Banshees vengeance, p.47
Banshee's Vengeance, page 47
Solstice was but three days away. Deathly tired of the interminable meetings, arguments, and bickering, she just wanted the holiday to consume them so she could lose herself in marriage to Kyrian.
It wasn’t that she didn’t care who sat upon the Granite Throne—there was no one present who cared more—it was just that she felt bled dry by the kingdom. She’d given them so much, lost pieces of her heart that would never return, and now they all clung to the hope that she could put aside that pain, take up their crown, and wear it, thorns and all.
At one time, she might have. Once, with Ylera as her queen, she might have been able to summon the regal presence everyone claimed she bore and do as Thodan had asked. Now all she wanted was to be as far away from Y’Dan as she could get.
Nervously, she drew silly little curlicues on the borders of her parchment. Kyrian looked over at her, smiled, and then gave her knee a gentle squeeze. With a soft sigh, she put the pen aside, forcing herself to concentrate on the latest effort by Lord Zolicar to get his candidate—a potato farmer with three drops of royal blood in his family line—nominated to the throne. That Zolicar’s youngest daughter was married to the man surely had nothing to do with his zeal in promoting him.
Kyrian’s presence made listening to him drone on about this “Lord” Kinevan bearable, but only just.
“Will he go on much more, do you think? I’m beginning to suspect that he is the one who married the man, not his daughter,” Kyrian said dryly.
Azhani hid a laugh behind a fit of coughing, then winked at her. “I just might have an idea.”
“Oh?” Kyrian replied, her eyebrows quirking upward. “Care to share?”
“Soon. I just need to take advantage of the right moment,” she murmured, casting a glance in Lyssera’s direction. The queen of the elves appeared to be as disdainful as they were of Lord Zolicar’s candidate.
Finally, Lord Zolicar finished by saying, “My lords and ladies, I therefor humbly submit that we elevate Kinevan to the Granite Throne. Let this nightmare come to an end, and let us once more raise our voices in gleeful praise. Long live the king!”
“Thank you, Lord Zolicar.” Valdyss stood and looked around the chamber. “Now, if there’s no further business to present today, might I suggest—”
“I’d like to speak.” Azhani stood and made her way to the center of the room.
“Of course, Warleader,” he replied, immediately ceding control to her.
She gave him a knowing grin. “My lords and ladies, I have waited, watched, and listened as you debated what to do with Thodan’s crown. Some of you offered it to me—some of you argued against it. Most of you know I do not want it.” There were a few whispers of surprise from the assembled council, but most everyone nodded along with what she said.
Deliberately, she paced from one side of the chamber to the other, saying, “We have nearly turned this kingdom inside out looking for someone fit to rule it, someone whose blood bears all the right connections, whose integrity is above reproach, and whose bravery is felt to be second to none. Frankly, I have to say, you shall not find someone in this kingdom to match those qualifications to your satisfaction.”
Several people gaped at her in shock.
Others snapped, “Blood and bones, Warleader, what do you mean by that?”
She grinned. “Exactly what it sounds like—Thodan’s heir will not be taken from the men and women of Y’Dan.”
“I’m afraid you have us at a loss, Warleader,” Valdyss said quietly.
“I know. But I think it’s time we ended this little debate.” She moved to stand in front of Queen Lyssera. “Don’t you agree, my queen?”
After looking up at her with an expression of dismay and horror flickering across her lovely features, Queen Lyssera closed her eyes briefly and said, “Azhani, please—don’t do this.”
“I’m sorry, Lyss,” Azhani murmured. “I must. Forgive me.”
Lyssera bowed her head. “I hope you know what you’re doing. If anything happens—”
“I’ll submit myself to your judgment without reservation,” Azhani replied solemnly. “My oath on it.”
That seemed to satisfy her. Nodding once, Lyssera sat back and gestured quickly. “Go on, then.”
Azhani returned to the center of the room. “If you will all bear with me, I believe it’s time to share a story whose telling has been long in the coming.”
“We are here at your pleasure, Warleader,” Valdyss replied calmly.
