Adireal examined the book and notes on his table. "Essence of the mana-drought lily," he muttered. A vibrant, orange and red flower was pictured on one page; a map highlighting growing regions was on the other. The scattered notes referred to the plants origins and uses.
The lily was grown on the other side of the world, in the far off Endrahnt Confederacy. A group of five states led by family houses, their government was not entirely unlike the Elveen nation. The poison made from mana-drought lilies was only one of many horrible, dangerous, and horribly expensive exports the Confederacy made. Its effects were immediate and long-lasting: Total disruption of mana within a person's body.
It was an alchemical breed, something nature had never intended, and the poison typically was exported to the much closer mage-nation of Facsora. Adireal vaguely remembered that magical ability determined your social status in Facsora, so it made sense that the poison was always in high-demand. Humans always fell to bickering, and as a people they were constantly trying to increase their rank and status.
Adireal peered at the image again, and shook his head. The cost to have had the poison brought here had to have been astronomical.
Adireal snapped the book shut, before tossing it down on to the table. With a sigh, he gently flopped down into his bed. He propped his arm with his pillows, trying to keep his shoulder comfortable. "Bored," Adireal muttered. "Bored, bored, bored, BORED!" Talking to himself was becoming a new thing.
It had already been two weeks since the Naming and Ysbella STILL wouldn't let him out of his room. He had all of his study materials, his history books, and whatever learning materials his father and Ysbella felt were necessary. He was to spend as much time in bed as possible, and as much time resting as possible. It precluded him from anything exciting. Anything FUN.
His thoughts turned frequently to the assassination, and Adireal had to wonder--who had sent the mage? Who had the means and the money for such an endeavor? The humans to the south called themselves the Empire of Til, and they hated all things magical. They were a likely candidate, except that it had been a mage. The Kingdom of Faost was west of the Eternal Woods and they typically kept to themselves. Though they didn't hate magic, and the Elveen were not currently warring with the Faostians, their military had been growing in number and the postings along the border were rapidly increasing. The land that both human nations occupied had been "liberated" from his own people. He winced and massaged his temples; this was not the sort of history he liked reading about. The majority of Elveen history had been about hunting darkness, destroying monsters, and victory over evil. Whenever he had to hear about modern history or current events, Adireal could only feel sadness.
Sighing again, Adireal turned his mind to another painful topic, one that he found himself often contemplating in his copius free time. Who had visited him after the assassination attempt while he was bed-bound? He had fleeting memories of people crowding around him and his name being called, but that had to have been right after the assassination. Then, he had memories of Ysbella holding him; and after that? Nothing. Ysbella had told him that he had walked along the lands of death for some time, and for three days they thought him dead.
By most accounts there should have been some memory of the experience. At least, that was what happened in the stories Adireal read.
He rubbed a claw on his bedpost gently, carving small chunks of wood out; Adireal had been so bored that he started to replicate a picture from one of his history books. The scene was an old painting of the King’s castle overlooking the Forgotten Woods, and although it wasn't very good, it passed the time, and helped clear his mind.
Shaking his head, Adireal gathered his thoughts and tried to focus on his memories. Most people saw a light, or floated in darkness, or met their ancestors. For Adireal there was nothing between a faint memory of Ysbella holding him before falling into darkness, and another of her crying over him when he awoke. He almost felt robbed; it would have been wonderful to have met Darksbanes of legend, like Delin the Drakkan Slayer, or Gerald the Kinslayer. It would have been even better to have met his mother.
Adireal grunted and swung his claws at his bedpost, rending the image with long furrows. A half dozen tears squeezed out from his eyes as he grunted and doubled over. His wounded shoulder still ached, and as much as he hated to admit it, it was probably best that he was confined. “This has to have been my worst birthday ever,” moaned Adireal. He slid off the bed, careful not to move his arm again, and shuffled over to his chair facing the window. He already knew better than to try and stretch his wings; he made that mistake on his second day locked in his room, and the pain drove him into unconsciousness.
Ysbella had been in to see him daily, and often several times a day. She changed his bandages and reapplied the poultices; in fact, she was the one who found him on the floor after he had passed out from pain. The poison kept her from mending the wound, even with her considerable power. Adireal was grateful Ysbella checked on him throughout the day, especially since more often than not she was the only person who visited. Sometimes servants brought food by; they always quickly left. Adireal felt abandoned. Worse yet, the boredom was doing a better job of killing him than the poison.
