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Cho Nisi had no vessels as large or as sturdy as The Isabella, the Tobian ship Arell found himself aboard. The square-sail boats the natives used were swift, low in the water, and small. Neither did Cho Nisi have crews to man a tall ship, nor did they have a reason for such luxury. They used their watercraft for fishing, shrimping, and crabbing. They had no reason to leave the island other than harvesting seafood. The sheer magnitude of The Isabella’s size mesmerized Arell, and he found the voyage comfortable and thrilling, pacing the deck as he observed the Potamian sailors climb the ratlines, hoist the sails, and loosen the sheets. Had his body not been so broken, he, too, would climb the mast and peer out at the vast expanse of sea. Even when the stars hung low and Erika bedded down in the king’s cabin for the evening, Arell stayed on deck breathing fresh salty air, contemplating the vastness of the universe,, and anticipating on his travels.

Arell had never been off the island of Cho Nisi. He’d never seen Prasa Potama, or the empire Casdamia, nor any of the mainland. His entire world had been within the boundaries of a land mass surrounded by the Nisi Sea, an island small enough to ride a horse the entire perimeter in less than two days. A satisfactory existence for a young man, but a king needed to experience the world. How could he rule if all he ever came upon were his own footprints? He had more than the simple reasons he gave Erika for traveling with her, not that he minded being near her and meeting her father. He sought wisdom. So inept against the wiles of their enemy, Arell had learned a hard lesson after being crushed by a mountain giant, and having his soul nearly sucked out of him by Skotádi. He knew little about warfare. Erika’s father could advise him.

The ship sailed quietly, the breeze gentle. Twilight had settled over the waters and one by one stars peeked out among the deep blue of the heavens, ushering in the night. Silas approached him and stood by his side at the bow.

“This is your first time away,” he said. Arell nodded.

“You must remember.”

“Remember what?”

“Your father’s death.”

Arell groaned, as if the chief’s words pricked him and made his wounds ache. He held his torso and winced.

“I’ve forgiven her,” he said.

“Maybe you have. Your people have not. They do not want you to forget.”

Silas said nothing else, and then he walked away, leaving a darkness in Arell’s soul. Arell went below to get a blanket. He would sleep on deck.

Either pain kept him awake or his restlessness caused the steady throbbing in his chest. Whichever, Arell had little sleep. He hunkered in his blanket at the stern of the ship the next morning as they drifted into the Potamian port. He stayed clear of the rush of sailors heaving in line and dropping anchor. Maintaining his balance on the ship while crossing the sea had been painful enough. How many ribs the mountain giant broke, he couldn’t tell, but he ached despite the leather armor he wore to brace his torso. After the chief’s warning, he kept to himself during the rest of the journey, avoiding Erika, stepping away from her whenever she tried to initiate a conversation, though he did so with civility. Not that he wanted to alienate her, but the elders were watching, and he needed to keep them appeased. They were on this venture to heal Erika’s brother. Arell had overstepped his bounds, requiring such a task of them, for they continued having misgivings about the princess. Even Arell continued to struggle with his own sentiments toward Erika. As he shivered in the fog while their ship slowly drifted toward shore, Abenda stood behind him, chanting quietly.

“Is that some sort of spell you’re casting?” Arell asked the Cho Nisi elder, keeping his voice low.

“We fear for your life, Arell,” Chief Silas whispered as he lay his hand on Arell’s shoulder.

“Fear?” Arell snickered. “The Potamian wizards slew thousands of skura on our island, the princess battled Skotádi to save my life, and you’re still concerned about an assassination?”

“This trip could be a trap, Vasil,” Abenda broke off his chant. “This is how your father died. You are drawn to that woman as a blind dove is drawn to the warmth of a fox’s mouth. As your elders, we put up a spiritual fortress around you for your own good.”

Arell sighed heavily. He had enjoyed Erika’s kisses just after she had saved his life, still that may have been because his wounds weakened him and made him vulnerable. He could not deny his infatuation with her. He also could not deny that had circumstances been different, she would already be his wife. He loved her from the day they raced each other along Cho Nisi’s shore and laughed together as waves crashed over them. That love vanished when he discovered she killed his father, but in time he realized he had only repressed it just as a mountain hides its diamonds deep within.

