Chapter Eighteen
J udging by how low the full moon hangs in the sky, the hour must be late when I return to my chamber. My body is still buzzing from the evening. So, rather than wasting time trying to fall asleep, I decide to head to the library for a book. And maybe Killian will be there, just as he always used to be.
Licia is still not in, so I change quickly from my tunic and leggings, now damp with sweat and smelling of fire smoke, into a simple gown. And then head to the south wing with the light of the full moon guiding my path. The late hour enhances the ghostly feeling I always get. While walking these halls, once again I’m struck at the faded beauty here. It seems traitorous, but I wonder what these walls looked like when the Fae lived here. These now faded paintings and tapestries must’ve been brilliant and inviting to all who passed. I wind my way down our tower and straight to the library.
Despite the late hour, Killian is exactly where I expect him to be. Even years later, and late into the night, he’s in the library among the war strategies section. But he’s not alone, another man stands beside him, looking grim and puzzling over what Killian suggested. The map laid out in front of them is covered with markers shaped like towers and horses.
Some things never change. “Isn’t it a bit late to be pouring over war maps, brother?” I say as my fingers tap lightly along the edges. He looks up and smiles, the same smile he used to give me when I’d appear by his side, only now, more lines crease his princely face.
“Princess Rowandine. If I may be so bold to say, we are blessed by the stars to have you back,” the older man says. He’s built like a warrior, and his head of gray hair and scarred features suggests he’s seen many battles and made it out alive.
“That is kind, Sir–” He’s familiar, but I don’t recall his name.
“Sir Patton Montford. At your service.” He bows low and then returns his attention to Killian, whose ignored our brief introduction and continues to stare at the map before him.
Ah, so this is the head of guard.
“But if we attack from that angle, they’ll see us coming.” He looks up at the guard, still too lost in thought to acknowledge me. I take in their map and all the pieces scattered about.
Suddenly, the answer is obvious.
“And if they see you coming, they’ll move to higher ground. But if you use the Periserrat Peaks, they’re as good as dead,” I say, assessing the markers laying before us.
Killian looks up, noticing me for the first time. “Not if they have the higher ground, sister. That would be the advantage,” he says, placating me as if this is obvious.
I look hard at him and Sir Patton looks between us. “Yes, the obvious advantage, brother. Which is why it would work.” I point to the peaks, the very space they’re discussing. The blush of victory rises in my cheeks as they look between one another, not seeing what I see so plainly.
“Why would that work?” He looks at Patton for the answer. But Patton continues to look at me, waiting but already nodding along in agreement .
“If the enemy is driven up the peaks, yes they have the higher point advantage, but they have nowhere to go,” I say, watching the map as I continue. I can feel Killian’s stare on me. “What if we could weaken the peaks? Dig out from underneath them in some way? Then, they’d have nowhere to go and they’d crumble.” But even as the words leave my mouth, I’m wondering why he’d need to do something like this. And how something like this would affect my newly discovered earth magic.
“Brilliant! Yes!” Killian is nodding along with Patton by the time I finish. “Where did you learn war strategy?” He studies me as if he’s never seen me before. And to be fair, it has been a long time since I’ve curled up in his lap as he read to me from thick volumes of the most notorious battles.
“I had a good teacher. Or do you forget?” I gesture to the chair that still sits beside the fireplace, only now it sags in the middle from years of use.
“How could I forget?” He smiles brightly at the compliment.
“Well, I’d say Princess Rowandine has given us plenty to think over. I’ll retire for the evening, or should I say morning?” He glances out the small window across the table where hints of the waking sun peak in. He bows to Killian, then me, and is gone.
“You’re going to aid one of the villages in the east? Who would attack from over the Periserrat Peaks? Surely that’ll be more hassle than it is worth?” I study the map, realizing as I ask that from the cluster of gold troops and how he’s placed them, they’re ready to attack, not defend.
“The villagers of Blagdenbeck, in the valley of the peaks, have been mining Eldorite. We plan to claim the village as our own, then use the crystal they’ve collected to harness and amplify magical energies to fuel and drive our rebuilding of Glorixia,” he says, placing his hands on his hips and puffing out his chest .
“What would we do with Eldorite, though? We have no powers to harness. Everything magical has left the area.” I gulp. Killian’s desire to use raw power and the fact I just learned I’m one of few who still live and have raw power is a dangerous thought.
“We have sources that believe the necessary powers still remain here in Everguard. Hidden from us, but out there, just waiting to be harnessed.” Killian brings his fist down on the map, causing the closest figures to go flying.
