Chapter 96

Arik

"Where is the stag!" Magnus' voice echoed across the courtyard out the front of the Duke of Fallspire's manor.

It was all happening again.

My father had brought me and Magnus out to Fallspire that last time the golden stag was sighted. The sounds of drunken or flushed lordlings spilling out of carriages now wasn't too different to the last time we'd all come here. Father had brought his court to witness what he thought was a momentous occasion, wanting the lords he trusted to see his son, Magnus, take his place as heir.

The court had changed significantly since then.

Many of those who supported my father were at best, sidelined, or at worst, trumped up charges were brought to bear and each one of those men saw the nasty end of the executioner's axe, their lands and titles gifted to those lords who worked hard to earn the queen, then Magnus', favour. Men hadn't stumbled on perfectly even cobblestones then, that was for sure, braying like donkeys at their own clumsiness. No, Khean had changed significantly since then.

But I hadn't.

I stood quietly, just as I had then, my father instructing me not to catch the queen's eye, not that his advice did me any good. I stood now, in front of the princess' carriage, blocking off the door, Roan and Silas by my sides, praying I could keep a considerably lower profile this hunt.

"Where is my stag?" Did Magnus know he sounded like a petulant child? I was willing to bet he didn't, not with the cluster of yea-sayers around him, but all their flattery went unheeded when his focus narrowed down on me. "Where is this stag, Arik? Where is—?"

"It's been sighted in the north wood just this morning." The Duke of Fallspire's voice cut through all the chaos, instantly creating quiet. "I have stationed some of my best hunters in the area to keep an eye on the beast."

Hunters, I knew exactly who they'd be. Smart men, clever men with knowledge of the land that came from living here for generations, the Duke made sure to employ the best of them. I'd found that out because I'd been forced to join them.

"Why is your by-blow here?" I was sixteen again, standing just behind my father as if the king and his crown was enough to erase me from the queen's sight. It wasn't. She stared past her husband at me, eyes narrowing. "Why on earth would you bring the single greatest threat to your son's future reign to this hunt?"

"For exactly that reason." His hand on my shoulder, it helped to settle my nerves, calming the rapid twist of excitement in my guts. "With Arik here as one of the witnesses to Magnus' ascension, it sends a message." He gave me a gentle squeeze. "That he will support the rule of his older brother."

"Support…?" Whenever the queen's eyes took on that kind of hectic light, I knew I would not like what came next. "It is good that you seek to make clear the bastard's place, but I think the message needs to be made clearer." Her gaze locked with the king's. "Send the boy to the hunters."

"What?"

I let that slip out without thinking, then slapped my hand over my mouth when I realised. That saved the queen for doing just that, her fingers twitching as she glared at me.

"He is a bastard." I'd stopped flinching at that particular epithet, having heard it so many times before. "He has no place among the nobles of Khean. He will need to serve someone when he is grown, so let that start now." Her focus snapped back to the king. "Send the boy to the hunters."

I asked why he acceded to her wishes later. My father was king, not her, so why did the queen's opinion matter?

"A king rules because others allow him to," he'd replied. "I married the queen due to her connections. She is the daughter of the King of Margravia, her mother once a princess of Gravennia. I expected her to create alliances when she came here for my benefit." His lips thinned. "Instead, she created a network for herself."

One she used now to good effect. Lords and ladies drew closer to the king and queen, appearing to stare down their noses at me, even though I towered over most of them, but those looks… Ones of scorn, of vicious amusement, were all too familiar. I stared up at my father, willing him to assert his authority, to insist that I stay for the hunt, but when he turned to face me, I got my answer. That apologetic look, so at odds with his crown and royal regalia, had me taking a step backwards before he even spoke.

"Watch the hunt from the sidelines, son," he told me. "It's the safest place for you."

It was only later than I found out what that meant. The queen had tried to get rid of an inconvenient bastard before, but never in such a public arena, though it wasn't attempts on my life that had me staring into my father's eyes, mutely begging to stay. He was the one who showed me the tapestries made to commemorate each king's claiming of his antler crown.

