COINNEACH CASTLE—

THE KINGDOM OF VANDOLAY
1238 CE

Orlynd, please accept my apologies,” Déor began, approaching the bed. “I know you have just woken, but I must inquire about something you said earlier with urgency.”

“Yir Grace?” Orlynd asked, confused, sitting up.

“Earlier, you said, ‘When dual warlocks of royal blood reflect their image, a time of great peril will commence. One who is coerced will seek the betrayal of power. The energy of magic will serve the bearer who brings peace.’ Please, I beseech you, what does this all mean?”

Orlynd gave Déor a confused glance. “Ah apologise, Yir Grace. Ah’m afraid Ah dinnae recall whit yis speak ay, though Ah recall ma father said Ah spoke thit once before.”

Déor blinked, disbelief in his face. “Yes. My father said your eyes would…” Déor paused and ran his hand though his hair, “forgive me, I cannot think of any other way to describe them other than looking like flames. I doubted your legitimacy, and for that I apologise with the utmost sincerity to both you and my father. I have disgraced his memory. However, I do question your prediction. You spoke of warlocks with royal blood. There has never been a warlock in the royal family. May this perhaps been instead a warning that Aracelly means to invade my kingdom to end my reign? Certainly you must know.”

Orlynd frowned. “Ah dinnae know, Yir Grace. Lord Kaeto told me nothing about an invasion.”

“I see,” Déor answered, disappointed. Perhaps Orlynd had spoken something he should not, and now was lying to cover his tracks. After the way he had treated the warlock, he could not blame him if he hated him. “I understand if you do not wish to clarify. I have given you no reason to believe you have earned my love. I admit I have wronged you. I was a terrible prince and I have not been a good king. This will change. I promise you and everyone else in this room, to be a good king, as my father was before me. God spared your life so that I may be able to fulfil this vow. I realise I will not be able to do this alone. I require my conscious by my side, but most important of all, I need the one that shall forever from this day forward be called my friend. Please, Orlynd, forgive me.”

Mortain and Mierta exchanged uncomfortable glances at their king’s words.

“Ah forgive yis, Yir Grace.”

Déor decided to press a bit more. “Tell me, Orlynd, what is the last thing you remember?”

“The last thing Ah remember,” Orlynd said, struggling to recall, “Ah peered intae the goblet n’ Ah realised at thit moment whit Ah had foreseen in ma Rite ay Wands wid never come tae be. Ah wid nae be thir tae save ma king.”

“Save me? Save me how? Please, explain!” Déor urged.

“He can’t,” Mierta stated, interrupting, crossing his arms.

“Nonsense! Of course he can. I am the king,” Déor retorted.

“Mierta is right, Your Grace,” Mortain answered. “Discussion of The Rite of Wands isn’t permitted. Lord Kaeto forbids it.”

“Then, your Lord will make an exception. If my life is in danger, I should know about it!”

“With due respect, Your Grace, you already do. Someone deliberately poisoned your goblet. If Your Highness had drunk from the goblet instead, your life may have been forfeit. Therefore, Orlynd’s wish to save you has already been fulfilled. You can ask no more of him.”

“Yes, I suppose you are right. He has already proven his loyalty and therefore shall be appropriately rewarded,” Déor stated. He reached into his tunic and pulled out a freshly inked scroll. “I, Déor, King of Vandolay, hereby decree the O’Brien name shall be cleared of all wrong–doing, and hence forth be forever welcome in my court.”

Orlynd was deeply touched by the king’s kindness; however, his mind was not at ease.

Déor noticed Orlynd’s troubled expression. “I’m afraid that doesn’t mean your father can return since it was my father who exiled him.”

“Ah understand, Yir Grace, n’ Ah thank yis fir yir gesture. However, thit is nae whit troubles me,” Orlynd replied. He could feel an imminent darkness lingering over the kingdom, and if his Rite of Wands had been accurate, war was still to come.

“What is it? If there is something else I may be able to do, say the word,” Déor said.

Orlynd half–smiled at Déor. “Ah suppose it wid be tae much tae ask fir an upgrade in living facilities?” he joked.