Square and rigid buildings took shape around us, but they were unlike the skyscrapers of Altheer; these buildings were more intricate, their brick carved with images of dire beasts and painted in brightly coloured paints that glowed as night fell. The streets were made of cobblestone of various colours, built wide and mostly in straight lines, and where they turned the angles rigid, never smooth; in the wider streets, there were door-less gates most made of stone — simpler in design and carved with sigils or long serpents and other monsters — but some made of red wood and with a Japanese styling I’d seen on my world, these leading to temples or their smaller kin with different statues under them, either people or a lizard.
The Sunward Empire had more of an Asian influence than the parts of Althor I’d travelled, and with the City of Laurent being so close to their neighbours it made sense that there would be more diversity here than there had been in a place like Altheer. I’d spotted a person who might have been mixed in the distance, they were so light skinned they looked close to white, but the features were ones my mind mentally catalogued as black — did they consider themselves black, or (as was likely the case) were they the product of a sailor coming in and then leaving shortly after?
At the foot of Lake Gris was a massive structure: a grand gate with different levels to it, made from stone with two serpents carved into it, snaking their way up to the top where two massive heads grimaced at the lake’s waters.
“The Gates of Momono,” Matthaeus explained. The inns closest to the lake were the cheapest, with their patrons being sailors from the Sunward Empire and a few who came from the Sky Cities. The Truant Prince and I were on the roof, enjoying a night that was a little on the cold side, with a crisp wind coming in from the mountains, pushing away the stink of so many people in close proximity. “Goddess of the wind and good fortunes. So long as she could, she vowed that she would watch over the travellers of this city.”
“Is that why the Gates are so tall?” I asked, because the structure was at least fifty stories, and even with the low light I could see celestial gems worked into the scales of the snakes so they could be better hidden.
Matthaeus gave a short nod. “The buildings are not to the grandeur of the City of Altheer,” he said, “but they have been rising in height as time has gone on, especially when spatial mages eventually built a hub in the city. The gates have had to grow to ensure that the goddess could watch over its people because they still favour trade by way of the lake.”
“Why?” I asked. “Teleportation is more convenient and it has to be a lot lower in cost.”
“I suspect that the greater world is starting to fear the power that the spatial mages have,” he said. “Not to mention that both of the largest orders — those in Althor and Washerton — have faced a change in their governing structures that have impeded travels in many ways.”
I nodded, silently musing on his words as I watched the base of the Gates. The area was lit and I could see people there, most of them men in heated conversation — the group had been like that for a while. One of them moved, starting to scale up the thick obelisk, doing quick work of it too.
“Trials to become men,” Matthaeus said, as if reading my thoughts. “They seek blessings from their goddess.”
“Cool,” I said.
“Ah, there it is,” the man said, a smile in his voice. I looked up.
My heart leapt, sparking a joy so bright it eviscerated the anxiety I felt for the coming meeting. Up in the air, lit by the moon and a few luminous gems, was a ship of wood with its sails open, catching the wind — an airship from the Sky Cities, flying low to dock and pick up supplies.
As many differences as we had in our outlooks, it was hard to dislike Matthaeus when he could be like this. During the final leg of our journey he’d made a point of having us slow so that I could see anything he thought I might have not seen in the previous world, just so I had the opportunity to enjoy this world and didn’t become overburdened as he had.
When Odysseus and Allyceus had spoken of their brother, I had seen a reluctance at staying angry, and this was probably the reason why. Matthaeus cared about people in a way that could be surprising, going out of his way to make sure they were happy.
Which is probably why it was surprising when he just disappeared with no explanation.
“Are they anything like the airships of your home?” he asked, breaking me from my thoughts.
I shook my head. “Those are bigger, longer and louder,” I told him. “And they wouldn’t be able to drift to a slow landing like that. I’ve never been in one, or seen them up close. Only on television.”
“The magic puppet boxes?” he said and I nodded. “If Rowan succeeds, then there might be a union between our worlds. It might be possible that I might see the wonders that you speak of.”
My lips pressed together, discomfort passing through my expression as I watched the flying ship hit the lake at an angle and glide across its surface. Matthaeus hadn’t missed the shift in my expression.
“Do you fear that we would so ruin your world that you do not look forward to the possibility?” he asked.
“No,” I said quickly. “No. It’s just…you know how I get angry at all the stuff that’s happening here? Like people in power only looking out for themselves instead of the majority? How I don’t like kings and queens as an institution?” He nodded. “It’s because all those things have happened in my world and we’re still dealing with their ramifications. I just happen to be one of the groups most affected. People…they can be stupid, and I’m worried about them doing something stupid if something like that were ever to happen.”
“Do you think Rowan should be stopped, then?” he asked, a gentle interest in his tone. “That his endeavour might bring ruin between the two worlds?”
I shrugged. “I really don’t know. But I guess I’m pessimistic.”
“Does that same pessimism extend to what we’re trying to do?” he asked. The question was pointed and a little uncomfortable when I had to balance my own reluctance with what Matthaeus would be getting out of this meeting. I really wanted this to work, but I didn’t think they would.
