2. THE MESSAGE, AND THE HAPPY RULER.
Chapter two
THE MESSAGE, AND THE HAPPY RULER.
Leaves rustled behind them as two soldiers appeared. "Your Highnesses," one intoned, "forgive my intrusion, but the King requests your presence in his study."
"Come on." Emeriel turned and followed them.
Aekeira pushed her saddening thoughts away and trailed behind.
King Orestus sat alone in his study, reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. His desk was cluttered with scrolls, while he scribbled on a parchment. At their arrival, he raised his head, his gaze settling on Emeriel first.
"You’re here." He set the quill aside. "I heard about the hunt. You caught the biggest kill again, Emeriel. Good job."
Emeriel bowed stiffly. "Your Majesty."
"Word has reached me that you were trying to join the tournaments for tomorrow."
"Yes, Your Majesty. But the spaces were filled. I should have asked earlier."
Aekeira bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted the metallic tang of blood. Last year Emeriel had taken second place but returned with countless bruises and a fever so severe it took days to break.
At its peak, she had cried out for the grand king, her delirious sobs echoing through the halls. The fever had broken, leaving only the bitter memories.
"The scholars will be here tomorrow." King Orestus looked to Aekeira. "Is your noon free? If it’s not, I can arrange for a postponement—"
"Why do you treat us so?" Emeriel's voice cut through, asking the very question plaguing Aekeira immensely.
"Which way, dear?"
"This way." Emeriel gestured between them. "Like we are actual humans instead of some toys to be passed around to every minister with the fattest coin."
The king's eyes went cold.
"I can’t count how many times you whipped me for interrupting court proceedings growing up," Emeriel stated calmly. "Or how many times you forced Aekeira to teach the scholars, even when she had no food in her belly."
Aekeira shifted uncomfortably.
"Even as a male, you never let me join the tournaments. ‘You’re too feminine,’ you’d say. ‘You’re a laughingstock,’" she mimicked. "'You will be worth more on your back than in the fields.' Do you remember, Your Highness ?"
King Orestus stared at her. "Can a man not change?"
Emeriel scoffed. "Snakes like you do not change their stripes."
"Em!" Aekeira hissed, hotly.
"Don't 'Em' me, he sold us to them!” Emeriel shot back. "Without a second thought, in the blink of an eye, he sold us! He sits here on his high throne pretending, but he doesn't care about us. Not. One. Bit."
"I know that. But making him angry is not the way forward."
"Listen to your sister, Emeriel."
"With all due respect, go and fuck yourself," Emeriel shot back.
"Emeriel!" King Orestus roared.
Aekeira blanched. "Em!!"
Emeriel lifted her chin, her eyes piercing daggers at the king. She had always hated King Orestus, but never before had she openly antagonized and insulted him like this.
"Stop, Em," Aekeira pleaded. "I don’t want you locked up for days without food or water."
Emeriel rolled her eyes. "What do you think, King Orestus? Will you lock me up for days on end? After all, I just blatantly insulted the tyrant king."
King Orestus looked ready to breathe fire.
"Give the order, come on." Emeriel crossed her arms. "It’s only been three years, but surely old age hasn’t made the tyrant king forget how to string those words together. Go ahead, order it."
The silence was as loud as a trumpet.
Eventually King Orestus sighed and rose from his seat, walking to a shelf laden with scrolls. He withdrew two, each decorated with intricate gold patterns on the rods at their ends. The sigil…
It was unmistakable. It existed only in one place.
Aekeira’s heart lurched. Even Emeriel froze, still as a statue.
"I received these the night before your return," King Orestus said calmly. He unrolled one of the scrolls, its parchment crackling softly. He began to read aloud:
From the third ruler of Urai, sovereign of the Urekai, sole monarch of the Western Clans, and protector of the great mountain.
Let this be read under the gaze of the gods and the light of the moon.
To King Orestus, ruler of the human kingdom, Navia.
