Part I - THE PRINCE

CHAPTER 4

Aldric needed to do something, anything, to chase away this unbearable feeling.

This wasn’t how his night was supposed to go. He had expected to walk into the throne room, have a brief congratulatory meeting with his father and the council, and then slip away to enjoy the remainder of the night. Meeting a Hajat for the first time—a Hajat who just so happened to be the King of Tanah—was a curveball he would have preferred avoiding. Not to mention, seeing his father, the most powerful man in Aguki, appear so meek had been an insulting slap to the face. Why had he behaved like that? What king coward in a corner, visibly frightened? Rodell had, for all his worth, looked like nothing more than a poor, weak, pitiful man.

It was enraging.

Aldric threw open the doors of his rooms and didn’t care when they hit the falls with a loud, resounding bang. They swung shut behind him just as loudly.

He wanted to scream. He needed to calm down. His mind couldn’t seem to decide what to do.

His body instinctively carried him towards the fireplace where a warm blaze greeted him. Aldric enjoyed the heat pressing against his face as he stared unseeingly into the embers. His hands fisted tightly at his sides as a pleasant warmth tingled through his limbs. He had always enjoyed fire. Not in a pyromaniac sort of way, but similar enough that his fascination would likely appear strange to others if he actually shared that part of himself with anyone.

When he had been younger, Aldric had tried to figure out what drew him to fire. Was it the inferno’s destructive temperament? The chaos and formless nature of the flames? The cocooning and comfortable pressure of the emitted heat? He didn’t know. He often speculated that it was a combination of everything.

But there was also a part of Aldric that wondered if maybe in a weird, distorted sort of way he wanted to be fire; a living embodiment of the uncontrollable, scorching element. Unlike water, fire unapologetically took on whatever shape it desired. Unlike air, fire had a visible and deadly presence even in the smallest degree. And unlike earth, fire was destructive in an all-consuming, exhaustive way. And yet, despite fire’s untamable danger, people still needed it.

And Aldric couldn’t deny that a large part of himself craved that fear and respect.

With a firm shake of his head, Aldric turned away from the flames and sighed loudly. His disappointment with his father was mounting as was his confusion. But Aldric knew he wouldn’t get any answers. He never did.

That would change tomorrow, though. Seventeen would liberate him and hopefully clear the fog that surrounded the council. He would know the court’s secrets and they would no longer be able to deny him when he asked questions.

With a mental shove, Aldric cleared his thoughts and ducked into his closet. He changed into some more casual clothes, a black tunic and pants, before slipping out of his rooms just as he had that morning. He shouldn’t have been surprised, though, to find Ewan waiting for him with his arms crossed.

“You going somewhere?” He asked while raising an eyebrow.

Aldric forced a laugh. “I am. You’re welcome to come along if you’d like.”

Ewan’s gaze narrowed and he opened his mouth to retort. However, whatever he’d been about to say went unheard because they were swiftly attacked by Brooke, who practically barreled into Ewan and Aldric, effectively shoving them back into the room. She slammed the door closed once Harpreet crossed the threshold, too.

Ewan froze at the sight of Aldric’s younger cousin.

Harpreet was as beautiful as she’d always been, something Ewan noted with a deep swallow. Her pale blonde hair looked white in the lighting and her blue eyes appeared nearly colorless. Combined with her pale complexion, she could easily be mistaken for a Nadnaf.

“Happy birthday, Aldric,” she said as a way of greeting. Smiling at Harpreet was always easy and Aldric stepped towards her happily, giving her a brief hug. He’d forgotten how small she was, her head barely coming up to his chest. And if he was honest, bending down to embrace her tediously hurt his back. Regardless of his annoyance and discomfort, though, Aldric’s welcoming grin remained in place, shining just like King Cirillo’s crown.

“How were your travels, Harpreet?” Aldric asked once he’d released her and stepped away. Briefly, he glanced to the side to sneak a look at Ewan. A wave of smug satisfaction washed over him after noting the other boy’s evident misery. Harpreet on the other hand was composed and lovely, hands clasped in front of her and a sweet smile gracing her pink lips.

