Chapter Twenty-Four

The past few days had been good for King Esterling. His mind felt clearer, and the voice left him mostly alone. Except for a few nudges, like the night on the Span when it told him when to move out of range of the sniper, it had stayed out of his head. He was thankful for that, even if it had refused to offer details like who the assassin may be.

He stood taller, with excitement adding a bounce to his feet and urgency in his mood. His friends were nearby, in his palace—dear comrades he had not laid eyes upon in seventeen years. Eusari had arrived, and so did Sippen and Krill. Seeing them would stir memories of card games, fine wine, and adventure. But most of all Marita was there, that sweet but odd child had grown up and he couldn’t wait to hear her stories. No doubt they would entertain him for hours.

“Hurry,” he commanded his body servants. Their meticulous actions needed speed if he were to make the most of the only night he had to reminisce. Tonight was for him, and he would arrive earlier than normal. This may be his final celebration if the voice were to be believed.

Of course I’m to be believed, it replied, wiping the smile from his face in an instant. The ringing laughter it left behind caused his body to flinch, pulling is arm away from a servant.

“I wasn’t finished, Your Highness.”

“What?” he asked, surprised to hear an actual person speak. “Oh.” He presented his arm to receive cufflinks.

The door to his chamber opened and Percy Roan entered.

“Ah! Your Highness! I see you’ve already dressed!”

“No affairs of state tonight, Percy, unless war is on our doorstep or something else equally dire is imminent. I’ve a party to attend.”

“Yes, my lord! The entire nobility is present and excited to learn why you announced a ball with two days’ notice. The palace staff pulled it off, though, and the great hall is magnificent!”

“Wonderful!” Amash beamed. Though he hated extravagance, he had ordered none of it be spared for this gala.

“Sire?” Percy pressed, “when will you be sharing the reason you ordered such an event? You don’t ever keep me in the dark, and I must say I’m perplexed.”

“You will learn tonight, along with the others.” The attendants finished fluffing his finery, and he stepped forward, holding his arm out for his chancellor. “Lead me to my party, Percy!”

Robert stood beside his mother, awestruck by her beauty inside the ball gown. Black and flowing, it matched her raven hair now washed and teased to gracefully curve around and accentuate the roundness of her face. It was magnificent, resplendent with sparkling emeralds that perfectly matched the hue of her eyes. She glowed with nobility, despite living her entire life either at sea or upon her modest farm.

“Relax,” she told him.

“How?” he asked. “I’m shaking in my shoes. This is all too much.” He fiddled with his ascot and she smacked his hand playfully.

“At least learn to look the part like me. Be in control no matter what. Speak very little, and remember your best defense against conversation is boredom.” She paused, then smiled devilishly. “And no matter what, do not attempt to dance tonight, no matter how beautiful the asker. You must remain an enigma to these nobles, and each of their approaches will be to size you up. Give them nothing.”

“That’s tougher than it sounds.”

“I know, but it’s all you must do tonight. Don’t give them anything about you, no matter what.”

The line stepped forward as the doormen announced the Duke and Lady Winston of Eston. They were a proud house, one of the richest in attendance, or so Marita explained.

“How would you know?” Caroline demanded from behind her.

Marita and Charleigh both turned and gave her looks of exaggerated pity before yawning simultaneously and fanning their bosoms. Robert tried so hard not to stare at those, but, being a young man celebrating his seventeenth summer, failed miserably.

Both women were strikingly beautiful and were, in his opinion, the best dressed in attendance. Though the gowns were cut entirely differently, they appeared to come from the same bolt of royal purple silk. How they had come upon such expensive gowns in a single day baffled him since they appeared to be sewn into them. These were certainly custom designs and they each appeared to be true royalty.

Caroline, in her simply cut sky blue gown with gold trim matching a ruby set necklace, attempted to gain ground on the women. “Where did you steal that jewelry, anyway? There’s no way either of you were given permission to borrow it... Oh, I understand, they’re costume designs. I should have realized by the gaudiness.”

Robert had also wondered how they were trusted to borrow such expensive jewels. Marita wore a tiara of diamonds weighing at least fifty carats. Charleigh’s, though daintier to match her shorter frame, had that many as well as a perfectly set stone the same purple as her gown.

Eusari stood next to go in with Robert, but Marita, ignoring Caroline, tapped his mother on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, Lady Eusari, but we must be announced before Robert. Our station demands it.”

Eusari stepped aside with a smile and waved them ahead while Caroline snickered.

Marita, with a wave of flair, handed her calling card to the doorman. He read it several times and scanned both women with wide eyed appraisal before cueing up the fanfare. Everyone in attendance turned as if the king himself had arrived.