“I’ll try to be brief,” she said, looking at her friends and loved ones. Kyrian, resplendent in crimson robes of silk and velvet, offered her a smile loaded with love and joy. Next to her were Padreg and Elisira, curiosity making them both seem far younger than their actual ages. High King Ysradan and his queen, Dasia, both sat with the weary posture of those whose bottoms have grown numb. All the ambassadors stared, with their retinues and scribes milling about anxiously. The gallery was filled with curious observers. Devon sat with his crutches rested next to Avisha, whose loud purr seemed to penetrate even the most grating of voices. Beside him, Princess Syrelle’s simple clothes had been replaced by courtly finery that made her radiant beauty almost overwhelmingly stunning, and of course, on her other side was Prince Allyndev.
Oh, Allyn. Azhani beheld him, seeing only the ghost of the gawky boy she had taken under her wing the previous spring. He had grown, had erupted into manhood just as she had known he would. To her mind he was everything she had hoped he would become.
“I’m going to ask you to go on a journey with me,” she said finally, beginning to pace around the room once more. “We’ll venture back twenty years, to a time when I was but a lass living here in Ydannoch castle, where my father was warleader and my king was a man driven by one deep desire—peace. For centuries, the elves of Y’Syr and the humans of Y’Dan had warred. In all that time, the reasons for our warfare had been lost. We did it because it was habit, and Thodan was tired of it. So tired that he was willing to trust that the elven queen felt the same way, and thus he sent my father to sue for peace.” She smiled. “To everyone’s great surprise, Queen Lyssera was more than willing to sit at the treaty table. However, it would take time, and hard work, and so the first of many secret journeys was undertaken. In my father’s company, Thodan made the trek to Y’Syria.”
Ysradan coughed softly. “I was never more proud of a man than I was when Thodan told me of his plans. Seeking peace is a gods-given quest.”
Nodding, Azhani said, “Thodan was driven by a nearly inhuman need to succeed, but he was, beyond a peacemaker, a man. And like many men, Thodan’s heart was empty. If you’ll recall, he’d yet to marry Queen Siobhan, and no matter how focused he was on his political needs, he was distracted. For you see, he’d met someone—a woman whose astounding wit, beauty, and charisma had left him completely dumbfounded. To his utter and great joy, she returned his affections. Sadly, their love affair could never end well, for he was Y’Dani and she, Y’Syran.”
Everyone in the room hung on her words. She could feel them leaning toward her, almost willing her to speak.
“I was there, my lords and ladies, and though I did not then know the importance of the moment, I can still clearly remember the day when King Thodan met Warleader Alynna Kelani.” She moved to stand in front of Allyndev. “Your mother.”
“Yes, master,” he said quietly.
“Master no longer, my friend,” she murmured. Raising her voice, she added, “I don’t remember what was said, but I do know that in those few weeks we spent in Y’Syria, I’d never seen Thodan smile so much. For you see, Prince Allyndev, your father was so deeply in love with your mother that he almost forgot the purpose that had sent him to parley with the elves.”
Shock held Allyndev fast in his seat. “My f-father?” he whispered, staring up at Azhani and unable to see anything but a childhood filled with taunts, half-heard whispers, and shame.
“Yes, my prince.” She went to her knees and took his hands in hers. “He loved her very deeply, so much so that he would have surrendered his kingdom to be with her, had he the choice. It was not to be. Neither the humans nor the elves would allow it. Not then, not when peace was a promise for a future yet unwritten.”
He was shaking. So many emotions spun through him that he could barely grasp one before another was taking its place. “B-but h-how? W-why did he not fight for her?” he rasped, blinking back a slew of tears. “I thought he loved her?”
She cupped her hand to his bearded cheek and smiled sadly. “He did. But your mother, in her wisdom, knew that their love would tear the kingdoms apart before peace even had a chance to blossom, so she told him a single lie—one that shaped the future for all of us, for you see, she made him believe she did not love him.”
“Oh Goddess,” he groaned, bowing his head, knowing it to be truth, for his mother had been like that. Noble, self-sacrificing, brave—three words he’d heard ascribed to Alynna Kelani for his entire life.
