The Lord knew his way around the palace, which Aric found strange as they followed the outer walls with their columned windows and blooming white flowerbeds on the other side. Many newcomers took in the tall arches of the palace, the view from painted windows of round, tall towers and the stone statues of past Kings in the garden. Instead, Rhal crossed the courtyard with a steady pace, across the brick stone walkways and through the great oak doors on the other side. They climbed the wide staircase into the north wing, then stepped into an even wider hallway before coming to a stop at one of the single doors waiting open for them.

The inside wasn’t as grand as the live-in noble rooms, but its extravagance only made Aric’s bones ache more at the thought of returning to the hay bed down in the serving quarters. A large bed took up most of the room, its iron base and head carved with intricate flower patterns. A fireplace sat clean and unused along the far wall, and a smooth wooden table and chair completed the space, which had already been set with a jug of water and a fruit bowl. Aric stood by the door as Lord Rhal took an apple from the bowl and bit down into it, before taking in a painting of the Goddess Vawae hung above the fireplace.

Lord Rhal sighed, his posture sagging a little at the image. ‘Why do they still pretend to worship you?’

Aric shifted nervously, taking in the picture. Vawae was maybe the most human of the gods, and the only one directly descendant from the Ancient Ones that came before. Her features changed through the generations, likened to whatever standard of beauty the Royals found desirable. This one showed her with sun-tanned skin and thick, dark hair, kneeling by a pool and placing lily pads down. White flowers were braided through her hair, and long, pointed ears curved out past her skull.

‘You must understand.’ Lord Rhal turned to face him. ‘I have no intention of touching you. Or harming you. There is no need to be afraid.’

Aric didn’t move. He’d heard that one before.

‘I actually abhor slavery in all its forms,’ Lord Rhal continued. ‘I have never let it stand in my home, not even as punishment. I do not have the power or influence to march in here and demand you all go free, but while you are in my company, you may consider yourself a free man.’

Aric didn’t move. This had to be a test of some kind. Perhaps this lord meant to test just how compliant he was willing to be. He’d lower his guard enough to let his anger free and he’d disappear with the others, or worse, be moved to the war-front. It wasn’t coercion if he begged for it over the alternative.

‘Do you know what a Mysica is, boy?’ Lord Rhal asked. Aric swallowed. Of course he knew; he wasn’t born yesterday. There were stories even around the palace of people touched by the mystic forces, though he’d never met one himself. Whether they were blessed or cursed was a debate, but Aric always considered them more myth than anything. The Ancient Ones weren’t around to touch people anymore… whatever that meant. He nodded anyway.

‘You have met one right here,’ Lord Rhal said. ‘I have the unique ability to see emotions. I see yours. Everyone. I can see it now.’

Bullshit. ‘Why tell me?’ he asked. His voice was hoarse.

Lord Rhal only shrugged. ‘I appear as a Lord, and you are a slave. Who will people believe?’

He did have a point, but Aric didn’t believe for a second that this man would openly tell him such a thing without any warning or test of loyalty. He didn’t know what it meant for this man in terms of his status, but they were a dozen a generation; it had to mean something. Yet more proof that this was a test, and a strange one at that.

‘I see anger in you, little one,’ Rhal continued. ‘There is anger in all of you… “Resei.” Bitterness. A sour hatred that’s hard to look at. Tell me I’m wrong.’

‘Do you need powers to tell you that?’ Aric asked. A bold comment to make in front of a lord, but curiosity was pulling at him. As long as he didn’t voice his hatred, there was nothing this man could do. Unless the lord planned on turning him in no matter what.

Lord Rhal only chuckled. ‘I suppose not. But it is why you stood out to me. In you the anger is unconstrained. It’s threatening to spill over in a way you can’t keep down. Even towards me, you struggle to hold back a want… a need, for violence. Does that sound predictable to you?’

Aric shifted. He didn’t want to be here. Maybe it was true, and he was talking to a man who’d come into contact with the Ancient Ones in some way. A lord with secrets was still a lord, and if he got involved in whatever intrigue nonsense was taking place, he’d end up in a worse place than the gallows. ‘If you say I am a free man here,’ Aric said. ‘Then I have right to turn away.’

Lord Rhal nodded. ‘You do. Go back to your scrubbing. I will ask the Earl for one of his… recommended slaves.’

He paused, watching Aric as though daring him to turn and run. Aric didn’t take the bait. If he ran now, this man would probably request another slave, but whether he complained while doing it wouldn’t matter. Aric had been assigned to him, and to ask for another meant that Aric wasn’t good enough. He’d face punishment either way. There was no choice in this.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

‘Apprehension,’ Lord Rhal said. ‘You do not trust me.’

Aric said nothing.

Lord Rhal sighed and pulled one of the little stools out from under the table. ‘Come, sit. Let us just talk for a while. Have some food, some water. You must be hungry.’