Arell rubbed his eyes to pinch off that memory. Their love could never be, considering the circumstances. In memory of his father, and for the sake of his people, he could not now relent. He came here to face King Tobias and question him as to the Potamian kingdom’s sincerity. Cho Nisi needed their allegiance, but the elders did not trust Erika’s father. They also suspected Erika, and they didn’t trust Arell at the moment, either. Time could prove this voyage foolish, even deadly. The only rationale he could give Chief Silas was that Erika and Kairos had saved Cho Nisi from the skura attack, and by doing so, as Cho Nisi’s king, he must sign a truce with King Tobias.

“The woman murdered your father, our king, Vasil. Do not forget,” Abenda advised.

How could Arell forget? Chief Silas, and especially Abenda, would remind him daily. They watched him as an eagle guards its nest.

“Tell me, Abenda.” Arell whispered angrily. “Who is king?”

“We’re here, Arell!” Erika waved and hurried to him. She reached out for his hand, but he held the blanket closed when he stood and smiled at her cordially.

She pulled back hesitantly and frowned. “There’s a carriage waiting for us.”

He glanced at the elders and followed the princess off the gangplank, the wizard Kairos, and his apprentices at their heels.

Noises from the active wharf drowned out his ability to think. Not only had their ship arrived, but other vessels crowded the pier as well. The sound of wooden wheels droned as fish harvesters with hand-pulled vehicles full of whiting rolled by. Sailors dressed in knee high trousers, shirts unbuttoned, barefoot, called orders from another wharf. A ship’s whistle bit his ears, and the smell of fish combined with the odor of tar-treated pilings turned his stomach.

He’d never seen so many people in one place hurrying back and forth like bees in a hive. Men carried heavy loads of cargo on their backs and in carts. Other workers rolled barrels of unknown payload into the hulls of their ships. Tax collectors dressed like gentlemen with large felt hats that shaded their eyes from the sun stood at the end of the pier questioning merchants and collecting duties as the laborers sought to load their wares. A man in a red and gold uniform bowed as they approached the end of the dock and offered his arm to the princess. Kairos urged Arell and the elders to follow. The wizard and his apprentices trailed behind them.

There were, in fact, two coaches waiting amongst the traffic, the smell of horse strong as they approached. The well-matched team was larger than any Arell had ever seen. Black manes curled over their eyes and arched necks, and long bushes of hair covered their hocks. They stood two hands taller than he, their silky coats glistened in the morning sunshine. Blinders prevented Arell from looking into their eyes, and he dare not touch them, for they held themselves as if they belonged to the gods.

“Arell, come sit in this coach with me. Kairos will take the other with his apprentices,” Erika beckoned as she stepped foot into the carriage. As strong a warrior as she had proven herself to be the day she fought Skotádi to save his life, her grace and poise were every bit that of a lady. She could not be labeled a frail woman, as Arell had once imagined the daughters of King Tobias to be. She had strong bones and proved as fit as any soldier and had remarkable endurance. Her tenacity attracted him, that, and her beauty. A pity she had no status in the eyes of the elders and that the Council could not reconcile the murder of a king. That she escaped execution should be sufficient for him. Any further notions he had of a relationship with her, the elders spurned.

Gold accented the coach decor, and bore the Potamian emblem, a red and gold destrier rearing against a buckler backdrop. The coachman nodded to him as Arell stepped into the carriage and sat across from Erika. Silas and Abenda also climbed into the coach after him. Erika smiled at Arell, but he didn’t return the smile. That hurt her. He saw it in the way she frowned at him. He could do nothing but be a gentleman and wish her the best. She should be thankful he escorted her home.

“So does your father know I came with you?” He broke the silence as the coach lurched forward.

“I believe so. I sent word the night we left.”

“Then he will know I come in peace?”