With a sigh, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a slightly bent letter from Odysseus, received about an hour past. Matthaeus took it and his expression grew gloomy as his eyes ran over it. The letter wasn’t a long one, but its tone was unmistakable:
Your manipulations are base, Jordan, but it seems my options are limited. What are your terms?
“He’s still angry,” I said, stating the obvious. “That’ll colour things.”
“It will have to be enough,” said Matthaeus. “Draft the letter of terms, send one to Odysseus and another to the Urocy of the Briarpatch Dens. It is important that they agree or we cannot meet.”
“I’m still apprehensive about this,” I said. “And maybe that’s my pessimism. Your father—”
“Knows what is at stake,” said Matthaeus. “And if he does not know, then Mother will remind him. We will be safe — using the very systems that ensure Father’s power against him. And if all else fails, I have my hammer and you your pistol.”
“Not making me feel better, there, guy,” I muttered under my breath.
The terms of the meeting were simple: we would meet under a party known to both of us, Duke Surefoot of the Briarpatch Dens, in his ancestral home of the Briarpatch Dens; each party would only be allowed five; Odysseus and Allyceus were expected, but there could be none above them in standing, station or esteem — thus barring the attendance of the king, queen or any uncles or aunts that might be able to out manoeuvre us; and finally an allowance for the knights Alfred Barnaby and Eleus Mandaron — an attempt to make it more likely that the king would send his children.
A moment after I’d sent the letter, the return had come: Acceptable, Odysseus wrote. We shall meet in two days.
Which didn’t help with the feelings of unease I felt bubbling in my stomach. I bit my lip, holding a quill over the bottle where the ink dripped. Long seconds passed where I considered asking him point-blank if this was a trap, if he would throw decorum to the wayside in order to make me hurt as much as I’d hurt him, but doing so would be showing weakness and I needed to show strength.
Maybe he wants closure just as you do, I thought, giving me a feeble amount of hope that this wouldn’t all go wrong.
Clyde noticed, and though he didn’t say anything, he looked like a man preparing to go into the slaughter. I wished I could help him, but as the days crawled, as a city that should have been exciting became dull and colourless, there was nothing to do but wait.
The relief of finally standing in a sectioned off room with a spatial mage before us, a spatial obelisk that was ten storeys tall, with the man before it. Surya was the first to leave, disappearing with a ripple of the air and a loud sigh that echoed ominously in the aftermath. The Urocy had set a letter of agreement, but we wanted an upfront and honest answer of safety and neutrality from the Urocy which would serve as greater protection.
This, Matthaeus had explained, would also be important because the memory would be shared as the Urocy did to communicate. Meaning that the lie, if one were told, would be heavy in the minds of those that follow, a shame that was likely to live on forever.
Long minutes passed and I distracted myself instead of fixating on logistics.
As I understood it, the smaller obelisks were used to interface with the much larger one, meaning there wouldn’t be as large a strain as had been the case with the spatial mage who’d smuggled Jaslynn and me out of Glimmerwood. Part of the entire thing working was communication between the hubs, so that travel could be scheduled and certain rooms reserved as entry or exit points — thankfully, the spatial hub that went directly into the Briarpatch Dens wasn’t often used, which made the scheduling easier.
Surya appeared, his expression grim and his eyes hard. He gave a short nod.
I let out a long breath and my nod was the one that made the mage transport all of us, turning the room around us into dark points that changed in shape until they revealed another room, tall and round, dominated by a spatial obelisk and at its foot, waiting for us, was Surefoot and two other Urocy.
***
“Greetings, guests,” Surefoot started and once more I had to keep my mind from falling back on old habits — in front of me was a talking fox, and after so long without seeing Surefoot, it felt odd again. I wanted to stare, to decipher how his mouth opened and closed, yet the words that escaped didn’t match the movements.
I leaned on the temporal ring to give myself room to get my freak out of the way, but when that didn’t work I cast my mind out, getting a sense of our surroundings using my spatial sense. It was surprising how few people — human or Urocy — were in this place; there were eight other humans, clustered together in a group at the far end of the compound and twenty Urocy split into two groups, roosting in the walls, floor and ceiling.
“It is a great pleasure to welcome you into my ancestral dens,” Surefoot continued, and the words felt strange when I’d thought of dens as more lively places. My range was set at its maximum and I filtered it so it only picked up the Urocy, there were none, save those who were here to protect Surefoot and the two Urocy standing with him.
“You honour us with the welcome,” Matthaeus returned, his voice low and emotionless. He shifted, moving his hammer from his shoulder to the floor; a mute bang reverberated as a large chunk of metal hit the ground, casting off vibrations that flowed into the walls and floor. “And indeed we are grateful to your family for allowing this meeting.”
Matthaeus leaned against the hammer, something that felt like a subtle threat. I turned my mind to the weapons I had at my disposal — cataloguing them so they would be in easy reach if things went south; at Surya who carried his spear at his side and whose expression was hard and rigid; and Hatim who wore a mix of leather and pelt, diagrams carved into the leather, but none bearing any celestial stones.
