“We? You mean me, don’t you?”
“Lynan, there is no need to trouble yourself about this,” Kumul said. “Ager and I were going to tell you in the morning everything that transpired here tonight.”
Lynan ignored him. “What was the discussion—sorry, argument—about?”
“About whether to stay here in the east of the Oceans of Grass to be near Haxus and Hume, or to go to the High Sooq and recruit the entire Chett nation to your cause.”
“Kumul wanted us to stay here,” Lynan said, a statement and not a question.
“Yes.”
“And you want us to go the High Sooq.”
“Yes.”
Lynan looked at Gudon. “And you? Which side were you on?”
“There are good reasons on both sides.” Gudon shrugged. “But I support my queen.”
Lynan turned to Ager. “And you?”
“I lean toward Kumul, your Highness.”
“And Jenrosa. Was she a part of this discussion? What side did she take?”
“She has no experience in these sorts of things,” Kumul said gruffly.
“Nor have I, apparently, though we both deserve a say, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Of course, lad, but we weren’t making any decisions—”
“Except what course of action I should take.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“It’s always like that, Kumul. I remember the talks I had with you and Ager before Jes Prado kidnapped me. ‘Lynan, we think this is the best course of action. If you don’t agree, we’ll not support you.’”
“It was never like that!” Kumul said, aghast.
“It was exactly like that,” Lynan said without rancor. “But I’ve changed, Kumul. Being kidnapped, hacked to pieces, and brought back from the door of death does that.” He turned and walked away, and without looking over his shoulder said: “We leave for the High Sooq in the morning.”
Kumul stayed by the fire after the others had gone. Ager hesitated, but Kumul waved him off and Ager left without saying anything.
“Well, that was a turn,” Kumul said softly to himself. He was feeling angry and ashamed, a combination that left him feeling confused. He had always been sure that Lynan would one day come into his own, both as a prince and as a man, but for it to happen so abruptly and in such a manner took Kumul aback.
And then there was the transformation that had changed the prince’s appearance so dramatically. Kumul did not know what else the transformation had altered, but could not help being afraid of the possible consequences.
He sighed deeply. He had been wrong to exclude the boy from the discussion, but was sure Lynan’s decision had been made in anger. If only Kumul had handled it better, he was sure Lynan would have come around to his way of thinking.
It’s not the decision his father would have made, he thought ruefully. The General would have seen the wisdom of staying close to the enemy.
But Lynan was not his father, in any fashion. Proven in battle but not yet in war, heir to a blighted inheritance but also heir to the greatest throne on the continent of Theare, outlaw and victim of thwarted justice. Lynan was so much more and less than his father ever was. Where Elynd Chisal was straight up and down, Lynan was a mystery.
And yet, Kumul suspected, Lynan might prove to be the greater. And he is my son as well.
Kumul could no longer see into the future with the certainty he once possessed. All the sureties had left his life, and only vague hopes took their place. The thought worried him; he knew that once the challenge of heading into the unknown would have excited him.
And Lynan, for the first time, had spurned him. That weighed on Kumul heavier than all else. He felt he had been rejected, and the feeling made him angry at his own self-pity and childishness.
He threw some more wood into the fire, watching it burn brighter and higher.
So be it, he thought resignedly. The future is dark to me now, but I will not let Lynan enter it alone.
Chapter 4
It was sunset, and Kendra had become a golden city. “That sky is the color of my love for you,” Sendarus said.
Areava looked sideways at him and saw the smile he tried to hide, but it lit up his face too much. “I have heard crows sing sweeter songs,” she said.
“Ah, but no crow ever loved you as I have.”
Areava shook her head. “Oh, stop it. You don’t have to prove to me you have a sense of humor.”
Sendarus got up from their stone seat and knelt in front of her. He took her hands in his own. “But there is so much I want to prove to you,” he said seriously.
“We will have time. A whole lifetime.”
“It won’t be enough.”
She kissed him on the forehead and slipped her hands away from his. “It will have to do. Have you heard from your father?”
“Must we always discuss business when we’re alone together?”
“Best to get it out of the way.”
“You used to have a lighter heart.”
“Stop it, Sendarus,” she said shortly. “If you want the marriage to go ahead as much as you say you do, you’ll help remove the last impediments. The council wants that agreement from Aman—signed by your father—before its members will give our union their full support. This is a particular concern of the Twenty Houses.”
“You have no regard for your country’s nobility,” Sendarus objected. “Why this sudden need to pacify the Twenty Houses?”
“I have a lot of respect for them and their influence in the kingdom.”
“And why are you so concerned about the council? It is your creation, after all. You can dissolve it any time you like. I’ve heard you say so to their faces.”
Areava patted his cheek. “A council expects to be threatened by its monarch every now and then. It’s good form. But it’s not good form to ignore its advice, and its advice is to get from your father a guarantee that my marrying you does not give Aman any rights of succession outside our own issue.”
“Such a legalistic expression for the children we will raise. Our ‘issue.’ That is a term for matters of state.”
“And our children, like it or not, will be matters of state.”
Sendarus shook his head. “Not to me.”
Areava was about to agree when she realized she would be lying. The realization surprised and dismayed her. There was no doubt in her mind that she would love any children she bore, but equally there was no doubt that as queen she would put them to good use for the sake of her kingdom. As my own mother did with Berayma, and at the end of her life, through the Keys of Power, had tried to do with all of us, even Lynan.
“Have you heard from your father?” she asked again.
Sendarus sat next to her, his usual cheerful face now as serious as her own. “Not yet. I was expecting a message to arrive last week, but it has not come yet.”
“You don’t think your father—”
“Will not agree? No. But it is possible he will ask for concessions in other areas. He is a politician at heart.”
“As he should be. He is a ruler.”
Sendarus looked sideways at Areava. “He will meet his match in you, I think.”
“Ironically.”
“Why?”
“Because his brother, my chancellor, is one of my teachers.”
Sendarus laughed at that, and the sound was so infectious that Areava joined in.
“I’m glad to see you enjoying yourself, your Majesty,” said a voice behind them.
They both turned and saw Orkid standing there, looking as severe as usual, an impression always exaggerated by his long dark beard. They both laughed even harder.