Even while occupied with staring out his window, he was attentive enough to hear his door push open. He could hear them struggle with its weight, so it couldn't be Ysbella. That meant could only mean it was a servant.
It was already after lunch, and Ysbella had been here recently enough. Besides, Adireal was in no mood to deal with people who weren't going to talk to him or look him in the eye. Slouching into his chair, Adireal muttered to his visitor. “My bandage got changed an hour or so ago. It doesn’t need to be changed yet. Can’t I just--”
“THE HEIR HAS COME TO PAY A VISIT TO THE YOUNG PRINCE OF THE FORGOTTEN WOODS! PLEASE RISE AND SHOW LORD ADONIS THE RESPECT HE DESERVES!”
Adireal stumbled to his feet, gasping when he bumped his arm against the chair. Clutching his shoulder, Adireal turned in time to see the two guards bow and step aside from the door, allowing Adonis, The Heir, to enter. Something was different; Adonis was dressed in fine silks rather than his normal clothing. Immaculate, standing straight as a board, his fineries shimmered and caught the light from the lone window. As Adonis glanced about the room, turning his nose up and sniffing indignantly, Adireal realized that the clothing was far from the only thing to have changed.
“Sammal, when next we meet with Lady Ysbella, remind me that we must discuss how the future Crowned Prince lives. His lifestyle reflects upon myself, and, to a much greater extent, the whole of our people. Such drab accommodations denote his lack of care for himself, and quite possibly for our people at large.” Adonis glanced at Adireal and sighed. “His apparel is appalling. Though I forgive him for his personal appearance, his lack of manners and presence is far harder to cope with.”
“A-Adon-my my Lord,” Adireal stammered, “I-it is a pleasure to see you bro-”
The Heir hissed and growled a reply. “There is no pleasure in this visit, Adireal. I am serving my duty here today, visiting the . . . man . . . who saved my life. You should understand though, that saving me was a task that any lowly servant would have been grateful to fulfill for their true King. Even if I am still only the Heir as of yet.” Adonis spoke with his mouth pulled into a snarl; his eyes locked with Adireal’s and shone with an intensity that Adonis had not possessed weeks ago.
Adireal looked at his brother, slack-jawed, unable to find any words to speak.
“In fact, We have far more important matters to attend to. Especially considering that you fail to acknowledge your station and show me the adoration I deserve. I shall bid you good day, though I find the pleasantry hard to say sincerely.” Adonis looked away, sniffing slightly as he waved his hand to dismiss Adireal. “Sammal, B’narei; attend me.”
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The two guards bowed to their master and rushed to the hall to guarantee their master’s safety. Adireal still gaped, unsure if he was angry or saddened by his brother’s display. He fought to keep his claws sheathed, digging his fingers into his arms to hide them in case his anger bested him. “Adonis--”
Adonis was mid stride, walking for the door when Adireal called to him. He spun on his heel, took a step towards his brother, and slammed his fist into Adireal’s cheekbone. Adireal stumbled for a moment, catching himself with his wounded arm. Gasping in pain, he dug his claws into the stone floor and wall to help regain his balance; Adonis stood with a smirk and his hand poised on his hip.
“It would do you well to remember that I am your master now, Adireal. The title of Heir is a farce; soon enough I will be King. You will address me as Lord Adonis, or your Lordship and your flagrant disrespect shall not be tolerated. Next time I will have you lashed, perhaps even publicly. That way, at least, you would serve as a reminder that no one is above my station. Do you understand?”
Adireal lurched to his feet, refusing to look at his brother.
“I asked if you understood me. Are you truly as much of a beast as it is said?”
Adireal dug his claws into his thighs and growled back to Adonis. “I understand, your Lordship.”
“Excellent. If our Grandfather were not so busy, I would ask him to counsel you on your behaviour. You could stand some proper tutelage, rather than the drivel that ostentatious fairy teaches you. Good day to you, my loyal servant. I shall call upon you when I find that I have need of you.” Again Adonis turned on his heel, and strode out the door.
The guards quickly began to close Adireal’s chamber door, though, like many of the servants, they struggled to pull it closed. Before the door thudded into its frame, Adireal could hear whispering in the hall.
“Grandfather, did I do well?”