As counter intuitive as it seemed, it was better that everyone had their weapons; mages could use the smallest gems as a source of power and those were hard to search for, so to even the playing field and ensure a sense of mutually assured destruction, everyone was allowed the ability to protect themselves.
But sometimes not the ability, I thought, because if a fight sprung up, I was more likely to be a hindrance than help.
“It is as your letter said,” Surefoot explained. “It will bring great esteem to the dens if these proceedings are successful.”
“I sense a heaviness in the word if,” said Matthaeus. “Are there signs things might not go well?”
“You humans are a highly emotional folk,” the Urocy to Surefoot’s left said, they were short and stocky, with dark grey fur and almost glowing gold eyes; around their neck and legs was jewellery studded with spatial gems. “If anything will disturb matters, it is your kind.”
“Peace, brother,” said the other fox, their voice sweet and whispery. Their fur was a dark brown with streaks of grey, they were the tallest of the trio and there was something keen in their dark eyes. “Such harsh words are unneeded.”
“Champion,” Surefoot cut in, his voice tightly restrained. “It is good to see you again.”
I swallowed. “Is it?” I asked. “Good?”
The Urocy to the left snorted. “Do you doubt my brother’s words, human?” he said.
“He does not,” Surefoot said, the words quick but calm. “He is human, brother, you have to remember their customs and peculiarities. There is meaning to the words, to the repeated statements. The Champion and I did not leave on the best of terms, now he is surprised that some part of me is gladdened by his presence here.”
“Um…yeah,” I said. “That.”
“As much as I hold memories of human customs,” said the sweet-voiced fox. “They are something else entirely to behold. I find myself having to withhold a great many impulses the memories did not possess.”
“Introductions are appropriate before we are to begin,” said Surefoot. “To my left is my brother, Lowgrowl, Martial Guardsman of the Dens.”
“Graciously met,” Lowgrowl said, giving a short nod. There was something hard in his eyes, piercing and suspicious as his eyes ran over each of us then our weapons.
“And to my right stands my sister, Mellowwind, Spiritual Guardsman of the Dens.”
“It is a pleasure to make my own memories of you,” said Mellowwind, her gaze keen and different from both of her brothers.
“Well met,” I said with a slight bow.
“In our company,” Matthaeus started, when I stalled, “is Surya, the Auburn Winged, Former Falconer of the Sky Cites; Hatim, Keeper of a Blighted Horse and Master Thief; and finally Clyde, Chief of the Unnamed Settlement.”
“Greetings, Urocy lords,” Clyde said, a tremor in his voice as he bowed.
I glanced in his direction and saw wide, scared eyes — a feeling that also ran through me to some degree.
Remember why you’re doing this, I thought, taking a deep breath and letting it out. This was about making sure that the people of the settlement got a good deal, which meant being willing to step in and speak for them if Clyde couldn’t. Right now — with everything I was feeling — I didn’t think I’d do a good job and I needed to get over myself.
“Have the princes arrived yet?” I asked, pushing confidence into my voice while reciting all of my successes in my head. Being close to them, my own bravery felt slippery, the word coward intrusively pushing itself into my head.
“Princes?” said Lowgrowl, shooting a confused glance at his brother.
I’d outed Allyceus, hadn’t I? He had told his friends about his identity, but that didn’t mean the rest of the world knew. Did that mean Surefoot knew and his family didn’t, and if so, how?
“Odysseus and Ally,” I said, aware that if I stayed silent too long I would be leaving an awkward empty space in the conversation. “As much as I want this moment to last, Duke Surefoot, I feel like what we’re set to do here is more important and I’d if things moved along.”
“Quite,” Matthaeus added, taking his hammer and shrugging it on his shoulder, a motion that should have been awkward with us so closely clustered together, but he managed to do it smoothly.
“They have arrived, yes,” said Surefoot, unfazed by the movement of an artefact that could bring down our surroundings with ease. “They are mentally preparing themselves for the proceedings.”
“And what of Father and Mother?” Matthaeus asked.
“Your guard, Falconer Surya, already asked us of the terms,” said Lowgrowl, the words short and irritated. “We answered him. The King of Althor, his wife and his kin are not in the Briarpatch Dens. Do you doubt our word?”
“We have to take precautions,” Matthaeus said. “Surely you understand, do you not? After all, you are still vassals of my father, and the Champion and I, at present, are his enemies.”
“Even so, we follow the old ways,” said Mellowwind. “To lie would bring a great shame over our dens, one that would be carried far longer than humanity can even imagine.”
“Even so,” Matthaeus insisted, “the question has been asked and I would appreciate an answer.”
“I was party to the conversation with the king,” said Surefoot. “On his word he said he would leave things be.”
“Did you believe him?” I asked. Surefoot hesitated and my heart started hammering in my chest. I swallowed. “If you can’t ensure our safety and that we’ll make it out of here unaccosted, then I think it’s best we leave now.”
“The Urocy have an advanced understanding of temporal and earthen magic,” Surefoot said, a non-sequitur that rang with familiarity.
I tapped into the power of the temporal ring, reminding myself that Surefoot had a better memory than I did and it was possible that he was reaching for a conversation between us. What had we talked about? The persecution of the Urocy and its similarities to things I’d seen in my world; and how people used narratives of the divine to justify the persecution of others. Then I’d asked him if things were better and he’d responded with the same words.
