8. Ikar
Ikar
Vera fairly runs from the room, and I look Jethonan in the eye when the door shuts behind her. He smiles like a smug cat.
“What was that about?” I ask, perturbed at his behavior.
“You should thank me for producing such an astounding plan to save the kingdom. It’s going better than I ever imagined.” He bends to inspect the empty jar again, tapping the glass twice before he stands with a gleeful smile.
I lift an eyebrow. “I’ll give you credit for finding the information, but until I’ve accomplished the mission—to find the flower and a Black Tulip—I don’t think we should bask in our success.”
“Oh, we’ll be successful,” Jethonan says, as if it’s a known fact, as he tosses me the vial of purple sand. “It pains me to say that I don’t know if you’ll need that. It’s one of the best weapons I’ve come up with to fight gloam to date, but I think the originator you found just might be better.”
“Is there something I should know…?” I ask, frowning over his antics.
“No, no. Press on, Your Majesty.”
It’s not the first time I’ve been left confused by his behavior, so I let it go. “How do I use this?” I shake the bottle a little.
“A few pinches thrown at gloam creatures should obliterate them.”
“And have you created anything to make me a worthy king?” I ask somewhat sarcastically to hide the actual doubt and fear I feel as I walk toward the door.
It’s the one thing that could ruin this entire plan.
If Lucentia doesn’t deem me worthy, no matter how long and far we search, no matter if we find the Field of Tulips…
no flower will be given to me. I was raised to be a king.
Confidence isn’t something I lack when it comes to my knowledge of the kingdom, weaponry, or even how to rule my people.
But my worthiness has been in question since my mark began to turn black years ago, and I can’t seem to get past the constant visual reminder.
“I could try, but it’s unnecessary,” Jethonan mumbles as he grabs an armful of ingredients from a tall cabinet across from his desk.
I’m about to lunge forward to catch them when one begins to slip—who knows what sort of smell or potion might be released if one of those breaks?
But he catches it just in time and returns to his desk.
I take a deep breath. The man stresses me out like no other. If he wasn’t so blazing brilliant…
“I am confident you will return with a tulip.” He raises his brow at the same time he lifts a finger as a thought comes to mind.
“On that note!” I watch as Jethonan scurries across the room with robes flying behind him and pulls a long, aged wood box with intricate tulips engraved all around it from beside a nearby shelf and hands it to me.
“I was forced to dig this out of the royal archives amidst piles of dust and old tomes in the depths of the castle. An adventure I hope to never repeat.”
I smirk. “So glad to hear you survived.”
“As am I, my lord,” he says ever so seriously. “It will keep the flower healthy until you’re ready to use it. At least, that’s what the records say.”
I take it in my hands, rubbing a thumb across the engravings. “About that worthiness potion—”
“Unnecessary.”
“Just look into it,” I say sternly. It pains me to sound so under-confident.
Jethonan sighs in an overly patient sort of way. “I will attempt to come up with one, but I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
I nod once and head for the door, but I hear him mutter, “The things he asks of me,” beneath his breath, and I can’t help but smile.
I close the door behind me, only to find Nadiette waiting in the dim hall.
“You mentioned we could speak before you leave,” she says quietly.
I incline my head. “Walk with me.”
We stroll down the dim hallway, and I notice the way her eyes latch on to the box in my hands.
She frowns. “What’s that?”
“It will keep the flower safe until I’m ready to use it.”
The crease between her brows deepens and she purses her lips.
Part of me misses the comfortable relationship we had before, so easy and natural.
It’s gone now, replaced with a somewhat forced and stilted tension.
I know it’s my fault. But what is a king to do?
I’m duty bound to my kingdom, and my people will always come before my own personal interests or desires.
Still, there’s a sort of sadness that comes with realizing the feelings I had for her all this time were little more than a strong bond of friendship.
Vera taught me that. My feelings for her are stronger than I’ve felt for any other woman, but it can’t be love.
Heavy attraction and infatuation is all it is, I’m sure.
It doesn’t matter either way; she’s yet one more woman unavailable to me.
I pull my thoughts back to Nadiette and remind myself that she has been a friend since childhood, one who stood by my side in many battles and will for more in the future. That alone inclines me to listen.
She clasps her hands together in front of her as we walk and takes a deep breath, as if gathering her courage. “Please reconsider our relationship, Ikar. I’ve had time to think while you’ve been away these last weeks, and I realize how much I truly care for you. I missed you dearly.”
Missed me dearly? Did I miss her dearly?
I feel guilty that she didn’t cross my mind nearly as much as she should have for someone I thought I loved romantically.
I miss Vera to the point of distraction and the urge to leave all responsibility behind to ensure she’s safe.
To hear her laugh. To just be with her… has it ever been that way with Nadiette? I frown.
We continue walking the lonely halls, empty besides the guards who salute as I pass, and the stray servant here and there. Everything else is quiet now that most of the castle has bedded down. I have no desire to hurt her more than I already have. But only one thing matters.
I start slowly. “I explained to you that I need a Black Tulip to restore lucent magic—to repair my kingdom.” I look at her apologetically, only to see her looking at the ground and blinking quickly. Don’t cry. I grit my teeth. Guilt presses on my chest, uncomfortable and hot.
She seems to gain control of her emotions after a moment, and I visibly see her shoulders set.
She lifts her slightly watery gaze to mine.
“You don’t see though, Ikar. I know we can fix this together.
We are both magically powerful individuals.
Any children we have, I’m sure, will have the power to fix this.
Your father married and quickly sired an heir—you.
Adding more lucent to the mark and extending lucent magic for the kingdom.
You must do the same. We’re running out of time.
Marry me and ensure the kingdom continues.
Give us time to figure it out together,” she pleads.
For a moment, her plan is tempting. Though I’ve come to realize that I never loved Nadiette, we’ve always had a strong friendship. She’s beautiful, capable, respected by my people. We get along well. What if I chose that route? The thought sours quickly.
“My kingdom will likely fall before an heir has a chance to be born. And even if it didn’t, you cannot guarantee me a male heir. But none of that matters because while your plan may delay complete devastation, it doesn’t fix anything.”
“It’s Jethonan, isn’t it?” I see the anger in the set of her mouth. “He doesn’t know everything, Ikar. He doesn’t know that the low kings are worried about you. That they could… mutiny, if you don’t…”
I shoot her a livid look, and she stops speaking.
“Listen to them?” I finish her sentence with a deadly note to my voice.
“I’m not a child, Nadiette. This is my kingdom, my responsibility.
I was born into this position, raised to be the high king, and I am duty bound to protect my people.
I will do whatever I have to for my people.
The low kings are nothing. I’m aware that they don’t agree with restoring Black Tulips to their rightful place in the kingdom.
They’re cowards, unable to see that there’s no other way. ”
Her eyes are wide with surprise and a hint of defiance. One of the low kings, Waylon Orlet, is her uncle, but she must understand.
“Your position as high king is in danger!” She shouts, her hands fisted at her sides.
I finally stop and face her. “No more than before… unless you told them my plans.”
She looks as if I slapped her as guilt floods her features. I have my answer.
“I will marry and bridge with a Black Tulip to save my kingdom,” I grind out.
If I can find one, that is, but I don’t add that. I also don’t mention what the backup plan is. No one knows that but me.
I stride away, leaving her in the shadows, but I hear the sorrowful tone in her words behind me. “You’re too stubborn, Ikar. Too noble. Don’t let it be your downfall.”
I continue walking.