“My uncle?” Kaeto said, his tone incredulous. “I have no uncle.”

The haetnellian man just smiled. “Get him to his feet,” he said to the two other soldiers, and they moved to obey. Kaeto tried to rise on his own, but they were on him before he could even bring his arm up to the bed, grabbing his forearms and lifting him. Their grip was firm but not harsh. They were almost gentle, in fact. Kaeto scowled at them, and they just guided him forward towards the door.

The prince turned his head towards Keros. “Keep her safe,” he said. He was turned away and ushered out the door before he could see or hear the other man’s response, the door shutting between them with a solid thunk.

“Your girl will be fine,” the haetnellian said. “Don’t worry.”

“Sorry, but that’s not exactly reassuring,” Kaeto replied, but the man only smiled.

The street around them was nearly deserted in the dark of early night, not so much as a candle flame to illuminate the sandstone cobbles. They were on the southern side of the city, Kaeto noted as they walked away from the small hut of a house, likely the gerin quarters nestled behind the noble mansions. It was still too dark in the moonless post-twilight, and the cobblestones underfoot were still uncomfortably warm with the day’s heat.

The citadel plateau was a dark silhouette to the north, not a single light shining from its parapets. It was relatively silent in the streets, the wind the loudest whisper on the cobbles. They passed several other groups of Haetnellian’s in their blue tabards as they walked further into the city, either on patrol or heading to their beds and pallets for their rest break, Kaeto couldn’t tell.

They stopped five blocks away from the small prison house at an equally small hut that was nearly indistinguishable save for the small potted cactus beside the door. “Inside,” the captain said with a wave to his men, and they obeyed, pushing the door open and guiding Kaeto inside.

There was only a single candle in the small room, but it was enough to give the space shape. There was a bed, a writing desk, and a travel chest, but otherwise, the room was bare. The windows were shuttered, the small hearth empty save for flakes of long-dead ash. A man stood beside the hearth, a sheaf of parchment in his hands. He looked up as they entered, Kaeto half stumbling over the threshold but saved by the soldier on his left.

A slight spark of recognition flashed through Kaeto’s mind as he looked at the man. He was tall, with the dark complexion and thick red hair lined with a streak of silver typical of varin and haetnellian blood. His gunmetal eyes glinted in the candlelight as his gaze shifted from his parchment to Kaeto. His mind stilled at the glance. It was eerily like his mother’s had been so long ago, demanding and full of sharp determination, but where she had been cactus spikes and desert flowers, he was stone and steel.

The soldiers all dropped to one knee as the man looked them over, their heads bowed. Kaeto just stood, partly from surprise shock and partly from a half-forgotten spark of determination.

“This is the prince of stars?” The man asked, voice deep and rumbling as a collapsing sand dune.

“Yes, my lord. As you requested,” the presumed captain replied succinctly.

“So, you’re the man who claims to be my ‘uncle’ then?” Kaeto said, holding the man’s stare. The older haetnellian’s gaze hadn’t drifted from him since Kaeto had entered the room.

“Well,” the man began. “You’re mother was my sister. That would make you my nephew, would it not?” His voice was calm, words relaxed and measured as he spoke.

A muscle in Kaeto’s jaw flexed at the outrage. “Are you mocking me? I was warned of such things. Let me tell you now, ‘uncle,’ I do not take kindly to those who make mock of my mother’s memory.”

A slight smile danced at the corner of the man's mouth. “Whether you believe me or not, boy, my words are true. Can you not see the resemblance between her and I? We are kin, boy. We share a lineage written into the stones of the great archive. Come now, look at yourself. There is so much of my mother in your face. I only wish we could have spared you Galdrin’s tainted blood.”

Kaeto snorted. “I cannot believe it. No royal blooded man would ever turn against his kingdom. You are nothing but a fraud, a lookalike chosen to trick me.”

The man’s expression seemed to sag at Kaeto’s words, and he sighed. “Come, boy, sit with me. There is much we must discuss. Captain John, you and your men, are excused.”

Straightening, the captain saluted, as did his two men, but they did not leave. “Pardon me, my lord,” the captain said. “But would it not be better for at least me to stay? It would be foolish of me to leave you alone with an enemy.”

“An enemy who has no hands and is half-starved?” The man said. “Please, captain, have some faith in your king.”

The captain stiffened. “My apologies, my lord, but might we not at least stand guard outside?” The ‘king’ nodded, and the captain gestured towards his men. “Come, we will wait outside the opposite building.”

The three left the room, closing the door behind them. Kaeto could hear their retreating boot steps as they crossed the street. He did not sit down when the man moved one of the two chairs to the side of his writing desk.

“Come, sit. You must be tired from all you’ve been through,” the man said, tone just as cool as before.

Kaeto still did not move to obey. “Thank you, but I have had enough time to rest in my cell these last few days. I think I’ll stand.” In reality, Kaeto wasn’t sure how much longer his shaking legs would support his weight. There was still a heavy leaden ache to his muscles from whatever had happened to him. It felt almost as if he’d been hit by a speeding carriage.