“Yes, Arell. He’ll be happy for it. My father is not a cruel man. I think you’ll like him. Everyone else does.”

Arell glanced at Silas sitting next to Erika, but the elder stared out the window.

The coach rumbled along a country road and jostled them about as it bumped over dips. Arell winced and shut his eyes. Every jerk of the carriage ripped his insides as if his ribs were again splitting apart.

Such did the luxurious cart afford them an uncomfortable trip through the country and over rolling hills to the city of Prasa Potama. When they could no longer see the ocean, branches of maple trees sprung out over the road, shading them from the mid-morning sun.

“Smell that?” Erika said as she pulled back the curtain and inhaled with a smile. “It’s springtime.”

Indeed, the fragrance of magnolia and wild bluebells seeped into the carriage, snatching Arell’s melancholy and sending it out across the landscape. He hadn’t thought the mainland could be as lovely as Cho Nisi. Different in its foliage, this countryside had a beauty of its own.

“My sisters nurture the garden this time of year. Olinda especially loves flowers. I wonder if she planted Mirrorpetal yet. It’s a favorite of hers.” She leaned back into the carriage and fixed her eyes on Arell. Her gaze intense. “You know the story of Mirrorpetal, don’t you Arell?”

Arell stared at her, trying to manage the pain in his chest. He shook his head slightly.

“The goddess Eidy had a magic mirror that reflected nothing but beauty whenever anyone looked at it. She misplaced it one day and sent her son, Eroto, to find it.” Erika smiled at him.

He looked away. He had heard of the mainland’s gods from his father, but only in mention. He didn’t know their names, or their legends, and he didn’t care to. He did not believe in such fantasies. His faith had been built on Cho Nisi’s Great Spirit, giver of life who shares a portion of his magic with those who ask.

“A poor shepherd boy found the mirror, kept it, and wouldn’t give it back. The boy had never seen a mirror before and when he looked at his handsome face, he became too entranced with his own image to relinquish it.”

Arell glance back at her and raised his brow. The tone of her voice—she couldn’t be implying something, could she?

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“Eroto chased the shepherd boy through a meadow one day, trying to snatch it from him. The god became so enraged at the shepherd that he struck the boy’s hand in his haste to grab the mirror. The glass shattered into a thousand pieces. Wherever a fragment of the mirror fell, a Mirrorpetal grew.”

“An interesting story,” Arell said.

The carriage rumbled on. He tried different positions, but still his chest ached.

“My sister Rhea is in love with Kairos.”

“Yes. I had noticed,” Arell returned.

Rhea, twin to Olinda, had informed him that Erika had killed his father. He wished that day had never happened. The image of horror on Erika’s face when Arell burst into her bedchamber and confronted her would never leave him. Even now, as the sun bounced cheerfully across her rosy cheeks, illuminating her blue eyes and the copper color of her hair, the expanse between them grew wider than a canyon. The relationship remained as it ought to be—broken. Why speak of her love-gods to him?

Arell glanced again at Silas. The chief had been watching him and turned away before their eyes met. Erika caught the exchange and grimaced just as the coach slowed. She peeked outside again.

“We’re here!”

The courtyard buzzed like a honeycomb when they arrived. Arell stood idly numb, scrutinizing the activity. Stable boys, grooms, servants descending the stairs from the castle to retrieve Erika’s baggage. People bowed and curtsied. Erika’s sisters rushed out to greet her. Coachmen unloaded the carriages. Everyone went about their affairs as if this were a daily routine while Arell backed away. Silas and Abenda had found a shady alcove to hide in and with grim faces looked on. Carts carrying his belongings rolled onto the terrace, their horses less majestic than those which pulled the carriages. Arell pushed through the crowd to get his trunk, but Silas grabbed his case before he could lift it.

“Vasil, you should lift nothing in your condition.”

Arell let the chief pick up his bag, but Silas didn’t have it for long before a servant fetched it from him. The young valet bowed low. “Vasil, Princess Erika instructed me to show you to your rooms. Please, come this way.”

