“Whose reality? Yours? The queen did not see things the way you do. The Key was entrusted to me by our mother. Indeed, it was her final official act. No, I don’t think I can give it up.”
He found the strength to meet her gaze. Her face had become hard. It was not hate he could see in her eyes, but something much less personal, much less familiar. She thinks of me as nothing more than a peasant, as someone so far beneath her station it even pains her to talk to me.
Areava said nothing more, but spun on her heel and left.
In the distance he could hear the wake continuing, but the sounds now seemed falsely optimistic.
And then Lynan heard someone else walking along the gallery. He was afraid it might be Berayma or Orkid come to throw the same argument at him—or worse, Olio, whom he liked—but the figure that appeared on the balcony was not much taller than he and walked with a peculiar, telltale stoop.
“I passed Princess Areava. She looked like a snow witch.”
Lynan laughed bitterly. “She wanted me to surrender the Key of Unity.”
Ager took a moment to appreciate the view before saying: “Surrender it now? She thinks of you as a defeated enemy already?”
Lynan shook his head. “I’m not sure how she regards me.”
Ager nodded to the Key. “It still hangs around your neck. She was obviously wrong, however she thinks of you.”
“I was tempted,” Lynan admitted. “For a moment I was tempted. I have never held such responsibility before.”
Ager sniffed the air. “You know the story about your father and the battle of Heron Beach?”
“Only that it was his first battle and that he won. Neither Kumul nor Pirem were there, and they have been my main source of information about my father.”
“Well, I was there. Your father had a choice. He could pull back north of the Gelt River and await reinforcements, or he could launch an attack. He wasn’t sure of the enemy’s strength, but he did know that if he didn’t pin them against the coast they would slip away, and it would be weeks or months before he could chase them down again. More importantly, he was unsure of his own ability to prosecute an attack.”
“But he was a great soldier!” Lynan objected.
“No doubt about it, but before the battle of Heron Beach, no one, not even your father, knew what kind of a general he would be.”
Lynan looked at Ager. “This is a fable?”
Ager shrugged. “If you like. But it is a true fable, and you are your father’s son.”
Ager patted Lynan affectionately on the shoulder and departed.
Lynan left the gallery himself soon after and stood at the top of the wide staircase that led down to the great hall. For a moment he watched the people below: women in long mourning dresses that swirled as they turned, and men in their finest clothes, all aglitter with jewelry and wine-induced smiles.
He wondered if it had really sunk in yet, that Usharna was dead and they had a new monarch. He thought they would miss her more than they knew.
Areava had intimated she was speaking on behalf of their siblings, but if Berayma was going to confront him on the same issue, Lynan reasoned, it might as well be somewhere very public where his actions would by necessity be tempered.
He saw a group of important-looking people enter the hall from the courtyard, Berayma in the middle of them and the center of their attention. Those gathered around him were civic officials from Kendra, chief among them the mayor, Shant Tenor, and the president of the merchants’ collective, Xella Povis. The two made an odd couple: Tenor was an overweight, pasty-faced man in his late fifties who specialized in obsequies and bullying, while Povis was a tall, dark-skinned woman, originally from Lurisia, with a reputation for hard but fair dealing and a frankness that often offended the more polite mores of the court. Berayma stood a good head above them all, his expression patient but tired, trying to listen to the two of them talk at the same time.
Lynan descended the staircase and approached the circle, waiting until he caught Berayma’s eye.
“Brother,” Berayma said politely, interrupting the chatter. “Isn’t it touching to see so many of Kendra’s loyal citizens turn up to wish our mother a last farewell?” There was no irony in his voice.
“Touching indeed, brother,” he answered, staring at the hangers-on until they had all bowed. This is a new experience for us all, citizens, he thought, smiling at them grimly, so we’d better get used to it now.
“It was the least we could do after nearly thirty years of her generous reign,” Shant Tenor said loudly. He glanced up meaningfully at Berayma. “And to usher in what we’re sure will be many decades of continued prosperity for Kendra.”
Xella Povis smiled. “What he means,” she explained to Lynan, “is that we hope your brother sees fit to continue the generous export subsidies and dockyard refits your mother instigated for the benefit of the city.”
“What’s good for Kendra is good for the kingdom,” Shant Tenor declared pompously. “I hope you make the provinces understand that, young Ly… ah… your Highness.”
“I look forward to carrying your message to them,” Lynan replied dryly, and noticed Xella Povis regarding him with something akin to approval. He had the feeling that her opinion of the mayor was as low as his own. He faced his brother. “Speaking of my duties, could I have a word with you alone, please?”
“I don’t see why not.” He turned to his guests. “If you would excuse us for a moment?”
The others bowed and scraped and quickly moved away. Berayma nodded to his brother to speak.
Lynan took in a deep breath. “Areava has made an offer for the Key of Union. I’ve decided to hold on to it. It was a gift from my mother, and I have no intention of surrendering it to her… or anyone else.”
Berayma shook his head, his expression blank. “I haven’t the faintest idea what it is you’re talking about. Perhaps you had better start at the beginning.”
As Lynan recounted his meeting with Areava, he saw Berayma’s face go white with anger, but anger against whom he could not tell.
“I think I understand now,” Berayma said. “It seems I need to speak with Areava. I knew nothing of this offer and do not condone it.” He paused for a moment, avoided Lynan’s gaze. “I admit I was surprised by our mother even recognizing you as an heir, let alone giving you one of the Keys of Power, but I would never go against her wishes. Our relationship must be renewed—or, rather, begun, since I admit I’ve made it a practice to ignore you since your birth. There is obviously a great deal I have to learn about my own family.”
Lynan was stunned by Berayma’s words. “I would like that,” he replied lamely.
Berayma nodded stiffly. “It was what our mother would have wanted. There are still many official duties I must perform this afternoon and this evening, but I will discuss certain matters with you and our siblings over the next few days. You have courage and honesty, I see, and they are essential qualities. In time, I think you will make a good ambassador for the throne. The sooner we start you off, the better.”
Lynan nodded, not sure what to say.
“This is a time of joy as well as sadness,” Berayma said. “Our mother is free at last of all tribulations and pain. Drink to her memory, and to our future.”
Lynan felt as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. With Berayma’s support, he was confident he would be able to handle his new responsibilities and, more importantly, he knew Areava and the Twenty Houses would not dare attempt to take away his newfound authority. For the first time in his life he thought of himself as a real prince, a scion of the House of Rosetheme. His chest swelled and he strode around the gathering with greater purpose and confidence, not shying away from those whom once he would have avoided because of his dubious birthright and their obvious arrogance. He was clever enough not to try and rub anyone’s nose in his success, but could not help taking delight in the way everyone bowed and scraped to him. As the night progressed, and as he worked his way through his flask of red wine, he could not keep a swagger from entering his walk.