Aric sank into the seat, his stomach churning as Rhal filled one of the goblets with water. He was hungry, the fruit in the bowl was bright and plump and full of juices that would burst into flavour across his tongue. He didn’t want to touch them.

‘What is your name, boy?’ Lord Rhal asked. He filled another goblet then sat down across from him, lacing his hands together on the table.

‘Eraric,’ Aric mumbled.

‘Ah, a very traditional Northenders name. Do you remember it?’

Aric shook his head. ‘I was born in the palace, sir. So were my parents.’

‘Sweet Vawae, has it been that long already?’ Rhal took a sip from his goblet, and Aric traced the carvings in the rim of his own. ‘Perhaps I should have stayed home tonight. Let the trees fall where they may.’ He sighed. ‘Such a shame my people became involved in this.’

‘Who are your people?’ The question escaped before Aric could stop himself, and he wanted to shrink down into the floor and disappear.

Lord Rhal only looked amused. ‘I am from the North Kingdom. Much like you.’

‘You told the Earl you were from the east,’ Aric mumbled.

‘Oh? So I did. You are sharp witted for a… for a Resei.’

Not from the North then. Unless he was from Quwaiva, which was more of a problem. Those islanders were the reason his family was born in chains. There was something deeply wrong with this man, and Aric couldn’t place what, but his instincts were thrumming at him to run, consequences be damned.

‘My wife and I travel a lot of course,’ Lord Rhal continued. ‘My wife will arrive later. She always has stories to tell.’

‘And your sister?’ Aric asked.

Rhal raised an eyebrow. ‘Did I say she was my sister before? I must be getting senile, I can’t remember my own story.’

There wasn’t a single line or age spot marking this man’s skin. A cold chill ran down Aric’s spine. There were other stories too, not of Mysica but of creatures’ descendant from the Ancient Ones. Monsters. The Fair Folk. The Wild Ones. But no, that was stupid. He was not sitting across from a Night Creature.

‘Why come here?’ his voice escaped in a whisper. ‘Tonight, when the entire Commonwealth will be here. Your story won’t work.’

‘My boy, that’s where you come in,’ Lord Rhal said. ‘I only need to observe for now. The destruction coming down on these people is self-inflicted. It is inevitable. I came to watch more than anything.’

‘Wh-what do you need me for?’ Aric’s hands had started shaking. Nothing was worth this.

‘My aim is to carve a hole in the plan that is already in place,’ Lord Rhal said. ‘This kingdom has been carved out of war, and a war turned can lead to anarchy. With the right move, a chain of command can remain in the chaos. Tonight will be a celebration of wars won and a nation believing itself to be immortal, until those it beats down fight back. Perhaps in the midst of such revenge, there should be something no one saw coming.’

‘You make it sound like everyone is going to die,’ Aric mumbled.

‘I’m not sure if that’s true or not,’ Lord Rhal said. ‘Like I said, it is not my plan. I’m only here to observe.’

‘How can you be uninvolved but also want control?’ Aric asked. His mind spun with excuses, any excuse that would pull him away from this man. Anything slightly workable flittered away before it could become a solid thought.

Lord Rhal got to his feet then, making Aric jump, but a hand clapped down hard on his shoulder before he could follow suite. ‘How would it be if all the slaves in this place went free?’

Aric froze, his need for escape forgotten at the shock of the words. ‘You don’t have the power to do that.’

‘Not officially,’ Lord Rhal said. ‘What I’m giving you is a key. In the chaos, you can take yours and all run from the chains that keep you here. Run far enough, and anyone would believe your tithe has been paid.’

It sounded too good to be true. It was too good to be true. Nothing good would come from agreeing to this, and the more Aric turned the words over in his mind, the less it made sense. ‘If you don’t know what the plan is, then how can freeing all of us make a hole in it?’

Lord Rhal chuckled, and the man’s other hand came down on Aric’s other shoulder, squeezing them. ‘My boy, you are clever for a human. I’m impressed. The freedom of your people is not the hole, it is the payment I am giving you. You, little one, are going to be the hole in the plan.’

Aric squirmed, trying to wriggle free as Lord Rhal’s grip tightened on his shoulders. ‘No,’ he whispered. He would have nothing to do with this man. He would not be given the keys to freedom only to be in service to someone else. ‘I won’t do this. Find someone else.’

The fingers digging into his collarbones split apart then, the pale flesh breaking to give way to long, gnarled tree roots that sank deeper into his skin. Aric cried out as they stabbed deep into his shoulders, only for the noise to cut off as ice-cold breath puffed against his ear.

‘Relax, Eraric,’ Lord Rhal whispered. ‘There is nothing you need to do. Nothing more to ask of you. All you need do is survive what comes next.’

Aric screamed, in pain or for help he didn’t know, before the shadows of the room lashed out and dragged him into nothingness.