The man shook his head as he sat at his desk. “As stubborn as your mother and father both, I see. Well, if you will not sit then, you will not sit, I suppose.” He sighed, and Kaeto suddenly saw the weariness washed across his features. Suddenly he asked, “who did that to your hands?”

“Nobody,” Kaeto replied before thinking. He shook his head and looked down at the stumps at the ends of his arms. He said nothing more, afraid of giving the man too much information, and moved to sit in the chair across from him. It was a simple motion, but it made his uncle smile. It was that smile that proved the man’s blood for the prince.

“Why?” Kaeto asked, scrunching his brow in confusion. “Why are you fighting for the haetnellians?”

His uncle was quiet for a long moment before shaking his head with a slow caution. “They fight for me. I am their king, legally elected by our own council.”

“There is nothing legal about a rebellious council,” Kaeto said, and his uncle shrugged.

“It is a relative thing, not worth debating.” His uncle studied Kaeto for a moment, then asked, “what do you know of how this war began?”

Kaeto thought for a moment, bringing the stumps of his arms together in a habitual motion. He flushed at the mistake and rested his arms in his lap instead. “As much as any varin would know, more, I suppose,” he said, then thought for a few seconds more, trying to recall his lessons. “If I recall correctly, there was a large political faction that felt dissatisfied by the council’s electing of my father. There were petitions and threats from the lesser freemen leading up to the election, and there were a few instances of rioting. Buildings were destroyed, trade was interrupted, but there were few notable casualties, somewhat standard for such instability, I suppose. It was stupid, really if you think about it, all that chaos over a man who would ultimately have very little power.”

His uncle nodded slowly, a slight frown creasing his brow. “Do you know why the people were up in arms?”

“Fear? Petty Jealousy? Does it really matter? They turned against their own. Nothing could justify that kind of betrayal.”

The frown on his uncle's face deepened. “You are the prince of stars, are you not?”

Kaeto returned his frown. “I am, but I do not see the relevance here.”

“Just listen and answer my questions,” his uncle said testily. “What do you know of the king’s position in court?”

Suddenly, Kaeto remembered who he was speaking with. “I won't share state or military secrets with you, no matter what you do,” he said, trying to put ice behind his words.

His uncle closed his eyes and sighed again. “I know how your government works, boy. I used to be part of it. I’m only trying to gauge how much you know of such things. I would have thought that you of all people would have been taught the finer points of council politics.”

“Why?” Kaeto asked simply, still trying for that cold tone of voice. He thought he was doing quite well with it.

“So I can open your eyes, my boy,” his uncle said with what Kaeto thought was forced calm. “I owe you and your mother that much, at least.”

“You mean you’re trying to turn me against my kingdom,” Kaeto said flatly. “I will tell you now, ‘uncle,’” he said the one word with heavy sarcasm. “I will not betray my people, no matter what you do to me. We may share blood, but I know you not. You are no family of mine, and I will not turn traitor because of the words of a stranger.”

Abruptly, his uncle shot from his chair, the wooden back snapping as it hit the floor. His uncle closed the distance between them with a single step and grabbed Kaeto by the collar of his shirt. “You do not know half of what you think you do, nephew. You have your mother’s face, but it seems you’ve inherited your father's arrogance as well. He believes he can twist the council to his will with money and kar, that he can eventually supplant the council as an ultimate ruler, but we won’t let that happen. Listen to me, boy. I won’t let him drive this nation to its destruction.”

The door slammed open, and Captain Johren practically leaped into the room shouting, “my lord! Are you injured?”

Kaeto ignored the man, meeting his uncle's frustrated glare. “My father would do no such thing. He is an honorable man. I’d say you’ve done more damage than he has with your rebellion. Remind me, who burned our crops? Who raids our towns and cities? Who leaves destruction in their wake?”

The air in the room seemed to grow heavy with heat as his uncle’s glare deepened. “We have no choice but to fight, boy.” He tossed Kaeto to the side towards Johren, and the captain caught him with firm hands. “Perhaps a few more days’ stewing in your hut will set your mind straight. Johren, take him back.” His uncle turned away and retrieved his sheave of parchment from the table with an angry swipe.

“At once, my lord,” Johren said, bowing his head.

“You can’t turn me. Torture me however you wish, uncle. There is nothing you can do to change my allegiance to my people,” Kaeto said as the captain began dragging him from the room. The two soldiers from before appeared and grabbed his forearms again.

The door closed with an equally solid thud as they left, the captain clearly feeding off his king’s rage. He eyed Kaeto darkly. “Perhaps you might have a small accident before returning to your hut, young prince,” the captain said, and Kaeto felt a ball of lead form in his gut.

“Do you really think that’s wise?” He challenged the other man, trying to force steel to his voice. He hoped the captain didn’t notice the sweat building on his neck.

Shrugging, the captain said, “wisdom has nothing to do with accidents last I checked. Accidents just happen. Nothing you can do about it.” He turned to his men. “Come on, then, let's get him back.”