Arell raised his brow at the costume the valet wore. Better than any of his own doublets, with a tail longer than his dressiest. The boy led him through a hallway of marble floor and tile walls decorated with paisleys of crimson and cobalt. Statues larger than life lined the corridors. Winged beings and deities of white marble stood majestically atop carved pedestals. The god holding a lightning bolt—Vasil the king of all gods—he had heard of. They used his name as a courtesy for kings, even Moatons used the term. The other deities he did not know.

Arell took his time, not only because it hurt to walk, but because of the open doors in the hall which drew his curiosity and were vacant of guests Their patios let in warmth from the sun and fresh air. Gilded furniture, paintings on the walls, tapestries, and candelabras adorned each room. The wealth of Potamia fascinated him. So many items sparkled with gold and crystals that he found it hard to focus.

When Arell walked past one particular bedchamber with an open door, he startled a maid tending to a young red-haired man.

The maid turned and moved away so that Arell had an unobstructed view of the man in bed. A thick layer of dressing wound around his chest and though his dressing had been changed recently, whatever lesion it covered wept. Arell nodded a greeting and paused. This man looked familiar, and yet he couldn’t place where he’d seen him before.

“Arell!” Silas called. “Come.”

Arell followed the others as the maid closed the door.

The hospitality that ensued overwhelmed him—although Arell would have preferred to treaty with King Tobias directly—they had prepared a bath for him, a tour of the garden scheduled, and dinner with Erika and the king’s new Council.

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Arell entered the grand hall with the chief and Abenda, distracted by the countless articles that vied for his attention—portraits with gilded frames, the chandelier sparkling with candles, tapestries on the walls, and an array of items nesting on polished furniture too varied to identify. King Tobias occupied the head of the table and stood when Arell entered. On the king’s left sat Olinda, to his right, Erika. Kairos and Rhea were together, and the wizard’s apprentices sat with them. The Council and their wives, all dressed in rich, elaborate clothing, lingered by their chairs. To Arell’s surprise, the men bowed when Arell entered. A servant offered him a seat next to Erika.

Once settled at the table, King Tobias rose, cleared his throat, and looked directly at him.

“I am deeply grateful, Your Royal Highness, for your mercy toward my daughter. I cannot apologize enough, indeed there are no words that can express my deepest sympathy for losing your father.”

A pang of sorrow rushed through him, and Arell breathed deeply. Mention of his father had been unexpected and stung, especially while the woman who had slain him sat at his right hand. Forgiving her had been hard enough, and now he had to wrestle against his love for her. Blood flooded his cheeks. He nodded without looking at Silas or Abenda, though he could feel their stares.

“I accept your apology, Vasil.” He sat upright, regarding the lords and ladies in their lavish costumes, with their pale and polished faces, their leery looks, and their formidable speech. They exchanged glances with one another. Secrets among them and whisperings. Arell had seen castle politics before when his father invited foreign dignitaries to his halls. He had also seen frowns of prejudice like the ones before him now. Even Moatons kept a distance from the dark-skinned Cho Nisi and whispered derogatory comments behind their backs. How could Arell expect less from these people? Enough pretense. He stood and bowed to the king and then to the others at the table.

“King Tobias of Potamia, lords and ladies of the court, wizards of the highest honor, and your majesties princesses of the land. I and my elders have come from the island of Cho Nisi to offer you our unprecedented allegiance. My father died with your men-at-arms as a faithful soldier, and we have struggled through the circumstances of that death. Our grief is heavy, and yet because of my father, our nations strive to be allies. I, his son, Arell, King of Cho Nisi, now offer my hand of continued support. We come in peace.”

A heavy silence followed as Arell bowed again. They were looking at him. The women smiled flirtatiously when he took his seat.

“And I, King of Potamia, accept your offer and welcome you and your elders. I expect to have a more thorough conversation with you alone this evening,” he said.

“I would appreciate that, Vasil,” Arell agreed.