Why does that sound like a threat? I’d asked.
“Okay,” I said.
Surefoot nodded. “Then we should take you to a room so that you might mentally prepare yourselves before matters are set to begin,” he said. “If you would follow me.”
The doors out of the teleportation room were dotted with gravity gems and they opened as we approached. We walked into a tall hallway filled with art of a different sort than I was used to on this world, with the very rock worked to form pictures, and the entire thing was made more enthralling because luminous gems had been used instead of paint.
We were underground, but as was the custom for spaces on this world, luminous gems were used to give off the feeling of sunlight, while fire and air gems worked together to form the optimum temperature.
Something felt off about the space, seeing the tall plinths with Urocy figures or human busts on them, the large, ostentatious doors, or how the art was tall and not in any way suited for the Urocy to enjoy. All of it in addition to the fact that I couldn’t sense any Urocy that weren’t military.
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“Are we in a human wing or something?” I asked, gesturing around me. My access to a spatial marble was something I wanted to keep in my back pocket, even with how close it felt to lying. “This doesn’t feel right.”
Mellowwind let out a surprised laugh. “Oh, I think I see why you like him now, brother,” she said. “Not many notice, Champion, but yes, this is a wing largely used when we have human guests.”
“But take no offence that you have not been invited into the true dens,” said Surefoot. “For one, you would have to crawl as you moved through their halls. And some of you are so large that I do not think you would be able to fight through them.”
Matthaeus snorted. “Are you calling me fat, Duke Surefoot?” he said, terse humour finding his voice.
“Indirectly, yes,” Surefoot admitted.
In the distance I felt as people moved, stopping so they were directly ahead of us, but still so far away we couldn’t see them.
“The knights Eleus and Alfred have left their room,” Lowgrowl muttered, his voice low.
I really have to learn how to do that, I thought. When I’d been in the castle practising spatial magic had been a lifeline, but I’d eased my studies and turned my attention to the settlement and its success.
“Then perhaps one of these rooms will do,” said Surefoot. He neared a door and it slid open, revealing a living room set up at the back of which were three doors; food had been put out and through temporal magic on the table, they had been stalled to keep them fresh. “You’ll find refreshments on the table and a room to freshen up at the back of the room. I shall tell Odysseus and Ally of your arrival. We shall begin soon.”
The muffled bang of the doors as they closed felt ominous.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Hatim muttered, taking in our surroundings. He crossed the room and opened each of the doors, one led to an empty study, another to a bedroom and the last into a bathroom. “No doors and no windows. No escape.”
Surya hummed, his expression creased with worry. “I am a person of the skies,” he said, his wings opened and flapped, producing a large burst of wind that stirred at dust. “As high as these ceilings are, they will impede my ability to fight.”
“Hopefully there shall be no fighting,” said Matthaeus.
“Hopefully,” I said. “How are you doing, Clyde?”
“We won’t think any less of you for being intimidated by all of this,” Hatim added.
The man swallowed. “This is the first time I have been in the company of the Urocy,” he said, a slight tremor in his voice. “They look very much like the common fox. It’s disconcerting.”
“At least you didn’t stare like I did the first time I met Surefoot,” I said, putting on a jokey air. Clyde didn’t buy it. He was too tense. Surefoot had given me a sense that he would work on our side, but…was it so wrong to doubt those words when the king could bring a lot of resources to bear? “You’re doing good. Just a talk and then this is over.”
I kept track of Surefoot as he stopped in front of the knights, one of them entered the room with the others and they exited out onto the halls. They stopped, likely sharing conversation.
“They brought eight people,” I said. “I don’t know who they are, but at a guess it will be Odysseus, Ally, his ladies-in-waiting and the knights.”
Matthaeus shook his head. “We allowed them the ability to bring three people into the talks,” he said. “It would be a great honour to participate in the talks, a tool that could be used to further alliances. It would not go unused. I suspect that one of them is a lord or the son of a lord.”
“Then one of the knights as a protector?” I said.
“Father would not trust Ally’s friends to protect him, skilled warriors though they might be,” he said. “One of them is not a part of the company, and I think it is obvious who it might be.”
Cybill. She was an outsider and with Ally being engaged to Owain Jr, she would be in the way of their relationship.
“That’s going to colour things,” I muttered.
“Then we will have to be calm where they are impassioned,” said Matthaeus. “Get them to see reason.”
I don’t think it’ll be that easy, I thought, but held my tongue. Matthaeus wanted things to work and I didn’t think telling him otherwise would do any good right now.
Mellowwind arrived shortly after. “The room has been prepared,” she said. “Let us begin.”
***
The room was rectangular, not too small and not too large, painted with soft pink painted in abstract swirls; the middle of the room was dominated by a large, mahogany table, three chairs on either side and two cushions on either end for the Urocy. Allyceus, Odysseus and Owain Jr — whose appearance surprised me for a moment — had already found their seats, framed by the armoured clad forms of Eleus and Alfred; the seating was important, subtly painting a picture, and that Allyceus was at the centre spoke to who would lead these proceedings on their side.
