34. Alar #2
"Lemil says that many recover from this, especially when provided with proper care.
The legs are not a big obstacle, either.
A king doesn't need legs to rule. He rules with his mind, his name, and his bearing, and Arlen has all three as he always did.
There are precedents of kings with physical impediments.
King Rvos the Sixth of Arudon was blind in one eye and wore a patch.
He was well respected and even feared. No one ever questioned his fitness. "
"Rvos lost that eye in battle, and it happened years after he was already crowned. A reigning monarch may acquire an impediment and remain on the throne. That is not the same as crowning someone who's already suffering from the same affliction."
I'd known he would say that.
"King Namron the Third of Penvasita lost a leg to an infected wound and ruled from a chair for the last eleven years of his reign."
"Also a battle injury," my father said. "Also a reigning king."
I leaned forward. "Arlen might not be a reigning monarch, but he acquired his injuries in service of the Crown.
He took a grenade meant for the king. He shielded you with his own body.
He didn't hesitate, and he would do it again even though he knows what it would cost him.
That is not a disqualifying frailty, Father.
That is the single most honorable thing any man can do for his family, and he deserves a Medal of Honor and a place in the histories for his sacrifice.
Instead, you've chosen to bury what happened so no one will ever know what he did, and as a reward you stripped him of his birthright and intend to ship him to Tarina like a shameful secret that needs to be hidden in the farthest corner of the Federation, the smallest province there is. "
It was a gamble, to go on the offensive and guilt my father.
He could turn kingly on me in a heartbeat, call it disrespect, and have me out the door with the matter closed and my access revoked.
I’d considered everything and concluded the risk was worth it, because nothing else I had would move him when he'd already made up his mind.
I had to shake him hard. I held my breath as I awaited his response.
He glared at me, the water ran in the background, making those soft gurgling sounds that were supposed to be soothing, and the moment stretched until I was certain my gamble had backfired.
Then the air went out of him, and his shoulders sagged. The king receded, and what was left was a tired father.
"What would you have me do, Alar?" he asked, and there was no anger in it, only weariness.
"I am trying to do the right thing for everyone and salvage the situation.
I have a maimed heir who cannot bear a loud noise without coming apart, a council full of men who would feast on any weakness, and an enemy I cannot identify who put a grenade through my window.
This was the best solution I could come up with.
If you have a better one, then I'll gladly hear it. "
I felt weak with relief, but I held his gaze and didn't show it.
"The only thing Arlen has to overcome is the soldiers' affliction, and I'm going to help him do that.
Give me the time between now and the ball.
He doesn't have to be wholly recovered by then.
He only has to be steady enough so we can be reassured that he can eventually get better and be presentable at the ball.
The deeper healing can go on for as long as it takes afterward.
It's not as though you intend to hand him the throne next month. "
My father studied me for a long moment.
"You seem confident in your ability to help him. What are you basing it on?"
I didn't want to tell him about Kailin and the attempts on her life, and I hadn't even given him the letter Saphir had written him yet.
I needed to tread carefully.
Then it occurred to me that I didn't need to tell my father about the assassination attempts. Kailin had been terrified of heights when I'd met her, and that fear had been as irrational and as debilitating as Arlen's fear of loud noises.
"A friend of mine, someone I care deeply about, was afraid of heights.
Terrified is a better description of her affliction.
Imagine a mountain dweller who is terrified of getting too close to the edge of a mountain path and has to cling to the rock wall to take her next step.
Now imagine the courage it took to climb on top of a dragon's back and become a rider. "
"Did she?"
I nodded. "She did."
"How?"
"With a lot of help from her friends. If she can fly, Arlen can rule. It's as simple as that. I know how to help him get over his fear."
I didn't mention that among those helpful friends was a dragon who'd fed her his energy and calmed her mind. My father didn't need to know the details.
He let out a long breath through his nose and nodded.
"You have five weeks."
"Five? The ball isn't for six."
"If it doesn't work, I need at least a week to get things settled, and that's cutting it dangerously close. But I love Arlen, and if there is a chance to bring him back, I will do what I can to give it to him."
I had been so stunned to hear my father say he loved Arlen that, for a moment, I was speechless. I knew he loved all of us, but he never expressed it in words.
Five weeks, then. I'd been home two days, and the time felt too short to fix the damage the grenade had done to my brother's mind, but five weeks was what I had, and I would take it.
"It will be done in five weeks, then," I said.
"On one condition." My father raised a finger.
"I will not have you bully your brother into a throne he can't carry because you don't want it.
If, five weeks from now, Arlen comes to me himself and tells me he wishes to remain heir, and that he believes he can handle it, then it is done.
He stays, and you are off the hook, at least for the time being.
But it must come from him, freely, in his own words.
Not from you. I'll not build the future of Catonia and the entire Federation on a man talked into pretending he's well by a brother who wants out. "
"I would never bully Arlen into this. You have my word," I said.
I should have felt triumphant.
I'd come for a chance and walked away with one, but I hadn't missed my father's remark about my reprieve being temporary. He'd agreed to consider keeping Arlen heir, but I was still the stand-in.
In my father's mind, the line ran from Arlen to me, and the three brothers between us were not in the reckoning. They had never been the buffer I'd assumed they were. If Arlen failed, I was the heir. But that was a worry for another day.
I had five weeks of more urgent ones.
"There's also the matter of the betrothals," I said. "If Arlen remains heir, then I'm the fifth son again, and Princess Ailadi of Morila was promised to the future King of Catonia, not the fifth or even the second in line. That's not what King Osrec and Queen Ralehari agreed to."
My father waved a hand. "That is your mother's department. She handles the marriage negotiations. Talk to her."
I arched a brow. "You just told me she isn't well and that I shouldn't upset her."
"This won't upset her." He picked his pen back up, indicating that the audience was over. "Tell her your plan for Arlen. It will give her hope."