Chapter 4 Anastasius
I wiped my sweaty back after a particularly long session against Rohit. The towel came back stained red. My friend grimaced before mumbling an apology which I waved off. Unlike when I battled with my father, Rohit and I tried to avoid injuries. Usually, we were more successful, but I had once again been distracted by my task of Selecting a potential mate for the Choosing trial, a set of four challenges to test De Vita’s four primary values: loyalty, wit, strength, and love.
“It’s fine.” I dismissed him as I cleaned the assortment of cuts on my chest. Once I returned to my chambers I would apply a clotting propellant and an anti-infective. Neither were necessary with the healing spells my father knew, but I refused to receive special treatment and waste magic on wounds I couldn’t feel anyway. I was a prince, not a god. Not like my father. Not yet. And, hopefully, I would never end up like him. Although, at the rate I was losing myself, perhaps I was transforming into a god of De Vita.
I snorted at the thought. The clan worshiped me for my weakness. For them, I supposed it was only strength. They refused to acknowledge the consequences of my gift. My body rotted from wounds and disease more often than not, and yet they still praised me, hoping another would be born with my power. So far, I was the only one, but each birth sent me terrifying visions of another emerging.
Rohit gave me a look of exasperation. “Come. Let’s get you fixed up, you stubborn fool.” His lips curled at the edges in a suppressed smile. The casual address would have been unacceptable to my parents, but I preferred his teasing to the cold regard of the other clan members who claimed to love me. They worshiped me, but they didn’t know me. Not like Rohit and Ercan did. The former never failed to call me out on my bullshit. I smiled, studying him. He was pleasant to look at with his sharp jawline, high cheekbones, bright emerald green eyes, and skin the color of toasted wheat. He returned my smile, ushering me with a large hand toward the clearing outside of the oasis.
“My father has given me until the Day of Breath to make a Selection, Ro,” I blurted out, needing to get it off my chest. He stilled.
“And you haven’t found someone who attracts your attention.” The words were a mix between a statement and a question. I shook my head. “Just choose me. I get it. You don’t want to be paired with someone who will make you unhappy. We can be happy together.”
I pursed my jagged lips in a thin line. No. That wasn’t an option. He and I were friends, no more. I wasn’t about to ruin our friendship for selfish reasons. “I won’t do that to you,” I whispered.
“I’m telling you it’s okay. You deserve a chance at happiness,” he answered, forever the loyal friend. He laid a hand on my arm, perhaps an attempt to be reassuring, but his body was stiff, and there was no spark of desire in his eyes or my heart.
I shook my head. “I won’t become your chain. I will find someone, and so will you, but it won’t be each other.” His shoulders relaxed the slightest bit, and he squeezed my forearm gently before pulling back. We exchanged a look of mutual appreciation and respect. And then he gave me a daring smile.
“Race you home!” he challenged, pushing me behind him before darting off into the unforgiving sun. I chuckled and darted after him. Shadows blanketed the sun momentarily as he shifted. A gust of wind from his wings brought with it the strong scent of spice from the dunes. I inhaled deeply, letting its healing power enter my cursed, broken body.
We left our little corner of the oasis, soaring above the rare greenery amongst the endless brown dunes. Our home was an ancient, well-protected De Vita fortress, deep within the maze of the Sand Eye. The desert swallowed any who dared plot its secrets. Despite its natural defenses, on either side of the main entrance to our sculpted haven, draconis stood guard with hands on the pommels of their swords and eyes constantly on alert. Draconis patrolled the Sand Eye surrounding it, always watching the shifting sand and shading the ground with their flapping wings. They waited for an attack, even though there hadn’t been any active clashes between the clans in my lifetime.
I landed gracefully on my balcony, bypassing the main entrance and the guards which lurked there. Once I entered the room, Rohit landed on the draconis-sized balcony behind me. A guard would have seen us return, but they knew to let anyone I accompanied past the guards without interrogation.
My eyes fell upon the hearth, where I found Ercan stoking the fire like a servant. I noticed the tonics lining my shelves had been neatly organized again. I had done so little for him, yet he insisted it was everything. His shoulders were tense, and he jerked to his feet as I entered the room. He bowed low, but not before I caught the look of sadness in his eyes.
“Ercan,” Rohit greeted our friend.
“What is it?” I asked gently as he straightened. My gut told me the answer, though. Enid, our friend. . . He gave me a heartbroken look. I slammed my fist against the wall. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rohit wince from where he searched my cluttered shelves for the correct salve. There was no need to hide around him. He knew the truth—what needed to be done. He grasped the tincture containing the cream that would enhance my body’s natural healing.
“She’s asking that you do it, Prince,” Ercan murmured, igniting an almost physical pain in my chest. Of course, she wanted me to do it. I bit back the selfish thought of refusing and rested my head against my hands as Rohit tore off the remnants of my shirt, exposing my wounds. He went to work quietly as I cursed under my breath.
I would do it. I owed it to Enid for her loyalty and friendship. There was no other option.
“When?”
The infirmary reeked of infection, a familiar smell poorly covered by the spice we harvested from the Sand Eye. It was dark and gloomy here like it was deep within the mesa where Odon insisted on keeping the captured Circulus. The sick room was quiet now—Thyia had gone to rest while our patients did, so I was alone, Rohit and Ercan keeping watch by the healer’s chambers and outside the infirmary in case someone were to come looking. I silently weaved through the sleeping bodies.
Theo, a boy of four, stirred restlessly, his eyes widening upon seeing me. I knew his mother. She was one of the Pruned Circulus slaves. She served Oriana, the sister of Rohit and Mateo. My finger lifted to my lips, and I winked at the boy. Thyia claimed she kept him around to help, but I suspected she cared for him. My mentor was sweet like that; she collected broken things and helped them build themselves back up. Theo giggled quietly, making me smile. There was so little laughter here and so much suffering. He curled up under his finely woven blanket with a small smile that Thyia kept for him in the corner. I reluctantly tore my eyes from his sweet form to seek out Enid in the corner. She wasn’t there. My heart raced as I hurried over to where I had last seen her. The blanket remained, along with a note scrawled on a thin piece of parchment.
Anastasius, find me where we found our friend, it read. I grumbled my complaints quietly. No doubt, she had used magic in her escape. I knew where she’d gone, of course. She had left for the spot we had found Ercan dying after being banished from the Circulus. She was going back to where it all began. A full circle.