Our group hadn’t put as much thought into our entrance, which meant Matthaeus and I led and Clyde trailed behind us — which didn’t feel right when he was supposed to be centred. Matthaeus must have had a similar thought because he sat on the left chair and I on the right. Clyde noticed and froze for far too long before he slunk to the central chair and sat heavily.
Surya and Hatim stood at either side of us, staring down the two knights.
I turned my attention to Surefoot and Mellowwind, they had stayed in the room while Lowgrowl had stopped just outside, two Urocy falling from the ceiling to land near him, guarding the door. Surefoot and Mellowwind hopped on the table and sat on their cushions.
With no other distractions, I could do nothing but look at the other side of the table. I kept myself from flinching as the scowls directed at me: Odysseus who held a cold fury masked by indifference; Allyceus masked nothing, he wore his betrayal on his sleeve, the anger clearly represented by his gloomy luminous eyes; and Owain Jr whose expression held smug amusement.
Remember your victories. You’re not a coward.
“Greetings once again to all,” Surefoot started. “We gather here today to discuss the release of Sir Corneleus Marlin.”
“And though it is unspoken,” Mellowwind added, “there are other matters that are no doubt on the minds of the humans present. The matter of Prince Matthaeus Mandaron—”
“He is no longer a prince,” Allyceus cut in, his anger barely restrained. Matthaeus shifted, resettling in his chair. “He left and the title was passed to me, at present, he holds no titles.”
“Apologies for the error,” Mellowwind said, inclining her head and bowing low. “The matter of the disappearance of Matthaeus Mandaron and Champion Jordan—”
“Khaya,” I corrected.
“That would mean you lied to Surefoot,” said Mellowwind, concern in her voice, “and indeed everyone in Malnor castle.”
“I did,” I told them. There was no way to bypass it. I could make excuses, but I doubted Surefoot or his will accept it. “It made things easier.”
“Was it all a lie, then?” Odysseus asked, and his bitterness surprised me. “The plays at friendship.”
This was supposed to be about closure, apologising for my betrayal, but now that I was here it felt different. Vitriol was being directed at me and my mind kept replaying my time in the castle. I had been nothing but a plaything to them, there had been moments of friendship but they had been overshadowed with being used as a tool. My idea of closure from before had been some form of apology, but…how else could I have played things.
My life had been on the line.
A deep resentment started to build in my stomach, bubbling up and threatening to overwhelm me. I took a breath, remembering why we were here. If I mouthed off, then it might endanger the freedom of Clyde’s people, and that was the most important part of being here.
“Can we get the important part of the way,” I said. “There are people who want to buy their freedom, and someone has been taken hostage—”
“What authority do you think you have that you would command the prince and crowned princess to choose your course of action?” Owain interrupted, the words devoid of emotion, bearing only smugness. It felt like some part of this was fun for him, and it was because he’d won — getting what he’d wanted from the beginning.
“It’s why we’re here,” I said, not rising at the bait.
“Directly,” said Mellowwind, “But indirectly, there are other matters connected to our meeting.”
I stopped and looked at her. Why?
“My sister is the Spiritual Guardsman,” Surefoot answered. “She protects the way of our dens, she is the holder of the final truth. The memories that we hold are a good record, but they do not hold thoughts, meaning there is much context that might be lost. It is therefore important that she adds markers for future interpretation.”
I let out a long breath and shrugged. “Clyde is the chief of these peoples,” I said. “He wasn’t introduced, but he stands for his people.”
His expression turned to shock — it hit me that with the simmering resentment hanging in the air, me calling attention to him was throwing Clyde to the dogs. The man sat with his shoulders hunched, mouth slightly open as he stared at Allyceus’ glowing eyes; his breathing picked up and his eyes shook, gears turning but nothing coming out, and not helping things at hall, Odysseus and Allyceus didn’t look impressed.
As important as Clyde being here was, maybe I’d rushed things. I had forced him into a confrontation he’d told me over and over that he couldn’t go through, and now he was stuck. I wanted people to get over the grovelling they seemed to direct at the nobles and the royal family, but I had to remind myself it wouldn’t be easy or simple, and brute forcing it could cause more harm than good.
If he can’t talk for them, then you have to. Even if you don’t like it. Even if it isn’t working the way you want it to.
“His people were being treated harshly by one of your father’s vassals,” I said and he let out a relieved sigh, visibly slouching as his head hung. I couldn’t see it clearly, but there might have been shame in his eyes. Yeah, bringing him here had been a bad idea. “They couldn’t pay taxes and their livestock were taken, soon after their children would have been sent to the mines to work off their debts—”
“All of this is known,” Allyceus said, his tone flippant. “What is the purpose of you repeating it?”
I stopped and gaped for a second. Had it been like this before? Had the disregard for commoners been this direct? The darkness in my stomach continued to bubble, threatening to overwhelm me with its intensity. Odysseus, Allyceus and Matthaeus all didn’t like their father, and yet there were moments in how they each acted that reminded me of the king.
They’re his children. Just like Rowan’s children share similarities with him, the same is true for the Mandaron siblings.