“Thodan left Y’Syr with a broken heart and a pouch full of promises of peace. Within two years, he had met and married Queen Siobhan and she gave him Arris. They were happy—blissful, even, until Queen Siobhan was killed in a sudden squall on Banner Lake.”
Numbly, Allyndev nodded. “I remember,” he said quietly. “I sent a letter of condolence to Arris.”
Azhani smiled then and rose, coaxing him to stand with her before taking her tale to the rest of the room. “We had an heir in Arris, and so Thodan never remarried. Instead, he threw himself into the ideal of peace. Of course, we had distractions. Rimerbeasts, bandits, barbarians—for a long time, it seemed as though Y’Dan’s northern border would never be safe. But we fought them all back, and young Arris grew up, cared for by his mentor, Porthyros Omal.”
A soft growl of anger rolled through the room, and Allyndev could barely hold back his own snarl of hatred for the man who had poisoned his cousin. No, my brother. Arris was my brother. And Thodan was my father. Oh, Gods. Oh, oh Gods. Realization of what was going to happen crashed down on him and he could barely keep himself from throwing up. Can it be? Can I really be Thodan’s son? Allyndev was dizzy with the implications.
“But despite it all, we prospered, my lords and ladies,” Azhani said quietly.
Almost no one was paying attention, though. All eyes in the room were on Allyndev, making him feel like he’d been stripped naked and sent to caper about before a room full of granthers.
Azhani came back to him. “And you, Prince Allyndev, you grew up in Y’Syr. You learned your letters and numbers, discovered a deep and abiding love for the earth and its growing things, lifted your eyes to the heavens and sought answers in the stars that spin above us. And yet no destiny came to collect you.”
“I always thought I wasn’t worthy.” He reached for Devon and Syrelle’s hands and found them there, waiting for him.
“You were always worthy,” Azhani said gently. “You just needed time, my prince. Time to grow into your heritage, time to become the son of the man your mother loved with all her heart. Thodan the Peacemaker, were he alive today, would look upon you and know you as his, as I know you as his, as all who truly open their eyes to see will know you as Allyndev Thodan, rightful king of Y’Dan.”
“Oh Goddess,” he gasped. His stomach turned into a pit of knots.
“Breathe,” Devon whispered as Syrelle shoved a flask into his hand.
“Drink,” she hissed. “And don’t you dare pass out.”
Quickly, Allyndev fumbled it open and drank. Raw alcohol burned down his throat, making him cough at its harshness.
Azhani chuckled. “Look at him. This man, this brave, honest, honorable man whose name has been on the lips of every soldier to pass through these halls. How many of you have felt as though you’ve seen him before, though all know that this is Prince Allyndev’s first visit to Y’Dan?”
“You have a strong point, Warleader,” Valdyss Cathemon said quietly. “From the moment we met, I have felt a certain familiarity to him. I thought it was merely because he resembled Ylera superficially, but I am beginning to believe it is more than that.”
Rising, High King Ysradan approached. Allyndev scrambled to meet him, bowing deeply as the man drew near. “Your Highness,” he mumbled respectfully.
Ysradan circled him slowly, then stopped and grabbed his face, tilting it this way and that in the light. “By Astarus’ blood.” He blinked rapidly as tears spilled down his cheeks. “She’s right. This boy is Thodan’s—there’s no mistaking this face.” Suddenly, he grabbed hold of him, crushing Allyndev in his embrace.
The gruff affection undid him and he broke, collapsing into Ysradan’s arms and sobbing. After all this time, he finally had a past. He had something more than shame and dishonor, something beyond the daily cruelties heaped upon him by men and women twice his age just for having rounded ears. He was not a bastard, he was not some pervert’s get, he had a father! His existence wasn’t through some tawdry act, but made of love and joy.
All his life, Allyn had tried to ignore those people and their horrible insinuations, but part of him had been unable to let go completely. Now, finally, he had answers.
“I have a father,” he whispered brokenly. “I have a father!” It was a tragedy and a triumph and he hated it as much as he wanted it, for he had finally found the man he had sought among all the Y’Dani faces—and he was already gone. He would never know Thodan and yet, he felt, from all those around him, that maybe he could finally begin to understand the man who had given him life.