“It was okay,” she said with a shrug. “Long, if I’m honest. The carriage broke down twice, too, so I was partially afraid that we were going to be late.”

“Yes, yes, it’s wonderful that you weren’t,” Brooke said, loudly interrupting their conversation. With a touch of irritation, Aldric acknowledged his sister with a raise of his eyebrow. She didn’t seem to notice her rudeness, as usual, and stepped into the space between them and began pacing. “I just overheard something interesting.”

“A bit of gossip is why you dragged me down the hallway without explanation?” There was a subtle laugh in Harpreet’s tone as she spoke and the corner of her mouth tilted up in amusement. With a shake of her head, she looked toward Aldric. “I barely got out of the carriage before she was grabbing my arm and hauling me into the palace. I didn’t even get a proper greeting.”

Aldric allowed himself a genuine laugh despite his desire to scold Brooke for her behavior. He could appreciate his sister’s candor, but he could barely tolerate her lack of decorum. It was a poor reflection on the royal family.

“It’s really good gossip, though.” Brooke had to swallow a squeal as she clapped her hands excitedly. “I was just casually walking the halls this afternoon looking for something to do when I stumbled upon some of the advisors having a little chitchat.” Which meant she’d been snooping. Aldric took a calming and faint inhale through his nose as he bite his tongue. He’d yell at her later. “They were discussing the potential kingdom representatives that would be attending tomorrow.”

Okay, maybe he wouldn’t yell at her.

Aldric’s heart rate accelerated rapidly and he didn’t even try to conceal his interest.

“What did you manage to learn?” Harpreet asked, her enthusiasm quickly matching Brooke’s.

“Well,” Brooke began with a devilish smile slipping onto his face. “It would seem that the rep from Titria is going to be Princess Riko.”

Harpreet audibly gasped. “Oh, I’m so excited to see her. I hear she’s absolutely gorgeous!”

Having never met anyone official or otherwise who didn’t reside in Aguki, Aldric had no idea whether or not Riko Iseya was beautiful. He’d never even seen a portrait of her. But Aldric’s education had encompassed an extensive review of every kingdom throughout Eskela. He’d been required to learn everything there was to know about the other royal families in aggravating detail.

Riko Iseya was the first princess of Titria and the only daughter of Queen Consort Natsumi Ueda. True, most accounts described her as being an incredibly alluring woman of twenty years with sharp eyes, clear skin, and full lips. But according to palace rumors, she was anything but pleasant. The longest she’d managed to keep a lady-in-waiting was four months and several other staff members had quit after accusing the princess of harassment. Most didn’t blame King Daisuke, though, for his daughter’s behavior. They reasoned that in a family where the father had four wives one of the offspring was bound to turn out rotten.

“What else did you happen to overhear?” Aldric mentally slapped himself for allowing the eagerness in his voice to slip. This was the most that he’d learned about the guestlist for tomorrow's celebration. Brooke gave him a sly, knowing smile.

“Well, Lukipia was going to send Prince Gwydion, but Queen Eleonore is sick again, so he’ll be remaining behind with her. They’re sending Countess Tegan instead.” Though meeting the Lukipia Crown Prince would have been exciting and a better investment of his time, the Countess wasn’t a terrible substitution. Tegan Ridcully was the younger sister to the queen and was in charge of most of Lukipia’s exports.

“And Tanah?” Harpreet practically whispered.

Aldric wasn’t sure who he wanted to visit from Tanah. After meeting King Cirillo the idea of interacting with another Hajat so soon made his stomach turn.

Brooke sighed loudly and—in Aldric’s opinion—very dramatically. She migrated towards Aldric’s sitting area and threw herself onto one of the seat cushions, extending herself over the entire couch with a large stretch. Harpreet migrated after her, brushing past the statue of Ewan without even a sideways glance. Aldric snorted into his hand, quickly concealing it as a cough.

“That part I didn’t hear,” Brooke said glumly as Aldric and Harpreet took seats in the side chairs. A brief silence passed over them as they each contemplated the possible identity of Tanah’s representative.

Harpreet nearly jumped out of her seat when Brooke suddenly launched herself into a sitting position.