Adireal could hear Ranvaas chuckle before whispering back. “You will make a fine king one day, Adonis. Strong of hand and heart; exactly what our people need. Your father could have done much--”
Behind the closed door, Adireal unclenched his hands and stumbled towards his wash basin to rinse the blood from his claws and thighs. The water slowly turned a reddish hue as he rinsed his washrag. Adireal lifted his gaze to the mirror, grunting at what he saw. His eyes were red, and the skin under the scales covering his cheek had already begun to swell. Adireal gingerly brushed one cheek, and then the other, as he stared into the mirror.
“I hate him,” Adireal sobbed, as his tears began to fall into the basin.
* * * * * * *
“Adireal. Adireal! You should be in bed! What are you doing over--WHY ARE YOU COVERED IN BLOOD?”
Adireal grunted and shook his head. His right eye had swollen shut and his left was puffy from the tears he had shed.
“It’s nuffin’,” Adireal mumbled. His tongue was like a piece of cloth in his mouth, and almost as functional. He stepped backwards and slid to the floor as his legs buckled under his full weight. He fell onto his right side, slamming his shoulder into the ground and pain seared throughout the entirety of his body; not only did his shoulder and thighs burn, his eye and temple throbbed, pulsing with wave after wave of pain.
The world spun as Adireal attempted to push himself up. He felt a hand clasp his back and steady his body. Ysbella had bent over and was examining him more closely.
“Unnnngh. . .” the angel muttered. “You have torn your shoulder open again. This is going to add weeks to the healing process; what happened to your face and legs? Did you pass out in the basin and hit your eye? How did--”
“IT’S NUFFIN’!” Adireal’s face contorted from the pain, his voice raising to a loud growl.
The angel snorted. “Yes, Adireal; I can see that it is nothing. Blood on the floor, in the basin, soaking your clothes. I know you have survived worse wounds, however your body is weak right now.” She scooped Adireal up with her free arm and carried him over to the bed. “I suppose I will get to work on the stitches.”
As she lay him upon his mattress, Adireal bit his lip and stared at the stone wall. He could hear her gather her healing tools; metal clanked upon metal and the scent of pungent herbs wafted in the air. She always kept medical supplies in a cabinet, ever since he tried to sneak out and fly on his own. After falling into the forest and impaling his shoulder upon a large branch, Ysbella made sure that she could treat his injuries wherever she went.
She gave him a drink of water and then went to work. He felt cold metal press against his bare flesh as Ysbella cut away the blood soaked cloth. Contrary to what many of the servants believed, the entirety of his body was not scaled; the scales covered his face and throat, forearms and hands, his legs below his knees along with his feet, and his chest and back. Adireal's upper arms, sides, belly and thighs were all flesh.
Ysbella sloshed water from a bowl onto some of the cloth, allowing her to easily peel it away from the skin it had dried to. The wet cloth made a flopping sound as it landed on the stone and Adireal held his breath and dug his claws into his bedding.
"Found the wound. Pretty small this time thankfully, but my magic still can not heal it. Let me wash away the caked blood and I will stitch it . . . Wait."
Adireal expelled his breath, knowing Ysbella had figured out what caused his wounds. He heard a rustling; the angel had flexed her wings. Adireal had heard that sound a million times, at least, and it meant Ysbella was angry, or disappointed. Adireal grunted as she scrubbed his thigh harshly.
"As I thought. Five wounds."
Ysbella made a small cut into his other pant leg, and, without soaking it, ripped the cloth away. She took hair, and possibly a small amount of skin, with the bloody cloth, causing Adireal to grunt again. She scrubbed his left thigh harder than his right; without having let the dried blood soak first, it was far harder to clean. She worked in silence, something Adireal was slightly thankful for. He continued to face the wall, though he squeezed his eyes shut. After several moments of scrubbing, he heard the small brush hit the floor.
“The wounds are bleeding again,” Ysbella said in a calm, detached voice. “Do you want me to try and stitch them, or would you prefer the iron?”
Adireal gritted his teeth and quickly answered, otherwise she would decide for him. “Stitches--please. No need for us,” he took a deep breath and gritted his teeth, “to smell burnt flesh today.”
“Fine.”
He felt the needle prick his flesh and began to slow his breathing. Forcing himself to relax helped with the pain, to an extent.
“Hold still,” Ysbella muttered, gripping his leg tightly. “Continue to breathe but quit moving your leg or, by the Gods, I will heat up the iron and take care of this the quick way.”
