Jinaari lowered himself into the large copper tub. It sat close enough to the fireplace to keep the water at the perfect temperature for his sore muscles. Leaning back, he closed his eyes. Drakkus was relentless in his training, but with reason. Every day, he was getting faster at anticipating Aust’s attacks. The Fallen had been sent to the infirmary for healing after both sessions today.
And he was taking fewer hits from his opponent. The soreness he felt today wasn’t from bruises but because of how long Drakkus had kept them sparring.
He was close. He knew it. When he could take down Aust every single time, without being hit, that’s when he thought Garret would send him back. Being here at the chapterhouse full of comforts, like this bath, when they had none grated at his mind.
Grabbing at the cake of soap, he washed up. Drakkus hadn’t been able to tell him anything new beyond Thia and the rest were still alive. The Fallen search parties hadn’t found them yet. But the cloud remained over Tanisal, as well. Whatever Drogon had at his disposal, it wouldn’t be friendly.
Frustration gnawed at him. Tomorrow, he decided. Tomorrow, I’ll avoid all blows and make him wish he’d never left Byd Cudd. Then Garret will send me back, and I can finish this. Rising from the water, he stepped out and grabbed a towel. As he finished drying off, he heard someone pound on his door.
“Althir! You have a visitor,” Drakkus called out.
“Just a minute,” he replied, grabbing at his pants and shoving his legs into them. His hands worked the laces as he headed to the door.
It flew open before he could reach it. “You were taking too long,” the brunette woman said as she strode into the room.
“Hello, Mother,” Jinaari said, tossing the towel to one side. He walked to the chair where he’d left his clean shirt and started to put it on. “What brings you here?”
A single bell began to peal, loud enough to echo through his room. His jaw tightened at the sound.
“Your grandfather has passed away.”
Bowing stiffly, he said, “Your Majesty. Long may Queen Agrana reign.”
“Enough of that,” she snapped. “I’ve been surrounded by courtiers and sycophants my entire life. I didn’t raise you to be among them.” She sat in a chair. “I have things that must be declared, and soon. You’ll continue as Lord Defender of Avoch, of course.” She sighed. “You earned the shield, and title, many times over. No one would question that.”
“That’s not why you came here, though.”
“Too many already feel I’m unfit simply because I’m a woman, want to have me abdicate in favor of another. Those whispers have been around since your father died. I must declare my heir before they try and change the succession.”
“What are you saying?” He sank into the chair opposite of her.
“You will be announced as my successor tomorrow.” She held up a hand, silencing his protest. “I need you to swear your allegiance to me. I need those vows, from the Lord Defender, next in line, and my son.”
“What about Amara? Or Stijyn? Either one of them is a better choice. And more comfortable with the politics that court requires. My vows to Garret cannot be put aside that easily. You know this.” Not now!
“Down the road, when my rule is secure, I may change my mind. The second reading of the marriage banns between your sister and Duke Tomil will be done after the funeral, when the Almair delegation comes to court. I need that alliance. As to your brother,” she paused, “I have thought of him. But not yet. He’s too wild. He doesn’t have the sense of duty that you do.” She reached out, taking his hand. “I know this is the life you are best suited for. You are a warrior, not a politician. Sometimes we must do what is needed, not what we want. If the Gods are with us, you will keep to this one and not have to return to mine. That is up to the needs of Avoch, though. Please, I need you to promise me this. Now.”
“There’s a task that Garret and Keroys have set me to. One that is vital to more than just Avoch. I cannot stay here and play at being a Prince.”
“You only need to say the words. Drakkus,” she nodded to the commander, “will be the official witness. When the declaration is read tomorrow, we’ll word it to include your absence in the days—”
“This could take weeks. Months even.”
She gave him a direct look. “Don’t make me wish I’d given into your father’s wish that you become a barrister. It will say enough, in the right language, for the populace to know you are loyal to me. To Avoch. And that you’ll answer any summons of either the Crown Prince or Lord Defender. You will answer such a call, won’t you?”
He sighed, knowing the answer before he said it. “Yes. Should Queen Agrana summon me as the Lord Defender, I shall answer. Should the council require The Crown Prince, I will answer. If my mother needs me, I will answer.” He looked at her, his head tilted to one side. “Does that satisfy the requirements?”
“It’ll do,” she rose, and Jinaari stood with her. “I hope, one day, you’ll grow to love us as much as you do this life. Not everyone who was born to privilege wants to do evil. Some do want what is best for others to come first.”
He didn’t respond. Too much of his youth was spent seeing his grandfather say one thing while doing another. Being raised by others, because his parents were gone. When word came, less than a year into his training at the chapterhouse, that his father had died, he had trouble remembering his face. To Jinaari, he was someone to avoid.
She sighed and headed to the door. “I encourage you to attend the funeral if you’re still here. It would be good for everyone to see the man you’ve become.”
“Good for me or good for you?”
“Don’t be rude.” She waited as Drakkus opened the door. “May Garret keep you safe, my son.” Without another word, she left, followed by the commander.
He dropped back into the chair, cradling his head in his hands. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not yet. He should have had years to be true to himself. Time for Stijyn to grow up and into the role he was born to. This was Jinaari’s life. A suit of armor sat well on him. A crown didn’t.
Desperate to find some sense of peace, he rose and walked to the window that overlooked the main courtyard. There was still a light burning in the smithy. Grabbing an apple off a tray, he shoved his feet into his boots and headed downstairs. Henry had asked for five days to fix his armor. It’d been seven. If it was done, he’d feel better about what was going on in the palace.