“You don’t think they’ll send her, do you?” Aldric didn’t need to ask Brooke who she meant. They all already knew who she was.

Despite limited communication between the kingdoms, even the most uninformed citizens of Aguki knew who Cahira Andrade was. She was more than just Tanah’s third princess, she was their Feardon—a title bestowed to the most powerful of Hajats.

“It’s unlikely,” Aldric eventually said after an extended quiet. “Cahira hasn’t been seen in public since her fiancé's death.”

“It’s terrible what happened to her,” Harpreet whispered empathetically. “For him to be murdered the night before their wedding…”

Aldric didn’t offer his opinion on the subject. He knew the bare minimum when it came to Cahira and her engagement to Prince Lloyd Tremaine. The two had kept their relationship private, and most people had been incredibly surprised when they announced their impending union. All Aldric really knew for sure was that their wedding would have united Tanah with the kingdom Aitheles.

“How do you know she wasn’t the one to kill him?” Brooke asked, clearly not feeling as emotional about the subject as Harpreet.

“Why would she have killed him?” Harpreet asked, genuinely puzzled. Her nose scrunched up as she glared at Brooke, clearly annoyed with her cousin. Aldric leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. He tried not to look too amused at their bickering.

“Who knows?” Brooke retorted. “She’s a monster, isn’t she? Maybe she just enjoys killing.”

Harpreet rolled her eyes. “So just because she’s strong she’s automatically a monster?”

Aldric didn’t point out to his cousin that Cahira Andrade wasn’t merely just “strong.” It was said that a Hajat like her hadn’t been born in nearly four hundred years. Her Imperium was cable of bringing cities to their knees. She had done exactly that the day she discovered Lloyd was dead. The city of Farraleon, the place his body had been found, was nothing more than rubble and debris.

The strength bestowed upon Cahira by her Race’s attributes wasn’t the only aspect of her that labeled her as a threat. She was uniquely and uncommonly close with individuals from various kingdoms; all of who were powerful, wealthy, and royal. Aldric didn’t know the details of who ran in the famed Feardon’s circle—who she was closest with or how those relationships came to be—but he did understand at least that Cahira, despite not being the heir to Tanah, had weight and influence throughout the entirety of Eskela.

“Why does it even matter?” Ewan suddenly said with a sigh, interrupting Harpreet and Brooke’s brewing debate. Both girls turned to the knight and glared. Ewan was unfazed by their agitation and merely crossed his arms over his chest. Aldric commended him for the casual stance he took against the far wall, but there was an evident strain to the corner of his eyes and the column of his throat that belied his discomfort with the topic being discussed. It was as if Ewan feared that the simple mention of Cahira Andrade would suddenly summon her before them.

“Why doesn’t it matter?” Brooke snapped, immediately becoming defensive. It was clear that despite her apprehension at the prospect of the Feardon being Tanah’s representative, she was also somewhat anticipating such an unexpected arrival. And Aldric couldn’t lie. The idea of meeting someone like Cahira Andrade was exciting to him, too.

“Because, like Aldric pointed out,” Ewan noted with a tilt of his head in Aldric’s direction. “The Tanah Feardon hasn’t been seen in public for two years. Unless she’s summoned directly by King Cirillo—which is usually only in cases where she’s needed to intimidate or threaten someone—she never shows her face. Her attending a birthday party is not only unlikely, but it’s also laughable.”

The words had barely left Ewan’s mouth before Brooke’s or Harpreet’s began badgering him for his word choice. It seemed both girls were under the impression that Aldric’s ensuing silence meant he was insulted by Ewan’s statement. And though the comment could very easily be misconstrued negatively, Aldric understood that it was simply an admission of fact.

However, that didn’t motivate him to intercede in the subsequent argument.

With a slight smirk, Aldric leaned even further into the cushions, soaking up the warmth of the nearby fireplace while folding his arms across his stomach. He watched with twisted satisfaction as his sister and cousin reamed Ewan, demanding he apologize for his insensitivity. Aldric honestly didn’t care, but the discomfort on Ewan’s face made having to stay in the palace tonight at least semi-entertaining.