We deliver back into your hands the princesses of Navia—not to be pawns in your games of pleasure and power. They return to your kingdom under our protection, and let it be known that the eyes of the rulers of Urai watch over them, even from afar.
King Orestus, you will shelter them with every ounce of your strength. You will keep their lives safe from the shadow of harm, and you will treat them with the dignity and respect owed to princesses of royal blood and to those beloved by the most powerful sovereigns of Urai.
But heed this, King Orestus, and mark my words as though they were etched in a rock. Should even a whisper of danger fall upon them, should a single drop of their blood be spilled by your hand or by any under your rule, you will learn the true meaning of wrath. No corner of Navia will be spared my fury. I will kill you and everyone you hold dear.
Except your son. There are fates far more agonizing than death, King Orestus.
I am not merciful. I do not forgive.
By the hand of Vladya Theriozydovkar Skyvakto, the third ruler of Urai.
King Orestus lowered the scroll, his face pale. He reached for the second one, unrolling it with care.
From the Grand Ruler of Urai, great sovereign of the Urekai, sole monarch of the Southern Clans, protector of the Boundless Woodlands and the Celestial Mountains, to King Orestus, tyrant king of the human realm.
Let this be read under the gaze of the seven gods, the light of the moon, and Ukrae.
You will shelter and protect the two females whom we return to you on the morrow, with everything you hold dear.
Since I awoke from five hundred years of madness, one brought on by your people, I have had one thought and one thought alone. To descend upon the human lands like a storm of ruin.
I still consider it, to be quite honest. But do not give me another reason to believe it is a good idea, for let me tell you, King Orestus, I am running out of excuses not to declare war on the humans.
Protect the princesses, for they are the treasures of Urai. If so much as a drop of their blood is spilled, your forests will rise against you. Your mountains will crumble under our number. Your rivers will run dry beneath the stomps of our boots. Your cities will burn. Your fields will wither under fire and ash.
The screams of your people will be the chorus that heralds your kingdom’s fall. Not a single stone of your citadel will remain unscorched.
This is your one and only warning.
I am not merciful, and I do not forgive.
By the hand of Daemonikai Vipertheriov Naelzharoth, Grand King of Urai.
King Orestus lowered the scroll, his face drained of color.
Aekeira had sunk into one of the empty chairs during the reading, her shaky legs unable to hold her any longer. Emeriel sat beside her, just as still.
"It has been two years since I received this," King Orestus said in a strained voice as he carefully placed the letters back on the shelf. "Not once have I had a good night’s sleep since then."
Turning toward them, his gaze was sharp, searching. "I have asked myself over and over. How on earth did these females, sold as slaves, garner the favor of the two most powerful Urekai that ever existed? How did they become 'treasures of Urai' to the extent that I received personal letters from their rulers?"
Aekeira glanced at Emeriel. Her sister’s face was ashen, paler even than King Orestus's, staring ahead, into nothingness. She didn’t blink. She didn’t move.
"They signed their full names," King Orestus added. "Do you understand what that means? As a young lad, my father told me, that in Urekai history, their full names are considered sacred. They are not spoken aloud unless under the gravest of circumstances or to convey a serious message. And here—" he gestured toward the shelf "—they not only sent separate letters, they signed them with their full names."
They sent letters for us. Sent them before our return. Why hadn't Aekeira thought of it before?
Of all the reasons she imagined for King Orestus's change, this had never crossed her mind.
"I want to send you both to the breeding houses." His voice hardened as he turned to Emeriel. "But there is nothing I want more than to punish you for your web of deceit in this kingdom.
"Living disguised as a boy when you are, in fact, a girl?" he spat, voice rising, making Aekeira flinch. "I wish I could nail you to the cross outside!"
Aekeira’s breath caught, and Emeriel tensed beside her, but neither spoke.