I swallowed the bubbling resentment, doing my best to keep my mind on track.
“They were hunted,” I said, the words slow and careful, but my tone seeped through. “And Corneleus was caught. Matthaeus told me that the life of a noble is a thousand over the value of a commoner’s, and we want to cash in. We give you Corneleus, but in return the people formerly…formerly belonging to Lord Bowers are free to do as they please, travel wherever without risk of persecution.”
“Done,” said Allyceus, the word tight. “Is that all? We have the documentation and Duke Surefoot can be the signatory. Shall we complete it?”
“Just like that?” I said, a little surprised. I thought he’d be petty about it as a way to screw me and Matthaeus over.
“Your company offends me, Champion,” he said, his luminous eye like a rolling storm. “Through machinations you no doubt thought were smart, you forced us here. Some part of me thought that you might use this opportunity for an apology—”
“Excuse you?” I said, the words slipping out and my expression twisting. Allyceus’ luminous eye flashed with danger.
“— but you bear your impudence without the slightest hint of remorse.”
“I have nothing to be sorry for,” I said, but I didn’t like the sound of my voice, it felt like I didn’t believe the words. A part of me still held a measure of guilt, but that was disappearing against an onslaught of other, darker emotions.
Having Odysseus and Allyceus here had been a mistake. Matthaeus had wanted us here so he could talk to his siblings, yet he had been silent throughout.
“You betrayed us,” said Odysseus, the chill of the words pulling me from my thoughts. “You played at being a friend — made lofty promises — but all of it was a ruse.” His eyes went to Matthaeus and a cold anger moved through them. Matthaeus flinched, looking away, his expression writ in shame. Odysseus’ gaze returned to me and it was cutting. I scowled in answer. “You knew how important your presence was, you pretended as if you stood with us, but no, you were trying to escape.”
“Because I was imprisoned.”
“In a castle?” Owain said and he let out a snort. “Amongst royalty? Ridiculous.”
“Is it really?” I asked, with a pointed look at Odysseus and Allyceus. That seemed to cut through their anger, giving them pause.
My heart hammered in my chest, resentment building. It felt like a lot of ire was being pointed towards me when it's true target was Matthaeus, and still he wasn’t saying anything.
We’re different people when we’re around family, I thought, because this wasn’t the Matthaeus I knew. He’d closed off, his body language hidden and his expression masked. Matthaeus had told us the story of him leaving the castle and he’d only truly spoken to his father when he had been angry. Would the same happen here? Would he be silent until he broke?
“Because there’s a fuck-ton of people who would disagree with you,” I continued. “Not just me.”
“Then they, just as you, are cowards,” Owain Jr said. “It is quite simple really.”
He probably thought I was talking about Matthaeus, but as much as they tried to hide it, I could see that Owain’s eyes hit Odysseus and Allyceus equally as hard.
“I feel like you might have a screwed-up conception of what cowardice is, then,” I said. “Because you have no idea how hard it was for me to leave. Going out into a world I knew very little about except for a part of it I couldn’t access anymore.”
“There is truth in his words,” Matthaeus said, his voice soft and filled with shame and guilt.
“I am surprised you can speak, brother,” Allyceus cut in, matching the pain with anger. “Though I think I would have preferred you stayed silent. In no words at least there is shame. Something you should learn, Champion, or at least feign at it since you use the very balls we gave you to spit back at our faces.”
“Allyceus,” Matthaeus said, his voice soft. Allyceus jumped, his eyes suddenly desperate as they went from him to me and then to Owain whose expression changed into confusion — at least he had the decency to stay silent. “You are angry, both of you are, and rightfully so, but it is unfair of you to direct all of this at others.”
“Those words seem to pose Jordan as blameless,” Odysseus muttered.
“And your words make it seem like there was much of a choice,” I said, immediately regretting that I was breaking a talk between siblings but all the same irritated that I was a part of things.
Maybe you integrated yourself so well you can’t help but be a part of things.
“I gave you everything,” Odysseus said, his cold anger turning fiery. He stopped for a moment, composing himself and continued, “I was raising you up into more than you could ever be. Moving you from a commoner into the ranks of the nobility.”
“Oh, fuck off, Odysseus.” Eleus shifted, his hand closing around the hilt of his sword. Behind me I felt as Surya’s wings stretched, answering the minor threat. I ignored them. “You gave me what you thought I needed to get you what you want,” I said, the rage in my stomach tipping over and spewing out of my mouth. “How much did you really give me? How much do you know about me? Of my home? I told you, point blank, that you don’t see me, and did that make you introspective? Did it make you look at me in a new light? Fuck no, it was more of the same.”
This isn’t closure, the more rational part of me thought. It was a continuation of the letters, where we’d both been aiming to hurt each other. But what had I been expecting? I wasn’t about to apologise and with how much Odysseus blamed me instead of thinking about things from my perspective he wasn’t to admit any culpability on his part.
Ally…he was more complicated, but there was the same centring of their own well-being instead of anyone else.
“You speak like you care, Odysseus, but you don’t. None of you do. If you did, Cybill would be here.”