Adireal tried to lay still and keep his leg relaxed; it took all of his focus. Soon enough he felt a hand shaking his hip. He had zoned out for a moment, and when he rolled over, Ysbella seemed madder than before.
“--said, are you listening to me?”
Adireal looked up and nodded. “Sorry, I was a bit focused and--”
“I asked, ‘Why did you hurt yourself?’ The poison keeps your body from functioning properly; your wounds don’t heal, your blood is slow to clot, you bruise easily. By the Gods, if you didn’t have Drakkan blood coursing through veins you would have died when Adonis was Named, not merely go comatose for three days. If I hadn’t found you passed out in your room, again, you might have died. Is that what you want, Adireal?”
“N-no, but you don’t un-,” Adireal stuttered in response, his claws digging deeper into the bed. This was it, she had taken care of him and it was time for her ire.
“What possessed you then? Is this some new game?”
Tears formed in his eyes. “A-Adon-um, his Lordsh-ship came and he t-talked to me and--”
Ysbella began to toss her tools back into her bag, each one clanging as it struck stone through the cloth or pinged off of another tool. “You should be happy that Adonis visited you, not try to blame him for this. Frankly, I think we need to--”
Adireal thrashed in the bed, throwing his head back and forth, tears flowing down his cheeks as he yelled out his reply. “HE HIT ME!” Sobbing, Adireal gasped and struggled to finish telling her about the visit. “H-he told me wh-what a failure I was and how ugly I was and then he a-and Ranvaas laughed about it in the hall.” Adireal grabbed her arm and pulled himself to it and sobbed louder. “I-I wanted to hit him back so hard Ys, b-but I put my claws where th-they couldn’t hurt him. ‘Ca-cause if I hit him,” Adireal lifted his head and looked into her eyes and whispered, “If I hit him, I would have killed him like that other man.”
Ysbella ran a hand through his hair and sighed. She softly caressed his cheek and lifted his chin up, studying his face. Gently, she touched the swelling around his eye.
“I thought you had struck your face on the washbasin. Adonis did this to you?”
Adireal bit his lip and nodded in affirmation.
Ysbella peered towards the door and then leaned in close to Adireal. “I-I will have to think about this.” She leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Let me change your poultice and you can get some rest.”
Both paused for a moment when a loud grumbling sound erupted.
“Ysbella, I, um, I am kind of hungry. I think I must have missed dinner?”
Ysbella smiled at Adireal. “I will get you something to eat soon then, my prince.” She pulled her herb satchel out again, along with a mortar and pestle, and began to grind a variety of herbs. With a few short pours of water, the dry mix quickly became a noxious paste. Adireal knew from experience that though this stuff smelled horrible, it would dull his pain and promote his healing.
Ysbella paused as she smeared the concoction onto a new bandage. “I’m sorry I was so gruff with you.” Adireal noticed that she had turned away from him so he could not see her face; she must have forgotten how sharp his eyesight was though. Silvery streaks caught the faint moonlight from the window as they fell toward the floor. “I will talk with your father about this.”
“Do you think that will help Ys?”
The angel shook her head. “I don’t know Adireal, but I must be careful. There are rules regarding my presence, and I must obey them. However, I do not wish to sit idly by while something like this happens. Remember Adireal,” Ysbella turned towards him and took his hands, “Remember that Adonis will be King. It is your job to protect him as his Crowned Prince, though not just physically. And Adireal?”
“Yes Ysbe--,” Adireal’s reply was cut short by another loud rumbling. Ysbella let his hand slip from hers and laughed.
“Oh, oh my little Prince. . . I will go get you your food now, okay?”
Adireal nodded and watched as she turned and walked towards the door.
“And Adireal?” Ysbella’s voice dropped to a hushed whisper as she stopped a stride-length from the door. “I was afraid I lost you once already. P-please, don’t leave me yet. I want to hold on to you as long as I can.” Turning, she wiped a tear from her eye and grinned. “So. I believe they had goose for dinner tonight, if that is acceptable? Maybe cheeses and fruits?”
Adireal simply nodded, too shocked to speak.
Ysbella closed the door softly behind her, the only other person in the castle besides Adireal who could accomplish the task by themselves, and Adireal could hear her faint whisper in the hall.
“I warned the fool not to let that bastard near his child.”