throne.”

An uncharacteristically wry smile spread across his face, green eyes glinting. “You’re cleverer than you look. Yes. The Crown-son’s destined place is on the throne.”

The beloved one of the Crown-Fiend hummed, non-committedly. Lordrin carried on, “

“And yet this Crown Ruuthelaine has appeared, with a rival Crown-son. You. Of course, I am certain you are something quite special, to have caught the eye of a Crown. Even I can see that. And I am not opposed to giving a boy such as you the position he deserves. It is true that your Crown assisted you in winning the duel, but was it merely duty that caused you to challenge me? Or was it something else? Power, riches, fame? The Priestesses of the temple?” He smiled cruelly. “Even we are human, after all. It is only human to desire that which is better than one deserves.”

At that the Fiend-son had to choke back a desperate laugh.

Lordrin seemed to seize onto that. “I thought so. Which is it? Hm…Nania, I would bet. The timing would make sense. Well—” he waved an arm dismissively “—you’re free to have her, if you’d like to compete with an Angran dog for her affections.”

His laughter became a little more genuine, as Lordrin gazed at him strangely. The Crown-son mimicked his dismissive gesture. “I’m sorry, Crown-son. Priestess-Candidate Nania does not hold my heart.”

“Is it the Angran, then? Well. So long as your dog doesn’t bite, you may spend your sparetime how you please—I’d be the one of us expected to form an heir.” His smile became sharper, wicked. “Though I claim to love my Priestesses, none of them hold my heart. That belongs to another.” He turned, directing his gaze across the city one more time. “Too many tales are told of Kings too easily manipulated by their wives and mothers in the past, you know. The city cannot prosper in the hands of a weak-hearted fool. One infected by petty ‘passion’ and ‘romance’.”

“Who says I love anyone or anything at all?”

Lordrin’s eyes snapped back to him me, seeming to pierce through my skull and peer into the depths of my very soul. His face was pale, pupils tiny, shrunken dots. Then the lines of his face contorted again into a different emotion.

“Don’t be foolish. I may acknowledge how it makes people foolish. But love’s a curse that plagues all of us,” said Lordrin. “Only the Sun Fiend and her Fiendspawn lack of it. Even the worst scum is driven by it.”

My smile twisted bitterly. “Seems like I’m not a very good candidate for King after all,” I said, “and yet. The Crowns did pick me as king, while abandoning you. I don’t think they meant for me to be your attendant—but perhaps they’d consider the other way around? If it’s any consolation,” I added, “I know my rule won’t last very long. I don’t intend to leave behind an heir. I won’t mind allowing your children to take up that responsibility, so long as you prove yourself reliable. S’not a bad deal, is it?”

Lordrin’s mouth fell open in a mixture of shock and anger. “The gods did not abandon me, nor did they choose you,” he said. “Your Crown Ruuthelaine interfered—or shall I name her as she truly is, th Sun Fie—”

The Fiend-son’s arms acted of their own accord and grabbed Lordrin. He barely had enough time to look surprised before his upper body was hanging over the balcony railing, held up only by the strength of two arms. Two arms that had trained in combat, helped another boy off the ground, cooked meals. Plucked away feather and flesh and bone.

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up,” he whispered. “You don’t know a gods-be-damned thing.”

Lordrin choked, barely spitting out a response. “I know enough. You plot with rogue Priestesses, fraternize with savages. You plan to burn this city to the ground.”

“I just want this stupid fucking war to cease. I want no more deaths. I want everyone happy. Is that so bad?” he returned.

“You’re either a liar, or terribly naive.”

“Why is it?” the Fiendspawn whispered. “You preach of love and community and tolerance. But when it comes to the Angra, when it comes to me—” He blinked. “Maybe I should sacrifice you to the Fiend. If the great and almighty love doesn’t work, maybe the equally great empathy will.”

“That is—that is not my place!” Lordrin’s amber eyes bulged, as he flailed. The Fiendspawn’s grip tightened. “That is not my—!”

“You were wrong about Crown Naruune. Do you even know where her place for you is?”

His olive-hued face had gone pale. Sweat made his skin slippery to the touch. I dropped him on the balcony floor. Safe.

I…didn’t mean to say any of that.

“But I—I won’t do that. I won’t. You’re right, even kings are just human. We don’t know what plans the gods have in store—do we even have the right to judge people in that way?” I said, hastily. “You may not be fated to be a king anymore. But, what was it you said? I am certain you are something quite special, to have caught the eye of a Crown. Even I can see that. And I am not opposed to giving a boy such as you the position he deserves.’ My—my offer to you still stands.”

Lordrin’s face became a mask of absolute disgust. Then, surprisingly, he began to laugh. The sound was more boisterous and lively than I would’ve ever expected. He slapped a hand against the railing, lifting himself up, an almost-crazed grin on his face.

“Me? You offer me the role of aide? You haggle with me over my own damn city?” he asked. “You’re right—I do demand full possession of my city. Because that is what my father—is what my Mother promised me, from birth. To be a king the likes of which this city has never seen. And your Crown may have promised you things too, commoner, but this is not the city of Crown Ruuthelaine, is? Everything here is mine. Including your Priestess. Including you.”

His face went from one of disgusted fascination to absolute disdain, even as a hand reached for my hair. “I should tell all of them. They deserve to know that they have all been fooled by the puppet of the Sun Fiend—”

My hand moved again, striking him across the face, and sending him reeling headfirst into the balcony. Lordrin was laid out across the ground, temple badly bruised.

I blinked.

----------------------------------------

Lordrin was sent to the healers. I returned to my duties.

Maybe it was just exhaustion, but today I struggled to remain present. To pay close attention to everything. Watching my body from afar wasn’t unusual. Missing time like that was. Even so, my mind still found time to wander.

Why had the Sun Fiend chosen me to support? Was she capable of controlling my body? Was it not me she planned to make king, but herself? It…seemed frighteningly likely. But I didn’t for a moment consider giving Lordrin back his throne.

He didn’t deserve it any more than I did. They’d just given him lessons for it.

Focusing was difficult. My head and arm did me no favors. The day seemed to swim around me, though I like to think I did well enough, my mouth running as it ever did while my head considered other problems. Everything was made more complicated by the rumors surrounding my actions. Letting an Angran prisoner escape, revoking the Rite of Sunset, my stroll with the ex-Crown-son and his condition afterwards.

Were they scared of me? Was that a good thing?

At one point, late in the morning, it occurred to me I’d been staring into space while a guard waited patiently for my acknowledgement. With some alarm I straightened, giving him an official nod. He bowed, seeming rather flustered.

I cleared my throat. “Sorry, I didn’t see you; have you been waiting long?”

The guard started at my greeting. “No, not at all, Crown-son!” he replied, sharply. “It’s just, er…”

“Yes? Has something happened?”

“You could say that,” he said, his tone becoming awkward. “I’m…not sure there’s ever been anything like it. It…defies description.”

“Try describing it.”

“Very wise, Crown-son. Well…” Sweat beaded on the guard’s forehead, and he finally spat out, “The rogue Priestess has punched the Head Priestess in the face.”