“Noble ladies and gentlemen, please bow and curtsy in Andalonian acceptance of the official arrival and presentation of the eligible Princesses Marita and Charleigh Pogue, the youngest daughters of his royal highness, King Alec Pogue, the Supreme Ruler of Cargia and Emperor of the Unified Southern Continent.”

Robert watched as the women each turned and winked at a shocked and disbelieving Caroline before gliding into the room with every eye fixated upon them. They glided. By every meaning of the word, Marita bore them upon a cushion of air and they flew upon it several inches above the ground. Every person in the room gasped and then cheered the spectacle.

“No!” Caroline protested. “That must be a lie! And that’s not really flying! It’s a trick!”

“Actually no, Caroline, it’s not a lie,” Eusari explained casually. “Emperor Pogue recently expanded his holdings to the cascading islands in the furthest reaches of the south. Also, with their older sisters all married, this really is their official presentation of their eligibility for Andalonian suitors.” Eusari beckoned Robert forward. “You will enter before me, as you are the last announcement of the night. The rest of us will enter as minor nobles and merchants. The only presentation after you shall be the king.”

“What do I do?”

Eusari handed his card to the doorman and whispered, “Walk to the back of the room as if you own it, then find a prominent spot to stand and await me. I will be right behind you.”

He nodded, then flinched when the fanfare erupted once more. The stare given him by the doorman brought alarming uneasiness, afraid now of what the card would read.

“My ladies and gentlemen of Andalon and the gathered nobility of Eston, please kneel for the presentation of Prince Robert Esterling, the son of Robert and Sarai Esterling, and grandson of Emperor Charles and Lady Crestal Esterling.”

The room fell immediately silent and every person in attendance froze in place. From the center of the ballroom, Marita and Charleigh spun in unison and genuflected deeply before Robert, sending the entire room into a wave as every knee followed suit. He strolled in just as his mother instructed, as if owning the room and focused on a particular spot in the back of it.

Hushed whispers followed in his wake, “The true heir!” some said.

“The imposter!” others exclaimed.

Robert ignored these and other utterings, following his path just as instructed. But he was soon mortified to learn the path he had picked took him directly beside a grand dais with two thrones set atop. He turned and stood awkwardly while simultaneously trying to appear casual. Unfortunately, he had ended up standing directly next to a very surprised nobleman.

The man appraised him, staring him up and down, before stating simply, “My, but aren’t you a spitting image of your father but with your mother’s eyes. It’s as if I only saw them yesterday.”

“And you are?” Robert asked indifferently, hoping to appear bored like Eusari instructed.

“I’m Percy Roan, of Weston, the Royal Chancellor of the Estonian Kingdom.”

Robert panicked when he realized he spoke with the second most important man in the kingdom. Act bored, he told himself, yawning and looking away. He then waited like all the others for the king’s imminent arrival. He felt the man’s eyes burning into the side of his head but refused to speak with the chancellor. Thankfully, the monarch appeared quickly, breaking the nobleman’s waiting stare.

The fanfare eclipsed the combined symphony that greeted both the prince and princesses, and the room once more fell into full genuflection as King Esterling arrived. He walked into the room exactly as Robert had, with purpose and direction as if the room belonged to him, which, in this case, it actually did. To Robert’s horror, the ruler was headed his way.

The king appraised him, grinned, then placed an arm around the boy as he turned to face the stunned crowd. Every eye in the ballroom blinked as the king and chancellor stood with a disinherited son of a revolutionary prince.

“Hello, Prince Robert,” the king whispered.

Prince? Robert wondered. I’m really just a farm boy who yearns to be an engineer. He, like every person in the room, waited for the monarch to speak.

Eusari watched as Amash began his speech. Years ago he was an eloquent speaker, schooled in rhetoric as well as knowledgeable about law and discord. Unfortunately, the last speech she had heard him utter had landed upon a tone-deaf audience. She prayed tonight’s would resonate big with the nobility.

“Tonight is an occasion I’ve awaited my entire reign to announce,” Amash began. “I accepted my lot in life with zero ambition, a bit of resentment, and confusion over how I had been elevated to lead the Estonian Kingdom much less all of Andalon.” With his arm around a worried but composed Robert, he went on. “Some of you have wondered why I’ve not taken a bride since my ascension or why I have not produced an heir by other means...”

Eusari knew. That detail only she figured out, as not even Braen had realized his friend had died and was controlled by another. After the final battle had ended, the controlling voice had revealed himself to her. Sickened and horrified she had listened to his plan, but agreed, and promised him Robert. She cringed at the memory Amash would never share with her, dreading the moment she would hear that voice again.

The Deceiver, she thought unfondly of the man, the voice who puppeteered the king’s movements and mind whenever it chose. She had heard his voice many times before and never worried, until it proclaimed itself from inside another before Braen’s echo was struck down.