Erika spoke extraordinarily little at the table. Her gaze stayed fixed on Arell during the meal and once, when he couldn’t avoid her stare, they locked eyes and a warmth swept through him, taking him back to the short time they had loved each other. For a fleeting moment, that love welled inside of him. He frowned and looked away.

He sat silent through the rest of the dinner. Once the servants cleared the table, they served the castle’s finest wine. The king offered a toast to better days and then standing; he addressed his guests, who stood as well.

“I tire now, my friends. It is my time to converse with this young king. My thoughts cannot wait until daybreak and already the hour is late.”

The guests bowed and excused themselves.

“Good night, Arell,” Erika said.

“Fairest,” Arell bowed.

“Good night, Father. It’s good to be home.” She kissed her father on his cheek, and then hurried past Silas and Abenda, who did not leave until the valet escorted them away.

“Your Royal Highness, King of Cho Nisi, please, make yourself comfortable by the hearth.” King Tobias offered with a cordial bow when the door to the Hall had closed.

Arell accepted the flask and followed King Tobias to the fireplace where he sat comfortably on a divan stuffed with pillows of rich tapestry. A rug of delicate floral design spread out at his feet; shadows cast by flame playing with the colors of the weave. On each side of the inglenook, stone griffins boasted their marble prey, their teeth red from the firelight.

Tobias settled in a large oak chair facing the fire. With eyes fixed on the blaze, he sighed heavily and mumbled as if Arell weren’t in the room.

“I have seen many wars, with few intervals of peace. Prasa Potama has both thrived and suffered in all my years. I have faced enemies and lovers. I have laughed in bounty with superb wine and good friends, and I have cried at the loss of the woman I held most dear.”

He gazed at Arell, who straightened at this last.

“My wife. She died in labor having Erika. Did Erika tell you?”

“She made mention,” Arell said, eyeing the king briefly.

The monarch nodded and took a sip of his wine. The fire popped and ash broke through the smoke and floated up the chimney.

“Erika has spent her life trying to make up for it. Afraid that her family resents her because of it.” He looked at Arell again as if to study him, but there were no words with which Arell could respond.

“And now what she did has devastated her…” Tobias’ voice tapered.

“I know that she grieves,” Arell mumbled. The king’s familiarity made him shift in his seat. Why speak of such personal matters?

“And for you to lose your father.”

“I’m managing it best I can,” Arell assured him.

The king’s eyes rested on him a moment longer before he faced the fire again. “Men die at the hand of the enemy, and we see our subjects mourn at their graveside. Still, as kings we must order more men to their deaths.”

Arell set his flask on the table next to the couch. Why Tobias’ conversation remained on death and dying bothered Arell.

“Vasil pardon my frankness, but I’ve come explicitly to ask if our countries can once more be allies. I care not to talk of death, but of life and how we can save those we love. We have a wicked enemy that desires to see us all in our graves. I know my father held your kingdom in high esteem. When our people brought back his body to the island, I believed your soldiers assassinated him, as did the natives. We considered the murder intentional and an act of war.”

“Indeed,” Tobias muttered. “I can understand that. That’s why I wrote to you.”

“Having never met you, I still doubted your sincerity. Even with the letter. Had you not warned us about Skotádi’s mountain giants, I may still have mistrusted you.”

King Tobias looked up, surprise in his eyes. “Mountain giants?”

“Your warning, my liege. Fire. You said to fight them with fire.”

The king chuckled, “A rascal is she not?”

“Vasil?”

“Erika. I grew weary while dictating that letter to her and asked her to finish.. She struggled with it for hours, I’m told.” He took a deep breath and leaned toward Arell; his eyes sparkled with hope. “She cares for you, Arell King of Cho Nisi. I believe my daughter is in love with you.”

Arell swallowed and drew back. Color had come to the king’s cheeks and the glint in his eye mirrored his smile. Arell’s cheeks heated, and he looked away as the king went on. How daring! Arell thought

“If ever I have seen love, that girl suffers. Were you to ask for her hand, I would give it willingly.”

“Vasil,” Arell stuttered. “I cannot.”