“Ah, Gods,” Ysradan said wistfully. “Would that you could see this lad, my old friend, and be proud!” He grasped Allyndev by the shoulders and squeezed roughly. “He would have loved you, boy, and don’t you forget it!” Turning, he wrapped his arm around Allyn in a protective, paternal manner. “Fool me not, Queen of Y’Syr. I would hear your warrant on this boy’s parentage.”
Fear shot through Allyndev then, for with just a few words, his aunt could unmake this entire moment.
Regally, Lyssera inclined her head. “You have not been led astray, Ysradan. By my warrant, I name King Thodan of Y’Dan as father of Allyndev Kelani, prince of my house.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. Your candor is appreciated,” Ysradan said solemnly. “We understand what you are surrendering to us, and though we grieve with you, we ask you to share our joy for this most perfect of solutions.”
Lyssera smiled. “I am losing a nephew, my king, but gaining an ally. Sorrow will not cloud my eyes overlong, for my heart fills with gladness even now knowing that the land of my greatest friend will lie broken and kingless no longer.”
“No, it shall not,” Ysradan said. “You are to be thanked as well, Warleader, for without your willingness to face Y’Syr’s wrath, we might never have known the truth.”
“Truth, Your Highness, has a way of finding the light. I only gave it a push in the right direction,” Azhani replied with a bow.
“Indeed.” Ysradan led Allyndev to the empty throne that sat in the very center of the chamber. “So, lad, we come to you,” he said as he stared Allyndev in the eye. “Your truth has marked us all. We recognize it, we hear it, and we know it. You are Allyndev Kelani-Thodan.”
“Yes.” Allyndev nerves faded as he took a deep breath.
“Y’Dan’s throne sits empty and her people cry out for a king—will you take the crown and accept the legacy of your father?”
The walls of the council chamber were adorned with the portraits of the kings who had come before, images that ran through time all the way back to Ysradaran, the Firstlander prince who founded the kingdom. Allyndev stared at the one of Thodan and tried to imagine, just for a moment, what it would have been like to grow up here in Y’Dan, to have known his younger brother Arris, to have chased him through Ydannoch’s halls, tussling as children do. For a moment, it almost seemed as if he could hear an echo of boyish laughter. Swallowing heavily, he fought back a wave of sudden apprehension.
What right did he have to stand here, a foreigner, a halfbreed unwanted by his own people, and take what he hadn’t earned? Who was he to think he could rule better than someone like Azhani, who at least had years and years of experience to guide her judgments? He was nothing—less than nothing, for he was just a tainted bastard who would never bring honor to anyone’s house, much less earn the right to rule one.
The muscles in his legs started to bunch as if to propel him from the room at a dead run. He glanced around, and instinctively he looked first at Syrelle and Devon. Both were crying and smiling. The moment they seemed to understand he was focusing on them, both nodded vigorously.
Bolstered, he looked at Azhani, who saluted him, and then, finally, at Lyssera.
She smiled.
And then he asked himself, What do I want?
The answer, of course, was easy once he let himself choose. Kneeling before Ysradan, he said, “I will, my king. With all my heart, I will gladly wear Thodan’s crown.”
The chamber walls shook with the ferocity of the cheer that thundered through the room.
“Then rise, King Allyndev.”
Slowly, Allyndev rose.
Azhani knelt and was quickly followed by Lord Cathemon. One by one, the nobles of the council, the observers, and even Syrelle and Devon went to their knees. Only Ysradan and Allyndev remained standing.
Ysradan smiled warmly and stepped aside.
As the day candle’s wax burned into the midnight line, Allyndev Kelani-Thodan, king of Y’Dan, took his throne.
Ydannoch castle seemed overrun by an army of pages. With both a coronation and a wedding in the immediate future, every man, woman, and child with a drop of noble blood came racing to the city to pledge their allegiance and express their well-wishes. Though some had counseled against such a double ceremony, both the king-to-be and his advisers felt that returning Y’Dan to a sense of normalcy was more important than rousing all the pomp and circumstance that could be gleaned from such events.