The voice speaking was indeed Amash’s, and she relaxed.

“My announcement is the chastity I chose for myself as king,” he said, “a burden sure, but a guarantee Andalon would never be denied its true ruler when he came of age. I am truly an Esterling, the son of Charles but not the heir you deserve. That heir is this young man, Robert, the son of Robert and my half-sister Sarai.”

The crowd murmured and Eusari heard mention of madness or senility.

“It’s true that I am the son of Charles, his bastard with the Lady Horslei, but not the heir promised to his true wife Crestal. No, that child married my sister and I vowed to abdicate my rule once the true heir reached his age.”

The crowd muttered again, this time of blasphemy and betrayal. Eusari felt panic rise and reached for the knives she’d so cleverly hidden among various places in her gown.

“But I am a man of my word, a true Esterling in the sense I’ve kept my promise. Through my own valiant efforts at the conclusion of the Brother’s War, I present to you the son of Charles’ true heir, the lineage to supersede his bastard. I present Robert, son of Robert my half-brother, as my heir and successor. He will be crowned Robert I of Eston, the true Emperor of Andalon. He is my sole remaining relative and therefore already entitled to my fortune. He will become the King of Estonia upon my death or abdication upon the celebration of his seventeenth summer, whichever comes first. I decree that Percy Roan shall serve as regent for one year until the witan agrees Robert is ready.”

The voice, Eusari recognized, lurked beneath Amash’s own, and she remembered the man whom Braen respected but she barely knew. Though she hated to peer into a human aura, a gift she discovered later in life and sheerly by accident, Eusari intruded upon the king. Sadness filled her at once. Oh, that she had this ability when it mattered most, to recognize the animated husks that wreaked havoc upon the revolution. They, like this one, had set Andalon upon a path to this very moment. One that ensured the future of Robert.

Amash won’t last much longer than summer, she knew. His offer of abdication would not matter; the Deceiver would ensure he died shortly after Robert officially came of age. You almost fooled me, she told the voice in case he listened to her. Of course he couldn’t. She was very much alive and well cutoff from his link to Astia.

Amash finished speaking to the room and turned to Robert. “Surprised?” he asked.

“I am,” the boy admitted shyly, “but the emotion of it has already passed. Mother prepared me for this moment during our talks upon the voyage. She instructed me how to act when you announced it. It still feels weird, though.” He cocked his head, as if a thought had only just reached him. “Why would you abdicate so soon? I’m nearly seventeen already, and that’s not nearly enough time.”

“I’m dying,” the king confessed in a whisper so low the chancellor would not hear. He quickly put a finger to his lips to keep that fact a secret even from Roan.

Dead already, you mean, the voice corrected.

“I’m sorry,” Robert said, reminding Amash of Sarai, his sister and the boy’s mother. Losing her would have broken him had he not passed first.

“Don’t be...” The king slapped the boy on the shoulder encouragingly. “Rest assured, you will be instructed properly. Cuyler will draw out the abilities you’ll need, and Percy here will teach you how to rule. He did a good enough job on me, so I’m certain he’ll do well with you.”

“My lord,” Percy Roan said, feigning modesty. “You were already well-schooled in the finer points before I dedicated my aid.” Leaning in, he ignored Robert and whispered scolds to Amash as if the boy were not even there. “What is this?” he demanded. “You’re healthy enough to continue ruling! He is a boy, not ready at all!”

“Train him, Percy.” the king commanded in a low voice. “He’s yours to groom, as long as it’s for Andalon and not your other schemes.”

“Schemes? My lord! I swear I have none!” the chancellor protested quietly.

Amash left the two to converse alone, explaining before striding off, “I’ve been waiting seventeen years to complete a conversation with Eusari, please excuse me while I do.”

Eusari watched Amash approach with that faraway look. She had seen it before, many years ago when the dead rose and walked among them.

The Deceiver addressed her directly.

“Hello, Eusari,” the voice said pleasantly. It had not changed, still full of his self-righteous arrogance and a bit of boredom.

“Hmm,” she replied indifferently. “So you deny me a conversation with my old friend?”

“You will speak with me and Amash will remember a wonderful conversation afterward, one full of memories of his adventures you never actually discussed.”

“How long has he been a husk? That part I never understood.”

“Since that day he died upon the pier.”

“Sippen told me you were behind everything, but part of me found it difficult to believe. You deceived us, making us believe our work was for Andalon.”

“It was all for Andalon, which is out of reach now from Astia. Their Falconers are gone and have no means by which to make more.”

“Robert encountered Falconers.”

“Those were not from Astia. Well, not directly.”

“So Astia is not returning? You can promise me that?”

“Their ruling council fears your emotants enough not to try open attack but, eventually they will try again. Just not in the way they did before and not for a very long time. When they come it will be after Robert’s reign, I’ve taken precautions to ensure that.”