As soon as the name had left my mouth I knew instantly that I’d made a mistake. Allyceus flowed to a rise, his hand thrumming the air in quick succession before it started to close around something that hadn’t yet appeared.
I’m going to die, flicked through my mind a moment before a wave of pink light splashed out, slamming into me without force but all the same sending all the chairs and people on my side skidding back. Allyceus’ rapier materialised but it hit nothing, but it left my breathing hard, my brow drenched in sweat and my body shaking.
“You dare speak her name when it’s by your doing that she’s gone?” he said, the words a growl. In Allyceus’ other hand her dagger had appeared, pointed down, her hands white as they gripped its hilt.
I wanted to retort but it stuck in my throat.
Everything had happened so fast that everyone had been caught by surprise, not even our guards had moved. I took in a deep breath and let it out, audible and shaky.
If Surefoot hadn’t been quick to act, Allyceus would have killed me.
Allyceus’ swords disappeared as she sat, and with gravity magic Surefoot pulled us back, closer to the table. My heart still hammered and my thoughts felt both frantic and tranquil, slow and fast, as if things were breezing by but I could pick everything apart at the same time.
“I think I’m done,” I said as the little affection I’d still held for them evaporated into nothing. “Allyceus agreed to the terms we had and we’ll like them in writing, signed by Surefoot. Then I think Clyde and I will leave.”
Clyde once more jumped at his name. It looked like the man had retreated into his chair, and the idea of any comment directed at him sought to lob the rage of the princes at him.
Clyde and I will be done, but this was also about Matthaeus, who hasn’t said anything yet. He seems to by shying away from the anger of his siblings.
I was disappointed, even if I could understand and empathise.
But what was most important was that there would be no closure here, we were at an impasse when it came to expectations.
Odysseus and Allyceus were self-centred in the way only privilege could foster; being in the castle, with them as the only people I was around, had left a vacuum they had filled even without my meaning to. Odysseus and Allyceus were people and thus there was nuance in their behaviour, but mostly they thought about their best interests above everyone else and I could feel that they would be in the way in the future.
“And if we say no?” said Odysseus and Owain grinned. “You are too presumptuous, Jordan. You speak to me as if I am your equal when you are nothing of the sort.”
“I’m the Champion,” I said.
“A title with only as much meaning as we give it,” said Odysseus. “You are nothing without us, without our teachings, our training.”
“I’m everything without you,” I said. “If you really believe what you’re saying, then you’re the fool because I’ve done a fuck of a lot on my own. I fell off a building and managed to save you. I manoeuvred past all of you and you’re supposed to be greater warriors than me. I fought against the Caller of the Boar. I’m the Champion and that’s something I did for myself.”
“Through—”
“Enough,” Matthaeus cut in. Not loud, but Odysseus was all the same cowed.
“What right do you have to tell him—”
“Enough, Allyceus,” Matthaeus said, louder, tone brooking no argument. “Champion Khaya is a great man, that much is true, and you will not slander him or diminish his achievements.”
“And are we to take you at your word?” Allyceus returned. “When your word, your promises mean nothing to you.”
“My word is my bond.”
“And yet you left us,” said Allyceus, his pain audible through the anger. “You ran off into the night, offering no explanations at all. You promised us much, but in the end you left us with nothing but burdens.”
“I was beset by my own burdens,” Matthaeus said gravely. “For a long time I thought I had the strength to bear them, but suddenly I was overcome by it all. There seemed no option before me but to leave.”
“You abandoned us,” said Allyceus, the emotion in his voice so raw that it shook me, stoking the embers of sympathy.
“And when I was of right mind, I regretted it,” he said.
“Not enough to return,” said Odysseus, with a more muted pain. “You stayed out there, choosing to be with him instead of coming back to us. You fought for him even though you should have guessed what it would mean for us.”
Matthaeus swallowed and looked down. “Brothers,” he said. “I cannot return to the castle. I never could. That place…I know you’ve felt it, even before my leaving and more so after. It is not a good place to be. It promises power but all that it holds are burdens. You are more likely to die than you are to get what you truly want out of it.”
I saw a flicker of something in Allyceus’ eyes, as if the words resonated with him. Leaning on the ring, I carefully watched his expression, seeing as the moment that betrayed weakness was closed off behind a mask of anger.
“As hard as it is to imagine, the life I led after I left was the freest I have ever felt. I was able to accomplish more, learned of myself in ways that I would never have been able to under Father’s tutelage or in the responsibilities the crown held.”
“We will not abandon our family,” Allyceus said, the words hard.
“I am your family,” said Matthaeus, “and so are Eleus and Elea. But what does that mean in the castle? We are but tools for Father as he attempts to hold power he is losing by the day. By the Fates, we do not even know the twins nor they us; they consider the priests and acolytes more their family than they do us, their own blood kin.”
Odysseus scowled, sudden suspicion appearing in his eyes. “If any other prince abdicates, there would be chaos,” he said. “You are not so stupid that you would miss that, would you?”
“Does it matter?” Matthaeus asked. “When it is the very crown that is the source of all our troubles? Why do we care for it, really?”
“Because it is our birth right,” said Allyceus.
