Prince of Stars, Son of Fate Page 2

  Arynne groaned. “They’re human beings, not some sort of liquid sustenance to be consumed.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Plenty of men enjoy being devoured.” Sigid winked.

  Someone rapped on the door.

  “I’ll get that.” Sigid hurried to open it and immediately dropped into a curtsy. “Oh, Lady Friya. I didn’t expect you.”

  Arynne whirled about, eyes widening. Friya was the king’s sister, and the aunt to both princes. A cold, calculating woman, the last time she’d been in Arynne’s chambers, she’d attempted to overpower the girl and force her to undergo an untried magical procedure to remove her heartbond to Kay. Fire tingled in Arynne’s hands at the memory, and Sol stood up in his perch, back arched, fangs bared. The cat-owl hissed.

  Friya pushed her way past Sigid without a word and narrowed her eyes at Arynne.

  “We need to talk. Alone.”

  Arynne arched an eyebrow. “Considering our history, I would rather not speak to you without allies or at least witnesses.”

  Friya sniffed. “Grudges are counterproductive. The ability to use people even if they have stood against you in the past is a skill you must learn if you are to survive Frorian politics, my dear.”

  “The ability to learn from my mistakes and recognize patterns of behavior has saved me much pain in the past, and I would not set aside lessons gathered from previous conflicts so easily ... my dear.” Arynne frowned back.

  “Well said.” Friya sighed. “But I am bringing you an opportunity that I think you will wish to hear out. Princess Arynne, how would you like to get Prince Kajik back from the wastes?”

  Chapter Two

  Arynne’s heart leaped within her. Could Friya be serious? Did she really have a plan that could end Kay’s banishment and bring him safely home? Still, no matter how alluring the promise, Arynne had to be careful. While not as volatile or camel-headed as her brother, Friya was still manipulative and cutthroat, just in a quiet, calculating way that as far as Arynne was concerned made her more dangerous. Any offer she made could be medicine laced with poison.

  “I do desire Kajik’s return,” Arynne said cautiously.

  “Then ask your maid to step out for a few minutes. Long enough to fetch you some tea should be enough.”

  Sigid searched Arynne’s face. Arynne nodded. Still looking uncertain, Sigid left them alone.

  Arynne crossed to Sol’s perch and stroked his silky fur and pristine wings. The creature mee-ooled before curling up in a tight ball, wings folded, but eyes still alert and glaring at Friya.

  “Well, what is your plan?” Arynne asked. “I can’t imagine anything that would lead to Evyd pardoning Kajik. He hates the prince to an unsound degree.” Kajik had been an unwanted second son, born with a vague but troubling prophecy that he would be surrounded by the shadow of dark magic. Unable to kill his child, due to Frorheim’s egalitarian justice system, the king had contented himself with abusing and berating him for all twenty-one starcycles of the young man’s life ... until the heartbond with Arynne gave Evyd an excuse to lash out and banish Kay altogether.

  “My brother is stubborn and as stuck in his ways as a man with his trousers frozen to a block of ice.” Friya snorted. “There is another solution beyond removing the heartbond, one he will never consider because, whatever his proud words, he does not value the kingdom more than his own life and power.”

  Arynne tilted her head. She did not trust Friya, but she needed hope, needed a way she could save Frorheim without throwing away her or Kajik’s life. “What do you mean?”

  “The prophecy does not name Prince Olyn specifically.” Friya tapped her toe as if having to explain this was tedious. “It says only the Star Prince, the heir to the throne with the bond to the Starspire.”

  “I know that.” Arynne scowled back. If Friya was only there to repeat things she’d already heard and treat Arynne like an idiot, then Arynne had no time for her. She moved closer to Friya, leaving Sol to sulk. “The first thing I thought of was whether the prophecy could mean Kajik, not Olyn, but the only way Kajik will be the heir is if something happens to Olyn.” She couldn’t even bring herself to say “If Olyn dies.” Though she did not love him with the passion she felt for his younger brother, she’d come to care deeply for the thoughtful, self-sacrificing prince. Perhaps more importantly, Kay loved his brother more than life itself. He would die before he considered Olyn sacrificing himself for the rest of them. “I wouldn’t want that to happen.”