Every heroic tale fell on fertile ground inside my mind, my heart, my current powerlessness forgotten each time we talked about our ancestors. Some of the old kings had also come from ignominious origins only to be the one that killed the stag and take the crown. They'd filled me with hope, something that must've shone plainly in my eyes–why else would the queen step in to crush it? I'd nodded and slipped backwards and into the trees, because what more could I do? Confront the queen, name the small, vicious feelings that lurked in her breasts whenever she saw me in front of the entire Kheanian court?

I would've if I'd received even the smallest of encouragements. List the queen's failing and her foul son's, all of them over and over until the poison was drawn out of my veins, leaving me empty, but instead, I did what bastards always did well and disappeared.

Tears filled my eyes, the shame of that dragging more from my eye sockets, turning me half blind and stumbling as I clambered over tree roots, through bushes and past trees. I had no idea where these hunters were, but they had identified me, men in dark-brown and green homespun clothing emerging from the trees.

"And what do we have here?" their leader said, nodding in my direction. "Thought it was a deer with a broken leg, all the noise you were making walking this way."

"I am Arik." As I drew myself upright I scrubbed at my eyes, then wiped away the snot on my sleeve. "Son of the king."

"The bastard?" The men gave me a thorough look over. "We were told to expect you. This way, lad."

"Then we go to hunt the beast down," Magnus announced now, to the crowd, not the Duke.

"But Your Majesty, you've just arrived. The symbol of your kingship won't be going anywhere. You've got time to rest, eat, wash the dirt of the road off your—" Fallspire said.

"No." Magnus threw his arms wide, obviously unaware he revealed neat circles of sweat and grime under each armpit. It appeared having a steady supply of high-quality roseblood had made self-care impossible. "Destiny awaits." He found me across the crowded courtyard, his gaze locking with mine as he smiled slowly. "I was robbed once of the chance to take the golden stag. I won't allow that to happen again. Tonight I'll wear the crown of antlers on my brow and…"

Jessalyn always seemed to have a talent for appearing right at the wrong time, the carriage door being thrown open as she stepped out.

"I'll have my wife in my bed, the marriage consummated." Magnus' smile widened as he watched my hand stray to my sword hilt. "And the usurper prince's head lopped off and laying at her pretty little feet." His focus shifted. "I'm still to decide what will happen to the rest of your ‘band.' The general is all in a flap about security on the border, so perhaps sending him some new recruits will help resolve the problem."

Send them to die, that's what he was implying. I knew Magnus would make sure Silas, Creed, and Roan went to the worst-defended, pissant garrison, sure our enemies would come streaming across the border once they had their troops marshalled.

So I had best make certain that didn't happen.

"You heard His Majesty," I drawled. "He wishes to hunt, and to do so he'll need a fresh horse."

I stared at Fallspire, trying to get an indication that he was well prepared for this, that he had a horse ready, complete with a razor attached to the girth strap. A tiny nod was all I got in acknowledgment.

"Your Grace?" Henry, the Duke's head groom walked out leading two horses by the rein. One was the Duke's charger, Devil. He was a massive beast, complete with a satin black coat and muscles that quivered with barely repressed energy. We'd selected him as the king's mount, thinking the flashy appearance of Devil would appeal to Magnus' overweening ego. "Your horse."

"That's a fine piece of horseflesh if ever I saw one." Magnus propped his hands up on his hips, looking just like a farmer at market, not a king, as he inspected Devil.

"Perhaps you'd like to ride him on the hunt?" the Duke suggested smoothly. "I know he looks spirited, but I'm sure you'll handle him with ease. All that power," he slapped Devil's withers, "could be useful when you ride down the stag."

Say yes, you bloody idiot, I thought furiously. Say yes.

But when my brother's head swung to the left, my heart sank. He took in the much more stolid looking white horse that stood before the Duke.

"Oh, I think this one will do fine. What's your name, pretty?"

He moved forward to stroke the horse's muzzle, but animals sense a predator in their midst. The white horse shifted restlessly, its hooves pawing at the cobblestones, then jerked its head up before he could touch it.

That made Magnus angry.

