Chapter Two #2
Lord Ashe sighed. “And Lady Aine.”
My father, who had been slumped in his throne, sat straight now.
He was still a young man of sixty or so.
His hair had gone slightly gray at the temples but was otherwise black and luxurious.
He had a neat mustache and beard, brown eyes with small flecks of green, and wore a bright red tunic—a sign that he did not need to hide from anyone or anything.
Any one of us present would have protected him with our lives.
As Finnrey and I moved to stand before the stone dais where the throne sat, our sisters grew quiet and gathered closer as well.
Without thinking, we organized ourselves in order of age.
The king was said to be a lusty man and had sired nineteen children, nine sons and ten daughters.
The four eldest of his children with his first wife were married and had children.
Cameed had come next. She was short and slim, and the oldest present at seven and thirty.
Next was Morga, who was Cameed’s full sister and resembled her except she had more curves and didn’t wear a perpetual scowl. Morga was four and thirty.
Next came Finnrey’s full sisters. These were the product of the king’s second wife.
His first wife had asked for a divorce after the birth of her last child, a son.
She had said she felt like a royal brood mare and was done with enduring her royal duty.
The king had remarried less than a year later and then Broga and Riah, fraternal twins, had been born.
Broga was known for her strength. She was the only one of us strong enough to wield a sword successfully.
She was also my nemesis. We’d never liked each other, not since we were children.
Riah, her twin, was the least clever of all of us and focused on appearance.
She possessed light brown hair, which stood out among the rest of us who had hair so dark it was almost black.
Her hair was her pride and joy and, as usual, she wore it long and flowing.
The twins were eight and twenty. Another son had been born and then came Finnrey, who was five and twenty, and I thought the prettiest of all of us.
She was on the shorter side but had an athletic figure with high cheekbones and a straight nose.
Finnrey’s mother had died from complications during her next pregnancy, which was probably a good thing because the court whispered that the king had already fallen in love with my mother, whom he married the day after she turned eighteen, which was shockingly young to marry. I came along just a few months later.
My father had not married for several years after he’d divorced my mother. His current wife was our Queen Nahla and had produced four sons in a row. Her eldest daughter was only nine. I envied that little princess right now, probably in the royal suite sleeping in comfort.
The king cleared his throat. “Daughters, I know you are all wondering why I have called you here. I have had some very distressing news.”
To my left, I saw my mother clasp her hands. I remained stoic, my attention on the king.
“Our furthest western patrols sent a runner who reported that a man from Zulen has crossed into our borders.”
My sisters murmured, and Finnrey and I exchanged looks.
“What’s Zulen?” Riah whispered loudly.
“Zulen is the kingdom to our west,” the king said, not pretending he hadn’t heard her.
I hadn’t paid as much attention as I should have in geography class, but I knew the names of the original five kingdoms. Two of the kingdoms were very far away.
Zulen and Lorendor were on our western and northern borders, respectively.
Earsleh occupied the middle area of the continent, and the sea was on our east. Far to the south had been the kingdom of Toledev, and the last kingdom, whose name escaped me at the moment, was even further west than Zulen.
A hundred questions suddenly came to mind, most pointedly, how anyone from Zulen could be alive. They’d all died in the outbreak of the red vein virus. I knew better than to speak unless given permission. I clenched my hand and kept silent.
“He was stopped near the forest on the border with Zulen. It’s infested with Hollows, which made it impossible to construct a barrier in that region. Cameed, you have patrolled in the west. We have multiple outposts in lieu of the Barrier in that area.”
Cameed, the eldest sister, bent on one knee and lowered her head.
“That is correct, Father. I have served at eight of the twelve outposts in the west. The mountains in Zulen and the forest act as natural barriers. The numbers of Hollows we see are nowhere near the numbers on the Barrier, but there have been, at times...incursions.”
Incursions was one way to describe the horde that had attacked an outpost a few years ago. Prince Jolen, Finnrey’s full sibling, had barely escaped with his life.
The king looked thoughtful. “Putting aside the fact that we had assumed Zulen had fallen to the Hollows, is there a path from their kingdom to ours?” he asked Cameed.
