Dragons son, p.4
Dragon's Son, page 4
Amarea
Amarea’s stomach was somersaulting.
“Every room?” the head butler whined.
“You heard me! I said every room!” Amarea snapped. “Your prince is coming home. I want everything cleaned. I want everything polished. Everything dusted! Shake out the curtains, beat out the rugs. Do I make myself clear?”
The head butler bowed humbly. “Like crystal, Your Highness.”
“Be on your way!”
He was coming home. Amarea turned and stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the spacious hedge garden. Beneath her, servants rushed to and fro. The news had caused a storm like none Amarea had ever seen.
At last, Amarea thought. She forced herself to stand still. What she really wanted to do was gallop through the hallways, whooping and squealing like a child on Maximor’s Day. She breathed the air deeply and exhaled slowly.
He’s coming home. She tried to picture it. The conquering hero riding through the gates, rose petals raining, subjects cheering. She had pried the details from King Pereas after the meeting finished. The king had let her read the missive. She had melted to see the familiar hand forming such a different message. His language had been regal and stern in that missive.
A true king, she thought, pride swelling her breast.
How could she bear the wait?
She couldn’t.
Amarea turned and hastened down the corridor. She wanted to run, but after all:
“You must not appear as a child to anyone,” Alexis had written. “I know you are young, but so am I, and I lead the army. To be treated with dignity, you must behave with dignity. Put away childish things. Pursue your interests if they better you.”
Well, she wasn’t a child, but she was a wife who wanted to see her husband. Therefore, she walked as quickly as she could without running.
She found the king talking with a few nobles in a small chamber.
“Ah!” King Pereas looked up when she entered, and the nobles inclined their heads. “My son’s eager wife!”
“Very eager, Your Majesty.” Amarea dropped a curtsy. “I wish to meet him at Gathport with a large company. There is no reason the prince should not be welcomed with the pomp and splendor he deserves!”
“Very true!” King Pereas glanced at his nobles with a knowing smile.
“I shall see to the arrangements if Your Majesty will permit.”
Lord Gordus’s face lit with approval. “To be sure, Your Majesty, there are many who would crave the honor of welcoming such a magnificent hero! Unimar is in raptures!”
“Make arrangements,” King Pereas consented. “I shall look them over and make adjustments. After waiting so long for you, Alexis would be most unimpressed if you came to any harm.”
Amarea fought down a gratified smile. She curtsied. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said, and turned and left the room.
Alexis
Blossom Month, 4th day
We sail for Beotia tomorrow.
When autumn fell, word came to Unimar that the king was at last coming home, and with him, Villian. The news filled me with diverse emotions. I was eager to see my brother again and curious to see my father the king, but I guessed, and guessed rightly, that the brother who had left me five years ago would not be the brother that returned. He had been a dragon for many years before his departure, but now he was a dragon with a taste of blood. He would undoubtedly have fixed his sights more keenly on the Beotian throne, and though my loyalty still insisted I help him claim it, I could not say that I did not wish it for myself. I knew I was capable. I knew I could rule, but I hope you agree it was to my credit that I restrained my ambition and fueled instead my faith in Villian’s love for me and his country, as well as my own sense of duty and tradition. He was the eldest. If the kingdom went to either of us, it would rightfully go to him. It rightfully belonged to neither of us, but the disastrous crowning of Adana had to be avoided, so I put that particular tradition out of my mind and focused on preparing for Villian.
I stood by Lord Antium when the king and his retinue rode up to the palace. I was, I noticed with satisfaction, the only natural child of the king present. Adana stood dutifully but timidly with the ladies of the court.
I knew Villian the moment I saw him. He was armored and helmed and rode close to the king. When all had dismounted and removed their helmets, I watched as my brother followed the king up the portico steps. The king and his lords exchanged rehearsed salutations and lots of tedious talk of great battles. I had only eyes for Villian, and when he saw me, I kept my face impassive.
My lack of expression earned a twisting grin and a glint in his eyes.
I could not help but smile back.
I did not get the chance to speak with him until the evening’s banquet, and even then, not until the meal was much progressed. Villian found me and drew me away from the tables.
“I have heard much of you already, artful man,” Villian said. We retreated to the cloisters at the back of the room. I was pleased to find I was nearly as tall as him already, and Villian was not a small man. He examined me, as if comparing his memory of me with the more mature features I possessed now. “They say you are slicker than Antium, now.”
I knew what he was trying to ask. He had not forgotten the task he had laid upon me. For a young man who had missed his brother, it was a cold way to begin a reunion, but it did not surprise me. “I know the court well,” I said, aware that this would supply him with the answer he desired.
Villian’s eyes lighted with the dragon glint. “Come with me, brother,” he said and placed an arm around my shoulders.
He led me from the banquet hall out onto the adjacent veranda. It overlooked a garden, which I presume is still there, filled with tiger lilies and exotic trees and such. It was designed to impress visitors.
Still led by my elder brother, I followed as he descended the veranda steps and, for the first time in my life, matched his long strides with ease. He was in a hurry for privacy. No doubt, he knew our absence would soon be noticed. I wondered if it had been noticed already, and watched surreptitiously for followers. My brother was exactly the kind of person whose conversations a courtier would want to spy on.