  “That is a way for the title of Star Prince to transfer, but it is not the only way.” Friya smiled smugly. “If King Evyd passes away before Olyn has, himself, sired a male heir, then Olyn will be king and will receive the complete bond with the Starspire. In those specific circumstances, the title of Star Prince passes to the next male in line, even if it is a brother rather than a son.”

  Arynne’s breath abandoned her. “Kay ...” she whispered.

  “Yes, Prince Kajik. It has happened a few times in our history, though the title is usually transferred once the king’s firstborn arrives. Athan, even, bore the title of Star Prince for the few weeks he managed to keep peace after Evyd’s coronation ... though the power was stripped from him by the star spirits before his banishment to the Lingering Dark.”

  Arynne inhaled slowly to calm herself. Evyd was hardly a good man. He despised his younger son and even Olyn, who he claimed to love, he treated more like a useful tool than a person he held in affection. Still, to wish any man dead, even one she loathed as much as Evyd, just didn’t seem the sort of thing a good princess should do.

  Oh, but if he died and Olyn were king and Kay the Star Prince, things would be so much better.

  She shook her head, trying to clear away the futile hopes. While older, Evyd still seemed healthy and strong. She had never asked his age, but considering that his sons were in their early twenties and that he still had his full vitality, he was unlikely to be more than sixty—perhaps nearer to fifty. Could she really count on him dying before the sorcerer Athan’s prophesied return? Of course, Evyd had been king before his sons were even born, which meant his father couldn’t have lived to be very old. Maybe their family line lacked the stamina for long life.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, Lady Friya, how old were your parents when they passed on?”

  “My mother was in her seventies, but my father only fifty-three.”

  Arynne brightened, but shame immediately washed through her. Her cheeks warmed.

  “If you are hoping Evyd will die of natural causes, then I don’t wish to mislead you,” Friya said, in a voice that, even though they were alone, Arynne still felt was far too loud for the subject at hand. “Our father died by a knife wound in the dimming. Athan, probably, though it was never proven. They were always at odds while Evyd and our father were as alike as twin elk-calves.”

  “I see.” Arynne’s stomach twisted within her. The serenity with which Friya discussed her brother’s death as a possible solution as well as the comment about “natural causes” suggested this conversation was about to take a dark turn. Arynne decided to play dense. “It seems we are at the mercy of fate, then, unless you are suggesting we somehow convince King Evyd to take his own life.”

  “Don’t play coy, my dear,” Friya scoffed. “You have no fondness for Evyd. I would venture to say no one in this kingdom does. Even his son and heir bears him only a passive deference rather than active affection, and can you blame him?”

  “Not really.” Arynne shifted from foot to foot. “That said, it is a large leap from disdain and dislike to ... murder.” She managed to get the word out. Even as her conscience resisted, her heart longed to believe it could be that easy. Dislike did not begin to encompass the contempt she felt for Evyd. She’d seen him bully Kay until the young man’s spirit bent to the breaking. He’d manipulated Olyn. He was cruel and capricious. If anyone she’d ever met deserved death, it was him. Still, she had learned to value life, all life, and as despicable as Evyd was, she could not name
a crime he had committed worthy of execution. “I am not sure I am comfortable being party to a cold-blooded killing.”

  “Consider it a sacrifice for the good of all.” Friya waved her hand dismissively. “Now, I very much wish to avoid witnesses to this conversation, so let’s stop playing politics and talk solutions. If King Evyd dies, his son Kajik, who you attest to love, will be able to return. He will carry the title of Star Prince at no cost to his brother, who it seems you’ve also come to care for. The kingdom will have its prophesied bond between a Star Prince and a Sun Princess, meaning Athan’s return will be thwarted. The kingdom will scarcely mourn the loss of one king and will delight in their newfound safety, so only one question remains.” Friya reached into the pouch hanging from her sash and drew out a small glass vial and a jagged blade. “Do you prefer to work with knives or poison?”

  Arynne’s jaw dropped, and for a moment she found no words. “You want me to kill him?”