He was wavering on his feet, no doubt being fed a steady supply of the slow-acting poison the entire way here as per the Raven's plan, but that hadn't dulled his responses right now. His hand snatched the horse's reins, jerking on them viciously when the horse tried to rear up and pull away. The groom made soothing sounds, trying to settle the horse, but not Magnus. He wasn't capable of soothing anything.

"Skittish, are you?" I felt Jessalyn join me rather than saw her, a sudden warmth at my side. "Just like a woman, not wanting to be ridden for the first time and with such a pretty blonde mane and all." Magnus glanced over his shoulder, his eyes dancing. "I think I'll call you Jessalyn."

"That bastard…"

The princess barely breathed that out, all of her royal training required to stay where she was and match the king's stare.

"Don't worry—" I started to say.

"I won't." Her eyes cut straight into me and a warning rose to my lips, telling her that even a small thing like this would be noticed by these idiots and gossiped about. I wanted to tell her that other princesses had died for less, but I couldn't. Not when her chin jerked up, nor when her eyes glittered with a dangerous light. "You mean to kill that little toad?"

"It'll be his head rolling free of his shoulders tonight," Roan growled. "I'll see to it myself."

"Not if I get there first," Silas promised.

"Well?" Magnus pulled himself into the saddle with ease. His mother knew that to be king he needed to be able to sit well on a horse, so he'd mastered that. We'd just see how well he did when his saddle was slipping from its back. "The stag awaits!"

The court moved sluggishly, no doubt assuming they'd be lolling around in the manor at least for a few days to ‘recover' before they made a show of hunting the stag. Some of the lords were already engrossed in fondling the playthings they'd brought along for just this purpose, but Magnus wheeled his horse around.

"Today, a great wrong will be righted." He'd been taught to speak in a statesman-like manner, a tutor spending quite some time helping him develop the ability to project his voice, the right intonation and cadence to stir others into action. "The stag only appears when a new prince is to have his claim to the throne ratified."

His gaze found me.

"Or when the king dies. The last time we came to Fallspire to hunt, an attempt was made to steal my birthright, to replace a true-born son with a bastard. I have been forced to deal with the indignity of having this malcontent haunt my court every year since, due to the superstitious mutterings of the beast men. But no more." I watched Magnus shift with his horse, his body swaying with no more import than the reeds might when the wind blows. "This is a sign. Our enemies mass at our borders, ready to take what belongs to us. The gods have sent us this challenge. I ride forth for all of Khean, to prove once and for all that I am your king and under my rule our country will prosper!"

It was the waste of a perfectly good speech because the audience would have cheered and clapped if he just bared his arse and slapped his cheeks, then farted out his response. The men all pulled themselves up into their saddles, though, ready to fulfil their role.

My tutor had told me that some academics theorised that in the very early days, all the contenders for the throne gathered at the sighting of the golden stag. Each of them raced to hunt the beast, to bring it to ground, then be the one to deliver the killing blow. The crown of antlers was not a hereditary crown, passed from father to son, but one won through blood and death. They were two spectres that had haunted my entire life, so when I hauled myself up onto my horse's back, I wasn't swayed in the least.

"Protect Jessalyn with your life," I ordered Roan and Silas.

"Where are you going?" she snapped, stepping forward. "Isn't that your job? You promised to keep me safe."

I smiled down at her, trying for acerbic but it felt just like a death's head grin.

"For as long as I'm alive," I said with a nod. "But I never specified how long that would be. The only way I can protect you properly is to see my brother dead." I glanced over my shoulder to where the lordlings were all starting to mass. "I can't trust the Raven, the Duke, anyone to do a job I know I must do myself."

My focus shifted to the others.

"I've changed my order. Get Jessalyn back to the capital or hell, beyond the borders themselves. I'll either come back victorious and find you wherever you are or…"

I nodded slowly, the ghosts of Fallspire rising again, crowding out my reality. Not Ariel this time, I saw someone else altogether. When I looked to my left, my father was there, smiling on horseback, the bridle of his steed jingling. Jessalyn had more to say, because of course she did, but I couldn't hear it, not when my king spoke.

"Time to go, son."

I nodded and then kicked my horse into a gallop.