I was satisfied that we were alone when my brother finally stopped and turned to face me. I could barely see him in the dark. We had brought no lamp or torch, and the flickering lights of the banquet were blocked by the tall hedges. The sound of revelry was distant.
“Did it happen?” he breathed.
Could he sense I was still human? It occurred to me he probably could. I decided to test it.
“Can you not sense it?” I asked.
“I sense nothing.” He was angry. I could hear it in his voice. “Are you a dragon, Alexis?”
I would have preferred facing an angry dragon where I could see it, but Villian had not given me that option. No doubt, he could see perfectly fine. I fixed my gaze on where I knew his head was and wiped my face clean of expression. “I am no dragon, Villian. I chose against it.”
“You what?” His words were a rasp of disbelief.
“I am no dragon,” I said again. “I chose against it. I rejected the change.”
He seized my hair and shoulder.
I resisted, knowing how to free myself from such a grip. We scuffled, and then Villian drew back. I stepped away. My eyes had adjusted to the dark, and I could see him well.
I heard a low, deep-throated growl.
I was mortally afraid.
“Fool.” There was a grinding sound to Villian’s voice, like he was speaking from a monster’s throat. He kept to a whisper. “You gave up everything. You rejected everything! Why did you refuse such a chance?”
I considered my answer carefully. My legs were pleading to carry me away at a run, but I stood firm, knowing that however fast I was compared to other humans, I would be no match for a dragon. Nor did I want to run. I have tried to be unbiased in writing this out and tried hard to avoid celebrating myself falsely. I believe I have accomplished this tolerably well. I write, therefore, with full truthfulness that I consider my standing before Villian at that moment one of the bravest feats of my youth. No one can know the terror I felt. I was defenseless, a man against a mighty beast, a boy confronting the infected shell of his brother’s form. Villian’s breath came out in audible scrapes. He was fighting the transformation. At least, I remember thinking, he was trying to keep from killing me.
“I never wanted to be what our mother was,” I said. “I do not need it.”
“You think you can rise without power?” Villian gnashed his teeth.
I forced my heart to calm. Fear made one say stupid things. Now was not the time for mistakes. “I know my strength,” I said. “I know my capacities. A dragon’s mind is clever, but I seek for more than blood and gold. I seek for Beotia’s glory.”
“I could kill you, now.”
“Listen to me, Villian,” I said, keeping my voice steady but whispering fast. “You left me with a task. I know the court. I’ve been here for less than a year, and already, I know what you’ll need. You think you can take the throne? Not without me. Not without the influence I hold.”
“You speak big words for a boy of your age.”
“Compliments can be poison. I warrant you haven’t mastered that. You’re a dragon. You love flattery. I’ve heard of your victories. They were masterful, Villian, masterful!”
I perceived a change in his mood. Intrigued, I continued. “You whipped the enemy. You expanded the borders. With you on our throne, we will tower over all kingdoms! You will be the greatest king the empire has ever seen.”
It was working. I could scarce believe it. Villian was listening to me with pleasure, ears fattening with my flattery. Were dragons truly as gullible as this? I had warned him outright that I was tinkering with him. He did not seem to care.
“I will be the greatest king,” Villian said. He sounded like a purring cat. “You were an idiot for refusing the inheritance, but I see you are useful, regardless. You know the court, you say? I will have need of you. Come hither, Alexis; I will not hurt you.”
I deliberated, not trusting his assurance, but I at last obeyed, approaching with caution. Villian drew me near and leaned close to whisper in my ear.
“Tomorrow, I kill the king.”
My body froze. My breath stopped. I listened as he continued.
“I will not wait. The kingdom needs me now. I want the kingdom now, and I will have it! The plan is in place.”
I dared not say a word. If I spoke, he would doubt me. I washed all emotion from my face.
“Our final campaign ended last summer,” Villian went on. “The Pelizians proved too great for conquest, and we entered instead into a treaty of wary peace. I will end the peace when I am king. Honor will drive me! Because the Pelizians have sent assassins, and they will kill the king tomorrow.”
I looked at him, and there was mirth in his eyes. “You are going to blame the Pelizians for our father’s death?”
It seemed to displease Villian that I had referred to the king as “our father”. He frowned at me and opened his mouth to speak.
I spoke first. “Are you sure it is time, Villian?” I asked calmly but earnestly. “If you kill Pereas now, what assurance do you have that the nobles will support you as their king? You may be a hero, but you are also natural born. I have heard nothing in Unimar to suggest that the nobles see you as anything more.”
“I have an army to support me,” Villian said. “Real power is military power. My assassins will kill the king, and I will seize the throne. Our dream is coming true, Alexis. Tomorrow, it begins. I will rise to power and rule the world. Are you with me, or are you afraid?”
I hated him, then. The emotion surprised me when it came. Who was this beast, this monster, this enemy who dared dream of ruling our land? Beotian pride has always burned hot in my veins. Villian was no Beotian. He was the creature Beotians destroyed.
“I am with you,” I said.