  Friya sat in the chair beside the fireplace and folded her hands over the instruments of death. A silver ring with a single jet black stone stood out against her pale skin. “Obviously. If not, why would I approach you? No assassin hired off the street, even if I knew of such a scoundrel dwelling in the light of the Starspire, which I do not, could get close enough to my brother. He is powerful, protected, and paranoid. A deadly mix that few would challenge ... but you, girl, he underestimates. You have full run of the palace, access to areas where he could be easily caught off guard. Reason to be near what he eats and drinks.”

  “As do you!” Arynne snapped.

  “Dear one, if I were to kill him, the kingdom would demand my head. I’m a mother and grandmother, the leader of the seers in Frorheim, and an important member of the king’s council. The kingdom will never be able to smoothly transition from the rule of Evyd to the rule of Olyn without my insight and expertise.”

  Arynne didn’t try to hide her disdain. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that I was the only disposable inhabitant of the palace.”

  Friya shrugged. “The laws of our land do not pardon murder, no matter the status or wealth of the culprit. However, you, Princess Arynne, are a unique case. The prophecy demands a Sun Princess. You are the only chance we have. If Evyd were to die at your hands, the populace may wish for justice, but by dooming you, they would doom themselves. They will not risk it.”

  “An easy gamble to make when you won’t be the one throwing the dice,” Arynne said dryly.

  “I suppose, but what gain has there ever been without some risk?” Friya stood. “I’ll leave you to think on it. Also, don’t think of betraying me by telling my brother of this conversation. Remember, he doesn’t trust you, dear, but I am his longtime advisor and his blood. He trusts me implicitly.”

  “Trust that is obviously unmerited.” Arynne gave a wry laugh.

  “I only want what is best for Frorheim, which, as its king, should be my brother’s utmost concern as well.”

  Arynne very much doubted Evyd would appreciate his sister’s patriotism. Still, Friya had a point. Evyd saw Arynne as a traitor who had ruined his carefully laid plans by falling in love with the wrong son. Also, if Friya was willing to consider killing her brother as a way to save the country, Arynne couldn’t count on her own indispensability.

  Friya rose, set the vial and the knife on the side table next to her chair, and crossed to Arynne. She grasped the girl’s shoulder. A shock of static passed between them, not an unusual sensation in that cold, dry land, but more intense than usual. An unaccounted for unease crept through Arynne’s blood, prickling her skin like spider’s feet. Arynne managed not to flinch away and even returned Friya’s icy stare without blinking.

  Friya gave a brief nod. “Consider what I say. If you find the courage you need to complete the task, your darling Kajik’s banishment would be at an end.”

  Arynne’s jaw clenched. “Courage is not what I lack in this particular instance.”

  “Call it cowardice or discretion, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that this is the only way to save both the kingdom and the two princes. Every other path inevitably leads to either Kajik or Olyn’s death.” Friya turned and walked out, leaving a cold, unsettled feeling stirring in Arynne’s breast.

  She collapsed onto the couch with her head in her hands. She wanted to, needed to, keep both brothers safe and alive, but to kill a man in cold blood? Also, what if Friya was wrong and the kingdom considered her crime unpardonable? She needed someone to talk to, someone she could trust, but she couldn’t bring this up to Olyn. As awful as his father was, Olyn had far too much integrity to ever consider as foul an act as murder. Arynne ... well, if she twisted it around, she could see Evyd’s death as for the greater good. He was a bad man. The kingdom needed to be safe.

  Standing again, she picked up the vial and turned it in her hand. Her fingers slipped easily over the cool, smooth glass. She toyed with the wax seal with her nail. The liquid inside was clear as water. It could be easily hidden in the alcohol Evyd partook of every dimming. If the old man dropped dead after a dimming of drunken raging, well, he would not be the first to die in such a way. Would the populace suspect poison?

  You can get away with it, a cold version of her own voice rasped in her head. No one would suspect. Remember how he nearly killed Kay? How he called him worthless? A mistake? You could show that tyrant how little worth he truly has. Kay would return. Kay would be able to love you.

  Her hand trembled. She couldn’t really be considering this ... but she was. It would solve so many problems, and the cost was only one man’s life.