“Sire, in my opinion, no. That forest is, as you said, infested with Hollows. No one who had ever entered it has come out alive.”
“Rise.” He gestured to Cameed who stood. “This man claims to be a citizen of Zulen—a prince, no less—and he travels with an armed escort.”
We all murmured in surprise at this. Not only would it be shocking for someone to pretend to be from a lost kingdom, who would dare approach Highcastle with armed soldiers?
“This imposter will reach the castle in two days,” my father continued. “When he arrives, we expect he will demand the Claiming Rite.”
Cameed gasped audibly, and Riah took a step back.
I don’t think they knew what the Claiming Rite was any more than I, but the way my father said the words sounded ominous.
Before we could all break protocol and start asking questions, recognized by the king or not, a man I had not known was present hobbled forward.
He used a gnarled walking stick, almost as tall as he was, to aid him.
A young man also stood at his side, ready to steady him.
Stooped and wrinkled, this man with thin white hair and rheumy eyes was Ceba, the oldest person in Earsleh. He had been alive at the beginning of red vein virus, almost a hundred years ago. He had already been a husband and father by then and remembered it quite well.
“Our esteemed Court Historian Ceba will explain the Claiming Rite,” the king said. “I must admit, like you, I had not heard of it.” We all nodded and leaned forward. Ceba’s voice was often hoarse and quiet.
“The Claiming Rite is an ancient ritual,” Ceba began, his paper-thin voice barely audible across the short distance between the dais and we princesses.
Cameed moved closer, and we followed, gathering at the base of the stairs.
The six of us made a half circle, and Ceba seemed to meet each of our eyes in turn.
It was so rare for us to be told openly of our history.
We left that to the designated Court Historian.
The rest of us were taught that defense and fighting were what mattered to our survival, not books and the past. We were encouraged to practice fighting, not waste time reading.
Outside of the schoolroom, I seldom saw books.
I only saw maps on patrol when I was shown what areas I was responsible for.
“The rite existed for thousands of years,” Ceba continued. “The last time it was performed was ninety-seven years ago. I remember it well because it was the year before red vein virus spread to Earsleh. The contender that year was also from Zulen. He failed and returned home, disgraced.”
Ceba leaned on his stick and paused, taking a few raspy breaths.
“I have thought on it, and I believe the last time the rite was successful was two hundred and nineteen years ago. My father told me of it and his father told him. Indeed, my grandfather was Lord High Council”—he gestured to Lord Ashe—“at that time and was ordered to escort the claimed princess to the border.”
I jerked in surprise. What was this rite? Why would a princess be required to leave Earsleh?
“The contender that year was not from Zulen. I cannot remember from which kingdom he hailed. I read through the ancient scrolls—as many as I had time to peruse in the few short hours since the runner from the western patrol came to deliver the news. I could not find any instance when a prince of Zulen was successful in the Claiming Rite.”
“That is good news,” my father said. “Did the scrolls tell you anything of the Zulenii people? No one has seen or heard from the kingdom since the emergence of the virus. Reports I received from the furthest outposts in the west are that the Hollows in the forest and beyond bore the markings of the Zulenii people.”
I almost asked what markings but kept my mouth closed, remembering my place.
Ceba nodded. “From my understanding of Zulen, their fall to the Hollows was predictable. They have always kept to themselves, rather isolated because of natural geography. I understood them to be a peaceful people with little interest in the art of war. They prefer to sing, paint, and dance. They always produced the most skilled artists of the five kingdoms—except in metal work, of course.”
We all nodded. Everyone knew Earsleh had the best metallurgists as metals were our most valuable natural resource.
“If this man and his retinue are truly from Zulen, then our information must be faulty or incomplete,” the king said. “Only a great warrior would survive that infested forest.”
“I will know if he is lying,” Ceba said. “The Zuleniis are easy to recognize by their markings.”
There was the mention of markings again.
“I see,” the king said. “And, assuming this is not an elaborate sham, what motive might this...prince have in coming here and resurrecting the Claiming Rite?”