Chapter 2
2
KAEL
Gyorian Midlands, Elydor
“Again,” I shouted, the warriors before me thinking they were nearly finished.
I knew better. They had just gotten started.
The sound of steel clanging mingled with flutters from a flock of glintwing finches. I hadn’t heard the sound in many months. As I looked upward, shimmers of green and gold flew past. Many believed the glintwing finch to be a sign of hope and resilience, and though I didn’t put stock in such signs, I understood why others believed as much. Their appearance meant spring was coming.
“Haven’t you pushed them hard enough today?”
Though I heard my friend coming from behind, I didn’t acknowledge his question. Adren knew the answer already.
“It was a freak accident. Their lack of training was not to blame.”
“My father believes otherwise.”
“Your father is a stubborn fool.”
Sighing, I raised a fist into the air. Almost instantaneously, the sparring ceased. “Change partners,” I called out, watching closely for any sign of complaint. Thankfully, there were none.
“You speak of the king,” I reminded Adren, though my tone lacked the heat it should have, given it was my father I weakly defended.
“The king, and a man too consumed with hate to see clearly. But,” he continued quickly before I could respond, “that’s a discussion for another day.”
I raised my brows, surprised Adren was giving up so easily. Though the warrior had centuries on me, he was still younger than my father. With his imposing height and muscular build, he could easily match the king in hand-to-hand combat. The latter, however, could easily take Adren down with magic. It was the reason Balthor had been king for many years. None could wield land magic as he could.
None could even come close.
“Spring is coming,” I said, changing the subject. I had little desire to discuss the border skirmish that had left a Gyorian warrior dead. He’d fallen on a wooden spike that had pierced his heart, an “accident” as Adren said. But it had happened in battle, which meant the Aetherians were to blame.
“I was just with your brother who said the very same thing.”
I wasn’t surprised. Unlike me, Terran did believe in signs. To him, everything was a sign.
“Did he mention the Summit?”
Watching two particular men, I tried to discern why one continued to be disarmed. A skilled swordsman, he moved with grace and precision, his footwork impeccable and his strikes powerful. Yet, time and again, his opponent managed to knock the sword from his grip. As I observed more closely, I noticed a subtle tell—a slight tensing of his sword arm just before each disarming blow. His skill was betrayed by this unconscious signal, a weakness his opponent had instinctively learned to exploit.
Realizing Adren hadn’t answered, I looked at him. Dressed in typical Gyorian fashion—a knee-length tunic and fitted trousers tucked into his leather boots—he didn’t appear to be suited for training. Instead of asking about it, however, I continued to wait for his answer.
When it didn’t come, I cursed. If Terran wasn’t attending the Summit, that responsibility would fall on me. “Gods be damned.”
“Terran claims to be needed here.”
“For what?” I asked, not bothering to hide my irritation.
“He did not say.”
Also typical of Terran. I loved my brother, but the air of mystery he created around himself, whether on purpose or by design—I could not discern which—frustrated me more with each passing day.
“If I go up there now, after what happened… Adren, you best not be smiling. This is not a jesting matter. Maybe you’d enjoy accompanying me on a journey north.”
Adren pursed his lips together, no longer smiling at the prospect of me having to travel to Aetheria. Apparently my friend wanted to spar. I drew my sword from its sheath. “No magic.”
This time, he didn’t hide his smile. Adren unsheathed his sword. “No magic,” he confirmed.
At the first strike, the sounds of the other men’s swords diminished. At the second, they ceased altogether. All of the Gyorian warriors would be watching us, the prince and his right-hand man, two of the most celebrated swordsmen in our clan, if not all of Elydor. As I circled and struck, Adren easily blocking me, I wondered why we hadn’t done this earlier as a way to ease my frustrations.
Since the attack, a rising sense of dread and anger had welled inside me. I was no longer to rule over Gyoria, nor did I want such a position. My brother was much better suited to the honor. But neither could I sit idly by while Father continued to turn his hate to the humans rather than the Aetherians who had killed one of my warriors. Had killed more Gyorians these past years than any humans since they first arrived in Elydor more than five hundred years ago. Yet the same man with no mercy for one kingdom preached temperance when it came to the other.
As cheers erupted around us, I blocked them out. Adren was one of my fiercest opponents and could easily outmatch me if I became complacent or lost focus.
“Prince Kael. Prince Kael.” The chorus of cheers grew. “Ad-ren. Ad-ren.”
I was glad to hear my friend’s name being chanted. He deserved every accolade, even as I laid him on the ground. It was a move my father had shown me many moons ago and one I’d never used on Adren, until now, which was what took him unawares. He’d expected a blow from my sword, not a sweep of my foot to his ankle.
Slaps on the back and my men cheering all around me improved my mood slightly. I held out my hand. Adren took it and bounded to his feet with a bow.
“As you are the victor, I do not deserve a boon, but I will ask for one anyway.” He grinned. I knew before he spoke it what Adren would say. “Call an end to their training.”
And this was why they adored him so. He pretended to be just another of my men when we all knew Adren held as esteemed a position in the Gyorian court as my closest advisor.
I sheathed my sword and considered how to respond. Spring was coming, which meant I should be able to…
With a wave of my hand, I covered the training field in flowers of every variety and color I could think of. Those who’d heard Adren’s request had my answer, and those who hadn’t soon learned the reason for the temporary bloom. As they fled the training yard, I watched as the flowers already began to wither. It was too soon for them to remain, the weather still not having broken completely just yet.
“A nice trick,” Adren said, watching them fade with me.
“Those,” I said, indicating the field before us, “or my move that gave you a view of the heavens.”
“Both.”
It wasn’t long before all the flowers I’d summoned were gone.
“When do I leave?” I asked him finally, knowing his message was the reason he’d sought me out.
“Immediately.” Adren tossed his hands in the air at my sharp look. “I am merely the messenger,” he said. “I can come with you.”
“No, you stay here with the men. One Gyorian subjected to Aetheria is enough.”
I didn’t blame Adren for his look of relief. Even when we were at relative peace, the journey was not a pleasant one. With few exceptions, Gyorians remained in Gyoria. Aetherians, in Aetheria. The humans in Estmere and the Thalassari in Thalassaria.
Peacekeeping summit, indeed. There could be no peace in Elydor. Not any longer.
Not after all that had happened.