“It is my birth right,” he returned, not missing a beat, and Allyceus recoiled. “It was never to be yours, and even now…” He turned to Owain, “will it truly be yours? Why do you fight for it, then? Is it perhaps that there is something you want you think only the crown might be able to give you? Because I can guess at it and I have secured word that it could be yours.”
“And it all makes sense,” said Odysseus with sudden amazement. “You are aligned with Rowan.”
Allyceus’ eyes widened, and his weren’t the only ones. Owain, Eleus, Alfred, even Surefoot and Mellowwind. The Crowned Prince looked between his brothers, disbelief written on his expression. “That cannot be true,” he said.
“It’s true,” said Matthaeus. Odysseus violently pushed back his chair as he stood, turning for the door. “Brother,” Matthaeus said. “You are a scholar of history, surely you can see the signs. Champions are the great bringers of change and Rowan has already succeeded once in Washerton, subsumed Susserton without our notice, and now he has set his sights on Althor. You’ve said before that truth of the path the Fates set before us is written in history, and the history here is clear. Rowan will succeed and it will be done through the end of the Mandaron line. I am only trying to save you.”
“This meeting,” said Odysseus. “Would it have occurred if you were not serving Rowan?”
“I do not serve Rowan,” said Matthaeus.
“And you did not answer my question,” said Odysseus, the words heavy. “But I suppose that is answer enough. I will make my exit. Ally, I would advise you to sign these papers of theirs and have our cousin returned to us. Discussions with these men will yield nothing.”
And without waiting for an answer he strode off, leaving a silence that lingered in the air like a bad smell.
“Duke Surefoot,” said Allyceus, the words still heavy with emotion. “If you would be so kind as to bring us parchment and ink.”
“Of course,” said Surefoot. He went to the door, shared a quick word with his brother and then the table ripple for a moment before the requisite materials appeared. Surefoot hopped on the table again and watched as Allyceus, his hand, started to draft the contract.
I jumped as I felt a hot breath hit my ear. It was only Hatim. “Keep track of the other prince,” he whispered. “I still have a bad feeling.”
I nodded and focused on my spatial sense, stretching it to its limits. Odysseus had gone to join Allyceus’ ladies-in-waiting, but the ladies were together and Odysseus apart from them, pacing so quickly he had to be using temporal magic. There were Urocy on the ceiling around us, unmoving and likely listening in.
The contract writing was dauntingly slow, Allyceus stopping a few times to catch his breath — feigning blowing on the ink to hide the show of emotion — before finally sliding the parchment across the table.
“Read the terms, and if you agree to them, it will be signed,” he said.
Matthaeus took it and read it over, then nodded.
“You should sign it, Clyde,” I said.
He shook his head. “You should, Champion. I can’t write.”
“Then put an ‘x’ on it,” I said. “It’s symbolic and that’s what matters. The Urocy will remember this contract, and I think they will be our advocate if anyone were to lie about its contents.”
“We will,” said Mellowwind. “The way is to keep to the truth.”
Still intimidated, Clyde took the quill, dipped it in ink, and marked a fat ‘x’ across it. He looked down at it and he wasn’t happy.
“My Grandma signs like that,” I said, “and I have an uncle who still has trouble writing even though he went to school. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s enough.”
Smiling, Clyde bowed his head as he slid the letter over to Allyceus, who marked it with his own signature, slanted and fancier than Clyde’s own marking. Allyceus reached into a pocket and pulled out a wooden stamp, he dipped it in ink then pressed it on the parchment; finally it was Surefoot’s turn, he dipped a claw in ink and signed, then his paw, pressing it on the left-most corner to match Allyceus’ stamp on the right.
“And that marks the end of our business,” said Allyceus, rising. “I hope to never see any of you again, and if I do, it will be as enemies and you will meet your end.” Matthaeus’ head hung. Allyceus and his coterie walked to the door. I felt as the Urocy who had been with Lowgrowl fell into the floor a moment before the doors opened. “Lord Lowgrowl,” he said. “Escort us to the teleport room. We will leave immediately.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Lowgrowl said and broke into a stride beneath them.
“We should get out of here,” said Hatim. “Things feel wrong.”
“Be calm, dear thief,” said Mellowwind, with surprisingly little judgement in what was usually a pejorative. “You are perfectly safe, and I would like to be allowed the moment to read over the contract for a better record.”
Surya stepped forward and gave Matthaeus a clap on the shoulder, not that the men felt it, too lost in his thoughts. I stood and almost fell, my legs felt shaky, as if I’d been sitting for a very long time. Likely a result of my near death from Allycea, something I now had the wherewithal to notice had gone without rebuke.
That was the privilege of being the future king — an attempt at murder could be brushed aside without comment.
There was a flash of something – it took me too long to realise that it was movement. One of the knights suddenly dashed forward too fast and then, before I could make sense of it all, four Urocy who had been in the ceiling suddenly crashed into the ground.
“Oh fuck, it’s happening,” I said, a moment before I felt a dozen people appear. Surefoot, Mellowwind and Clyde had stopped in surprise, but the others understood without elaboration. “They have the spatial hub.”