Villian grinned. “Then wait for it, little brother. Tomorrow, you and I will be free.”
Amarea
When Alexis stepped off the boat, the air exploded with applause. Amarea clenched her hands for a final time and then relaxed them.
Alexis walked down the plank to the dock. He seemed a little surprised by the welcome; perhaps even unnerved. Amarea could make out his face from where she stood and detected at once similarities between him and the king. They had the same chin. They had the same nose. But that was all they shared.
Alexis Comnenus caught sight of her, and his mouth twitched into a smile. He strode to meet her, flanked by his officers, all older men save one. Amarea deemed that the younger man must be Sebastian, Eldenon’s estranged prince. Happily estranged, according to everyone Amarea asked.
When Alexis stood before her, Amarea dipped a curtsy. Alexis bowed at the waist. For a moment, neither spoke, each summing the other up, taking in their first meeting since their wedding.
“Princess Amarea,” Alexis greeted. “I was not expecting such a welcome.”
He was dressed like a soldier. Amarea hoped he did not mind.
“How else should a kingdom welcome home its prince?” Amarea said, pleased that it did not sound rehearsed. She smiled, adding, “Or a princess, her prince?”
Alexis’s eyes twinkled. “No other way that I could suggest. The prince has fought long and hard for his kingdom.”
“And so he is honored.” Butterflies were dueling in her stomach. She could barely conceal the fact. “We have prepared food and rest.”
Alexis studied her, eyes still twinkling. Then, claiming Amarea’s hand, he kissed it.
Cheers went up all around.
“Lead the way, Your Highness,” Alexis invited.
Alexis
Blossom Month, 6th day
Ridiculous, but I feel I need to write this out before joining you at dinner.
I did not sleep that night. How my head thrummed as I paced back and forth. Fear and desperation plagued the hours from nine until twelve. How I longed for counsel, for an escape, for a solution. My friend Sebastian was far away, and my mentor was dead. Lord Antium, though we respected one another, I did not trust. He did not care for me in a protective sense. Any counsel he gave would be warped to benefit himself. Perhaps he would even support Villian’s plot and betray me to Villian.
I could, perhaps, tell the king. I felt little love for my father, but I was not so devoid of affection as to wish him dead. He was my king, as well as my father. Villian was a dragon, Beotia’s mortal enemy. I would never ally myself with such a creature, nor permit one to sit on the throne, nor allow one to murder Beotia’s king.
To tell the king, I would have to request an audience with him. Though I had risen in importance, I was still a natural son and the younger of two. Seeking an audience would attract unwanted attention, and there was also the chance of delay or denial. If Villian learned of my attempt to speak with the king, he would suspect me at once and be done with me.
I would need a way to prove Villian’s guilt, and for the longest time, nothing came to mind. I thought my proverbial brains out, scrutinizing the facts this way and that, searching for a weak link in my brother’s plan.
Villian had hired assassins so that he could pin the king’s murder on Pelizia. For his accusation to be credible, he must have organized some sort of proof. Would the king be shot by a Pelizian arrow? Would he simply blame the Pelizians and force Beotia to follow? I did not doubt that Villian could and would seize the throne if the king were to die. He was ruthless and did indeed have the army’s favor. Or at least, part of the army’s favor.
This made proving Villian’s guilt all the more crucial, for it would not be enough to save the king if Villian had an army at his disposal. The army needed to see that their hero was a traitor. I considered then that I could find the assassins myself and make them talk. The question was this: was I capable?
By dawn, I had not concocted a solid plan. I was sitting awake in my chair by the fire, combing through the scores of empty ideas I had assembled. I had no one I could trust, so I was in this alone. That in and of itself seemed to doom the king to death and the kingdom to ruin. I was smart, but not smart enough.
I breakfasted quickly, changed my clothes, and headed for the throne room. I found my father already there, and the court was assembling. Villian was with him, and the two were conversing in a manner that showed that my father respected him. I was careful not to show emotion. It was a trick I had devised long ago. My reputation was that I looked calm and slightly bored with whatever was happening. People could never tell what I was truly thinking.
I did not have to decide whether to approach them or not. Lord Antium saw me at once and drew near.
“Your father is eager to see you,” he said, eyes calculating as always. He gestured and then led the way forward.
Villian turned his eyes upon me and his words stopped as a smile spread over his mouth. His eyes glinted. Of course. They glinted over everything.
“Alexis!” he exclaimed. “Your Majesty—” Villian laid a hand on the king’s arm, but King Pereas had already noticed me.
“My younger son!” The king smiled. “I have heard a good report.”
Lord Antium’s mouth quirked in a cunning twist. “My king,” he said, bowing, “I have brought you the prince.”
I bowed.
“He has the look of a promising soldier,” my father mused. “Speak, Your Highness. Alexis, can you not speak?”
“Better than most men,” I replied.
“Better than most? I daresay you believe it!” King Pereas looked me over. “Your brother is proud, Villian; as proud, even, as you!”
Villian laughed.
“Prince Alexis’s words are better, Your Majesty, because he only speaks when wise,” Lord Antium interjected smoothly. “The wisdom of men is rare, so Alexis rarely speaks.”