Steam rose from the forge as he neared. They were busy, even at this hour. Several workers moved about the area. Jinaari scanned the space as he approached, looking for Henry. He spotted him near the largest forge, supervising one of his apprentices as they hammered on a glowing piece of metal.
“Evening, friend,” he called out as he ducked under the low hanging awning.
“Your Royal Highness.” Henry bowed slightly. Jinaari frowned. How could he know? Was word spreading that fast? “I didn’t expect you. Is the armor not fitting well?” He picked up a rag and wiped his hands with it.
“I’m here to pick it up now. I haven’t seen it yet.”
Henry looked at him, concern on his face. “I finished it two days ago, as promised. One of the new recruits came, said he was to bring the armor to you. Commanders’ orders. Perhaps it’s being blessed?”
“I’m sure it’s a simple misunderstanding. I’ll go find him and get this straightened out.” Curiosity ran through his mind as he left the smithy. Why would Drakkus pick up his armor and not tell him?
“Prince Jinaari!” A young boy ran toward him. “The commander says you’re to meet him. I was sent to show you the way.”
“Is there a problem?”
“No, not that I know of. But he said you had to come with me right now.” The boy darted ahead then turned back around, waving his arm. “He’s this way.”
Something wasn’t right. Too many people addressing him by a title that he’d never used within the chapterhouse before, the armor had been collected but not returned to him. “Let’s go back to my quarters first. I need my sword.”
The boy’s eyes widened. “No, you can’t. You have to come. Now. That’s what the commander said.” He pulled on Jinaari’s hand.
First, no armor. Now, no weapon. It wasn’t ideal, but the boy was insistent. Sighing, Jinaari tousled the boy’s hair. “Fine. We’ll do it your way. Lead me to him.”
The boy led him through a few familiar tunnels, then veered down a seldom used passage. “Where are we going?”
“It’s not far. I promise.” The boy reached for a torch burning in a wall sconce. “The staircase is this way.”
They rounded another turn and came to a dead end. “Lad, there’s nothing here.”
“Are you certain, Althir?” Garret’s voice sounded from behind him.
Jinaari spun around and lowered his head. “My Lord.”
“Look again.”
Turning, there was now a sturdy wooden door, bound with iron, in the wall. Torches flanked it, flickering with an unnatural green light. His shield leaned against the door.
“Aust has escaped. He attacked one of the healers and ran. Your brothers were able to maneuver him into the maze. Find him, destroy him before he can get to the portal in the center. Do this, and you will be allowed to return to your companions.”
He picked up the shield, fastening the straps as he spoke. “I need my armor and sword, as well.”
“Everything you need is in that labyrinth.”
“That’s the test, then? Kill one Fallen, find my gear?”
“He’s held back, restrained himself from using all of his tricks. We limited his ability to cast, as well. Those restraints are gone. He won’t hold back from killing you. He wants to leave as much as you do. More so, as going back to Byd Cudd without Thia would be a death sentence for him.”
Jinaari looked back over his shoulder. “I will do this.”
“For Thia’s sake, I hope you do. You will get no help from me or Keroys once you enter. If you don’t succeed, death will not be swift or merciful. If Aust wins, so does Lolc Aon.”
Squaring his shoulders, he took a deep breath. Reaching out, he tugged at the large iron ring and swung the door open. He grabbed at one of the torches and crossed the threshold.
The door closed behind him on silent hinges. The sound of the bolt sliding into the lock, however, echoed down the stone corridor in front of Jinaari. The light from the torch in his hand only illuminated so much. It was also the only thing he had to defend himself.
He had no other armor or weapon beyond the shield, but he would find Aust. One of them wasn’t leaving this place alive. And it was going to be the Fallen. For the last week, he’d described things that would happen to Thia if she returned to Byd Cudd. Half of Jinaari’s desire to kill him was based off those horrors.
He’d promised two Gods, and Thia herself, to keep her safe. Which meant making sure this brother of hers never came near her.
Jinaari crept down the hallway, holding the torch in front of him. It would give him away, yes, but couldn’t be helped. After a week on the surface, Aust’s eyes had adjusted as well. He’d be almost as blind in the dark as he was. The difference was that he’d adapt faster.
As he followed a curve in the wall, the light bounced off a glint of metal. Settled into an alcove sat a suit of armor. He breathed a sigh of relief. He rested the torch against the wall and took a closer look. It appeared to be his. Not only had Henry buffed out the scratches, but he’d repaired a couple of straps. Removing the shield, he put it on, taking his time to buckle each piece securely.
Reaching back, he positioned the shield on the small hook before picking up the torch. He’d found his armor, but not his sword. With slow, deliberate motions he inspected the wall in front of him. Just above eye level, a small hole in the rock drew his attention. What’s this? Reaching inside, his hand touched a hilt. I found my armor here. It makes sense that my sword would be, as well. Pulling it free of the niche, he stared at it, puzzled. The supple leather belt and scabbard held a longsword, yes, but the hilt and grip were caked with rust and grime. The layers of age and neglect crumbled away from his touch. Drawing the weapon, a soft blue light shone from the blade itself. The steel was smooth and sharp, despite the condition.
“You won’t catch me, Althir!” Aust’s voice echoed through the corridor. “Thia will be brought before Lolc Aon and turned to her service. And I will be rewarded for it.”
“Over my dead body,” Jinaari muttered back. With sword in hand, he left the torch behind. He didn’t need it to hunt.