A soft knock at the door signaled the arrival of the servant. The man entered the study and bowed. “Yes, my lady?” he inquired.
“Bring a jug of cider and two mugs please,” Thessalina ordered. The servant bowed again then exited the room. Brother and sister waited in silence until the servant returned, bearing a heavy pitcher and two ceramic mugs. He deposited his burden on a side table, then departed. Thessalina poured for both of them and handed Magnes a mug. He took a sip, swished the tart liquid around inside his mouth, then spat over the casement. Thessalina raised her mug to her lips, and together, they drank.
Feeling refreshed and a little more in control, Magnes returned to his chair and sat, cradling the mug between both hands. Thessalina remained by the window, waiting for him to speak.
“I don’t remember attacking him, Thess,” Magnes began. “That part is a blank. We were arguing. He said some things about Livie. Gods, it was ugly!” He paused to take another swig of cider. “Something came over me. I don’t know what. Like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It was…horrible, like a red fog. I understand now what some men mean when they speak of the berserker madness.”
He looked up at Thessalina and found, to his surprise, a measure of understanding. “I remember a struggle, then the next thing I knew, Father lay at my feet with…with…” He could not make his mouth form the words. He shook his head to loosen his tongue.
“A maid came in and she must have seen him. She screamed and I panicked. In hindsight I know now pure cowardice made me run. I wish I’d had the courage to stay, but at the time, all I could think of was that I’d be blamed for his murder. So I ran and I didn’t stop until I’d made it all the way to Darguinia. Where better to go, if one wants to disappear? It would be as if Magnes Preseren had never existed.”
His mouth twisted in a bitter smile at the flood of memories. “I changed my name and joined a holy brotherhood of humble healers, of a foreign god, no less! I thought by serving the poor and living as a simple healer, I could somehow make up for what I’d done.”
He went on to recount his life as an Eskleipan and how it had eventually brought him some peace. “The daily routine helped me to deal with the pain and, finally, to get it under control.”
“Why did you come back?” Thessalina asked quietly. She had remained silent throughout her brother’s narrative, until now.
“I ran into someone in Darguinia, a friend. Someone you’ve met, actually. He had suffered incredible ill fortune and had wound up in terrible circumstances. He convinced me I needed to come home and face up to what had happened, but now that I’m here, I’m beginning to think I should have stayed away.”
He looked around the room with haunted eyes. “Entering this room again took just about everything I had. I can feel Father’s presence so strongly. It’s as if he’s still here! I feel his anger, Thess. He blames me for his death, and rightly so.” He paused and drained his cup. “If I spend the rest of my life in atonement, it still won’t wash me clean of my crime,” he added.
Thessalina pushed away from the window and returned to her desk. She held still for several heartbeats, her eyes focused on her sun-browned hands. Finally, she spoke. “Magnes, the maid saw everything. She testified at a formal inquiry that Father attacked you, and how, during the struggle, he slipped and fell against the mantle. The magistrate officially ruled our father’s death an accident.”
Thessalina fell silent for a moment, then continued. “You know I love you,” she stated. “You’re my big brother, the one who took me riding on his pony before I was old enough to have one of my own. You taught me how to swim, and how to steal sweets from the kitchen without getting caught.” She looked up at him, her face stark with hurt. “How could you run away from me, Magnes? How could you not trust me to see the truth of things? Gods, Brother! I know you could have never, ever killed our father on purpose.”
“Thess, I’m so sorry,” Magnes whispered. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”
Tears wet Thessalina’s cheeks. “I would forgive you anything, Brother. Now, you have to forgive yourself,” she replied.
“Someone else said the very same thing to me recently,” Magnes murmured. He looked into his sister’s dark eyes. “I’m not sure I know how.”
A dog howled in mournful counterpoint to Magnes’ words from the yard below.
Thessalina sniffed and blotted her wet face on her sleeve. “Now that you’re back,” she said slowly, “there’s the question of your inheritance.” She paused and Magnes could sense a subtle shift in her attitude, from empathy to ambivalence.
“What about it, Thess?” he prompted.
“When you disappeared and we’d heard no word from you, Father’s vassals grew restless. There was even a plot, hatched by Sebastianus of Veii, to ride into Amsara and declare himself Duke! Thank the gods I had enough allies to prevent that.” She picked up a gilt-handled letter opener and began twirling it in her hands. “Magnes, none of us knew if you were ever coming back. I even sent a professional Tracker to find you, but he failed, obviously. Word started going around that you were dead.”
Magnes bit his lower lip. “Death may have been easier on me than what I went through,” he muttered.
“I had to make a decision,” Thessalina continued. “The duchy needed leadership and a clear succession. I thought long and hard and decided I couldn’t wait, so I sent a petition to the capital, asking the empress to officially bestow upon me the title of Duchess and grant me all of Father’s lands. I’d already led the diversionary campaign against the elves last fall, and I had the respect and support of most of Father’s allies.”
Magnes nodded. “None of this comes as much of a surprise,” he commented.
“The empress granted my petition, Brother. I am legally still your regent, but when a year and a day have passed from the date of my petition, I will officially become Duchess of Amsara; that is, unless you decide to contest it. You are still alive, after all, and your claim supercedes mine. The empress will have no choice but to rescind my grant if you declare your intention to take back what is yours.” Thessalina’s next words fell from her lips reluctantly, as though they had to be pushed. “I won’t fight you, Magnes, if you want Amsara back.”
Ever since they had been children, Thessalina led and he, Magnes, had followed, even though he had been the firstborn. Thessalina had inherited all of Duke Teodorus’ drive and ability for leadership. Though Magnes favored their father in appearance, their mother’s gentle temperament formed the core of his personality.
No. Thessalina stands in her rightful place and we both know it.
“I won’t contest, Sister. You should have been Father’s Heir all along. I just wish he could have seen the truth of that. It would have saved all of us a lot of pain.” A tangle of emotions wrapped up and stilled his voice. He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing until the spell passed. “All I ask is that you allow me to stay on and manage the estates, like I always did for Father,” he murmured.
Thessalina stood and stepped around to the front of the desk. Magnes rose to meet her and they fell into each other’s arms.
“I missed you so much, Big Brother!” Thessalina mumbled into his shoulder.
“I missed you, too,” he replied, stroking her dark, braided hair.
They held each other awhile longer, then Thessalina gently pushed away. A wan smile curved her lips. “You said you’d found a friend in Darguinia in bad circumstances, someone I’d met.”