  He’s a nothing. A blight on his own kingdom. A cancer who has eaten away at his sons’ souls for over two decades. A beast, and a beast should be put down. A beast should die—

  “Princess Arynne!” A rapping at the door combined with Sigid’s voice sent a jolt through Arynne. The vial slipped from her grasp, but she caught it with her second hand. “Are you alone? Can I come back in?”

  Snatching both the vial and the knife up, she looked around for a hiding place. A small, wooden writing desk sat near Sol’s perch.

  “Just a moment!” Arynne rushed to the desk, pulled open a drawer filled with spare quills and ink pots, and shoved the instruments of death into the back. Sol gave an inquiring, “Mee-oot?” Arynne picked him up, clutching him to her breast to hide her shaking, and rushed to open the door for Sigid.

  The maid carried a tray with a steaming clay teapot painted with white and blue flowers, two matching cups, a dish of tiny tarts filled with deep purple jam, and a bowl of what appeared to be tiny lavender flowers.

  “I figured if you were going to have it out with that female snowbear, you’d need something to restore yourself afterwards.” Sigid clicked her tongue. She placed the tray on a small table near the fireplace. “Frostberry tarts and sugared balda-flowers.”

  In spite of her frayed nerves, Arynne drew closer. “Sugared flowers?”

  Sigid pinched one of the blossoms by its stem and held it up. Sure enough, the tiny petals glistened with crystals of sugar. “It’s a delicacy. Try it.”

  Arynne popped the flower into her mouth. She crunched on the sugary crust coating the flower, releasing sweetness. As her teeth crushed the delicate petals, a pleasant floral taste spread over her tongue, mild but unique. A smile flitted across her face. “Thank you, Sigid. This is just what I need.”

  “What did Lady Friya want with you?” Sigid poured two cups of steaming tea and handed one to Arynne as they both sat in comfortable chairs.

  Arynne stared at the flickering flames within the hearth. “Nothing good.”

  With a long “hooo,” Sol winged across the room to inspect what the ladies were eating. Sigid laughed as she shewed him away, and Arynne forced a smile.

  Something dark, unexpected, and a little frightening whispered within her. Maybe this was the only way. Maybe Kajik could only live if Evyd were to die.

  Arynne loved Kay more than life, but did she love him enough to kill?<
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  Chapter Three

  Kay squinted through the darkness lit only by the moon glistening off the pristine snow. A dark fog obscured the stars on the horizon, fog where a starshard, one of the brilliant crystals that gave light to their otherwise dark and freezing world, should’ve been.

  “Could it just be low clouds?” Crede, a young warden under Kay’s command, didn’t sound convinced.

  “Somehow I doubt it.” Kay double checked his sword in its sheath. While as a son of the royal line, he had access to starcasting magic, using it for any length of time exhausted him. He preferred to trust his blade instead when at all possible.

  Frost crusted his dark beard. Pulling his fur-lined hood over his head, he motioned to the two remaining wardens on his team—both of whom crouched a few yards back behind a jagged out-cropping of black rock. They crept closer.

  “Do you think this is it, Starwarden?” Frole, a veteran fighter almost ten starcycles older than Kay, who was twenty-one, asked.

  Kay gave a brief nod. They’d spent the last mooncycle tracking a pack of grimwolves, animals that had somehow become exposed to dark magic and turned into shadowy, mindless killers who hunted but did not eat. They’d managed to engage the pack a few times before it scattered, but along the way Kay had noticed other disturbing signs. Other wildlife wandering aimless and sick, away from the starshards rather than towards them.

  Most animals in Frorheim grouped near one of two sources of ready food. The largest was the Grinding Ice, a massive inland sea full of fish and other aquatic life that allowed seabirds, seals, and whales to thrive, but also drew snowbears, wolves, and even humans to its shores for the hunting. However, aside from that there were dozens of starshard sanctuaries scattered throughout the frozen wastes. The largest, and most well-known, was the Starspire in the light of which the Frorian’s only true city had sprung up, but several smaller starshards lit circles of land large enough to support farming and herding communities. Even more common were the smaller shards that created an oasis of light and warmth that might not be large enough to support a village but which gave succor to perhaps a meadow of green grass or a grove of trees.