I don’t like where this is going. Who’s this man standing in front of me? Surely not my brother. “But if they’ve been mining it all this time, wouldn’t it be more effective to trade something they may need? Surely we have a surplus of digging tools, or lanterns, or something?”
Killian shakes his head, frustration apparent in the way he’s scrunched all his features up.
“That’s beside the point, Rowandine. Blagdenbeck is the closest town to the last recorded site of Glorixia.” He looks pointedly at me as if I should’ve seen why this was beneficial right away. When he realizes I haven’t grasped this significance, he continues. “Being closer will allow us to rebuild more quickly once we locate the remains of the lost city.”
“But I thought Glorixia was lost to the Wastelands?” I ask, pointing to the large sand colored part in the center of the map.
“We have many scholars working to find the exact location, it’ll be any day now.” He taps two of his fingers in the center of the Wasteland desert for emphasis. “Who knows, perhaps before we know it, Father will set himself up in the old capital of Everguard, at the heart of our realm. That will leave me to rule Merula. Perhaps he’ll send Licia somewhere close, and gift her something smaller like Blagdenbeck or Cindra to look after. And you, well, you’ll be across the sea, sitting on a throne of your own.” I stare at him.
“What? Why do you look upset? If we all held seats in the major parts of Everguard and its surrounding realms, think of the possibilities.” He sweeps his hand further north, toward the large and reclusive city of Freathia. The hunger in his eyes makes me take a step back. “What? Like you wouldn’t want your very own village? The power that comes with it?” He looks hard at me, brow furrowed, as if this is incomprehensible to him. A hunger I’ve never seen before dances in his eyes, and I can’t help but think it’s not unlike the look Father gets when he recounts battles.
“Well, no. If you must know. I’d never want to rule over any part of Everguard. I much prefer helping the people. That’s why I spend so much time in the healer’s ward, I think.” I offer up a small truth, but in doing so, I find another. What if ruling could be helping? If someone was in such a powerful position, couldn’t they use it for creating more trade opportunities, or uniting the people in other ways? Father rules with an iron fist, often scaring or killing others for his own gain. But couldn’t even more be built under a united front? Wouldn’t we all be safer and stronger for it? “Why, what would you do as ruler of Merula? And later on the whole of Everguard?”
“I’ll continue as Father has. He’s almost tripled his lands since crossing the seas and setting out from Nefaria. And he’s not slowing down anytime soon.”
“And the people?” I ask, recalling how vacant the roads were on my way into the castle and my conversation with the vagrant.
“What about the people? They can stay. Someone has to do the heavy lifting around here.” He cocks his head to the side, clarifying that it certainly won’t be him doing said lifting.
I choose my next words carefully, not wanting to upset him, and knowing if I say too much, surely Father will hear about it. “On my way in, I noticed—the fields seemed sparse, and the homes looked barely more than piles of wood.”
He squints at me. “Well, you're right, they’ll have to work harder to keep up with our growing needs. But for now, we’ve just finished raiding some smaller villages to the west. They had plenty.”
My head reels at his blatant disregard for his own people.
We’ve been raiding the surrounding villages? That’s our solution? I take a deep breath and look down to the map, blinking quickly and knowing tears will only further agitate Killian.
Clearly my time away from the castle has changed the way I see things. Where would I be if my surrounding neighbors didn’t check in on me while Avicii was away? I would’ve had to live on only the crops I grew if not for the many travelers willing to trade fabrics, rare herbs, and even farming equipment I’ve never seen before. Not to mention the many who stopped for several days to help around the farm in exchange for a few hot meals and a soft pillow at the end of a long day. If I was left alone up there while Avicii was gone weeks at a time, I don’t think I would’ve made it on my own.
“But, if his people are unable to grow enough to feed their families or are afraid for their families’ safety because of these raids, what’ll happen?” I wonder, not sure that I can handle the answer. Perhaps from Father, but not from my brother, who I’ve always looked up to so fondly. What happened to him while I was gone? He’s always enjoyed studying wars and battles, but I just thought it was part of his education toward being the next in line for the throne. I never thought he’d grow into an exact copy of the way Father does things.
“Nothing will happen. His people are scared of him. Fear and power go a long way, Roe.” He muses on this as if he’d like to hang this thought in a gilded frame.
As he says this, I realize fear is easy to root. Love and respect take more time. And time is not something King Hadeon is fond of.
I exaggerate a yawn, planning to feign exhaustion, but Killian’s already turned back to his map, weary of the direction of our conversation. Rather than asking more questions, I hurry from the room, my heart sinking while my thoughts play tug-of-war with these newly realized truths and Thaliya’s words from earlier.