“For now.”

“For now,” the voice speaking from Amash agreed.

“So this isn’t about how you plan to control Andalon?”

“This is not about my ambition, for I will be gone from this world soon. I will cease to exist the moment Amash does, too. No, it was always about Andalon, especially for the children. Thank you for ensuring all of them survived.”

“So you include Braen’s as well? Even if that child could be the destroyer of Astia?”

“Of course I mean Braen’s, but especially Robert’s, Taros’, and even Skander’s,” the voice replied.

Eusari froze, silenced by the news. She had long wondered, wanting to trust Braen had not laid with his former queen, but always doubted.

“You loved Braen so much despite believing he laid with her,” the voice said, edged with amusement, “and I was certain that belief would ensure the child’s survival, so I said nothing to correct your beliefs. She had tricked him, made him believe they had, but your lover never betrayed you. Eusari, you trusted Braen in every other way, why did you never trust him in that regard?”

“In my heart I wanted to,” she admitted, “but that’s too much for a woman to believe about her man...” Though he had professed his love, Braen had loved Hester far longer than she. Also, he had never denied the two had reconnected. “Why did you allow me to think otherwise if you knew?”

“Nature versus nurture. I knew you’d raise the child as your own if you believed him Braen’s.”

“You’re full of evil.”

“What will you do with this knowledge now, Eusari?”

“Nothing at all. A mother loves her children equally.”

“But he’s not yours.”

“Of course he is.”

“Until he threatens your own,” the voice explained.

“I love them both, because of your deceit. Is that why you used Amash to kill him?”

“You know better than that. Amash did not kill your lover.”

“No,” she agreed. “It wasn’t him Amash killed.”

“I ask you again, what will you do with this knowledge?”

“Nothing, you bastard!” she spat. “I’ll love him as my own son, as I always have.”

“He needs you now, yet you are here.”

“I leave in the morning.”

“Better you left tonight.”

“I cannot.”

“Then it’s too late for your son. He will never be the same by the time you reach them...”

The husk of Amash turned as Marita and Charleigh approached. Both women knelt with broad smiles across their faces. The husk changed instantly into the man, filling with his own lifeforce and addressing the women.

“Marita! I was just talking with Eusari about our travels to Eskera! My goodness, you and Charleigh have grown into women!”

“Charleigh is quite the engineer,” Robert said, joining them after leaving a sulky Percy Roan across the room. “She’s contrived traps and weapons only Marita can use when fighting.”

“Quite interesting,” either Amash or the voice answered. “I would love to know more. Marita, do you still practice the way of the swordsman?”

“Of course, don’t be silly,” the woman replied. “Alec and I run a school in Cargia. I’ve elevated five masters who currently instruct twenty adepts.”

“I’m proud,” the king beamed with a smile, “and quite jealous.” He patted his over-sized belly. “I’ve not been able to maintain proficiency with so many distractions.” He looked around the room. “Where are Sippen and Krill? Did they come?”

“They are with the ship. We could not find the weapons we needed in Loganshire,” Robert explained.

“Weapons? We’re not in a war, and you’re not a pirate any longer, Eusari. Why in the name of Cinder do you need weapons?”

“Devil Jacque,” Marita sneered. “He pressed Franque and Krist into his crew unwillingly.”

“Pirate hunting is unsanctioned,” Amash warned. “I cannot condone...”

“I’ve a constable aboard, and we’re all deputized,” Eusari snapped quickly, eager to end the conversation. “And that’s the reason we cannot remain another night.”

“I completely understand,” the king replied sadly, “but please visit again soon. And bring Sippen and Krill!”

“We will. And Amash? I have one more favor to ask.”

“Of course! Anything for you!”

“I trust your Dreamers and your guardsmen to protect Robert, but he is alone without friends. Sebastian has been like an older brother to him his entire life. I ask that he be assigned as his personal attendant and concierge.”

“Sebastian...” Amash stared unblinking into the room. “The boy, of course! He rode with Braen and protected Charleigh and the youngest Dreamers!”

“The same.” Eusari nodded.

“I will instruct Percy to make it so.”

As if on cue the man approached. “Make what so, sire?”

“Prince Robert has arrived with a personal concierge. He is to remain in that role exclusively. No one has direct access to him except through Sebastian.”

The chancellor bowed deeply. “It is done, sire.”

The women curtsied and Robert bowed his thanks as the king departed, aiming to settle the curiosity shared by every noble in the room. Eusari watched him leave, this shadow of a man who was once Braen’s friend.

A husk, she corrected her thoughts, not even a shadow. Braen was the shadow, but this man is only a glimmer. A shudder ran down her spine as she added, and I’m leaving Robert in his care.