King Tobias’ smile faded, but he remained leaning forward. “I will not live much longer. My son, as much as I hate to say, is in no condition to rule. I’m hoping your elders can save him, but even if the curse is absolved, he will need time to recover. I need an heir. Soon.”

“You have daughters.”

King Tobias fell back against his chair and fell into a coughing fit. Arell frowned, concerned. The king caught his breath, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and spat into it, pushing the kerchief back into his doublet again. He cleared his throat.

“Whereas other kingdoms and empires have queens, in Potamia it is against tradition. Women do not inherit their father’s legacy, only sons and grandsons. This world is too ugly to have fair maidens tainted by man’s sins. Our enemies would swallow any queen in Potamia, the beasts of Casdamia would devour them. If not Moshere’s empire, then surely one of the other kingdoms. Or Skotádi himself would feed on them. Prasa Potama needs a king. My daughters need to marry.”

“Your older daughters don’t have suitors?”

“None that could rule. Kairos doesn’t have the mind for it. He barely has the mind for being a wizard. I’ll not have him anywhere near the throne. He’s inept, and Rhea is too headstrong to find another beau.”

“Olinda?”

“She’s as stubborn as her twin. Felix is a good man, a fighting man. They love each other, but the boy swears he won’t marry until there is no longer a threat in Tellwater. No. Erika must find a husband.” The king looked wide-eyed at Arell. “It’s not unusual for kingdoms to join by matrimony.”

Grasping the flask from the arm table with a shaking hand, Arell took a long swallow, hoping the wine would dull his senses and settle the angst tumbling in his gut. How could he accept King Tobias’ Crown? He’d only just recently been seated on the throne of Cho Nisi and already he’d been attacked by a Vouchsaver. He barely survived that attack. Had it not been for Erika, he’d be dead, his soul floating with a phantom wizard’s vapor. He could in no way rule a kingdom as mighty as Potamia, and to marry Erika? The two hardly spoke to each other.

“I have a throne,” Arell said.

“Yes, yes, I know. But who will hold my scepter when I’m gone? With no one on the throne, an enemy could seize it. I cannot have such a thing happen to my girls. They need protection. Prasa Potama needs protection. I owe you a great debt for the death of your father. Perhaps my kingdom would satisfy that liability.”

A cold sweat formed on Arell’s brow as he studied the old man. Indeed, Tobias suffered illness. His cough raspy, his eyes bloodshot. Arell had not expected that by coming here the man would hand him the Potamian throne. What would drive a man to do such a thing? Death that lingers near? A fear that his enemies would imprison his children? Valid concerns, but Arell barely knew this man.

“Vasil, you trust me with all you own? Why?”

King Tobias chuckled, the glint in his eye still quite alive when he smiled. “When you are as old as I am, you see things less obvious to others.”

Puzzled, Arell shook his head, waiting for the king to clarify that statement.

King Tobias reached out and patted his hand. “It is an enormous responsibility, my son. Not only the kingdom, but Erika as a wife. She’s a lively but beautiful girl and though she is foolish sometimes she’ll grow out of it, I’m sure. Her heart is pure.”

“This is too sudden.”

“Sudden? Yes, it is.” King Tobias sat up and stretched. The fire flickered, casting shadows on his weary countenance. “Yet life comes at us with suddenness, and we should ever keep our guard, so that we’re flexible and ready for its thrusts. We are in a dance, young King of Cho Nisi. Our part in life is to keep time.”

They watched the fire together. Arell speechless, King Tobias nodding contently.

Arell shook his head as he contemplated the idea. He knew nothing of this land, its people, or its wars. So far from his home, he could not protect those he loved. No. He came here to ensure an allegiance between the two nations, but not to interfere with their politics. And marry Erika? His father’s assassin? Even if he consented, the Cho Nisi elders would surely be against it. Arell had his father’s crown, he needed nothing more.

Hope remained for Prasa Potama still. Barin would get well. That would solve King Tobias’ dilemma. His son would recover and rule.

Arell was about to assure him of his son’s recovery, but the king snored softly and so Arell rose and left him by the fireside.