"But I cannot." King Orestus’s chest heaved. "You asked why I treat you as I do? Those letters are why. I may not care about many things these days, but I care about my son. Some might argue that I don’t care about my people, but I do. And I know what will happen if I defy those letters."
He turned his full attention to Emeriel. "Anything else you wish to say, Princess Emeriel?"
Emeriel rose and stormed out.
***
"That will be all for today," Grand Lord Zaiper declared, rising from his throne.
The high lords scrambled to their feet, bowing deeply as he swept past. Razarr fell into step beside him. "Your Majesty seems to be in a great mood today."
"Oh, Razarr. Every new day comes with its own brand of happiness, is what it is."
Walking through the corridors of Greyrock, slaves scurried out of his path, eyes cast down, avoiding even the air around him. They do not deserve to share the same space as me.
"Grand Lord Zaiper." A voice he knows all too well stopped him.
Turning with an exaggerated whirl of his robes, a full smile plastered on Zaiper's face. "If it isn't Lord Ottai. Tell me, how are you, my dear friend?"
The fourth ruler’s glare was coated with disgust.
"I know what this is about," Zaiper crossed his arms smugly. "Go on, ask me."
"I heard you ordered the execution of those men. Is that true?" Ottai asked, furious.
"Of course it is. They stole grain. They deserved to die."
"We do not kill over the crime of stealing. What the hell is wrong with you?” Ottai hissed, stepping closer, his face inches from Zaiper's. “We have punishments, atonement. Death is not how we handle this!"
"Perhaps, before,” Zaiper conceded with a shrug. “But I'm thinking of changing things around here. It’s come to my attention that we’ve been far too kind."
"You cannot execute four of our people because they were hungry enough to steal grain for their families!" Ottai's rage flared hotter. "One of them has a pregnant bondmate! She needed food!"
"All excuses, Ottai." Zaiper barely suppresses a yawn. "We must send a message that famine is no excuse for theft. Why face public humiliation in death when you could simply die from hunger?"
The fourth ruler gave him a look of pure hatred and revulsion. If they weren’t in such a public space, Zaiper had no doubt the grand lord would have thrown a punch. All of this over four worthless nobodies? Ottai is so boring.
"The grand king would never have allowed this!" Ottai spat.
"The grand king hasn't been to court in over a year. The grand king can barely pull himself out of his own head long enough to recognize reality. He doesn't even know there's a critical famine in his kingdom." Zaiper hated referring to his kingdom as Daemonikai's, but he needed to make a point. "So do not stand there lecturing me on what 'the grand king' would or wouldn't allow. The male is half-dead. The living have to move on."
“You speak with such callousness, words unbefitting of a ruler. You have ruled beside Daemonikai for over three thousand years. You should be better than this."
Zaiper sucked teeth, waving Ottai off. "Oh, stop being so prim and proper , Ottai. It's not a good look on you. How does sweet Morina even tolerate this self-righteous attitude? You are just as responsible for what happens in court as I am."
The male reared back. "Never! I—"
"If you’d bothered to show up in court, you could have been part of the decision-making. All of this—no, some of this—could have been said in court. Instead, you waste your time out here, lecturing me like a young lad." Zaiper's voice dropped an octave. "Maybe if you spent less time caring for two lost causes, you might actually make a difference."
Ottai’s face twisted in fury. "You think I don’t know what you are doing? You think I don’t see through your games? You want the throne, Zaiper. You want to be Grand King ."
Zaiper didn’t bother correcting him. He no longer aspired to be Grand King. His ambitions had grown, evolved into something far greater.
He now wanted it all. To be the sole ruler.
The one to reshape Urai under his reign.
"You think terrorizing our people, executing them over minor crimes like stealing grain or having a beastflare in public gatherings—something beyond anyone’s control—you think that is going to get you what you want? These people fear you, Zaiper. They will never support you. They will never vote you in."
"Ah, but that’s the beauty of it, Lord Ottai." Zaiper smirked, draping an arm around Ottai’s stiff shoulders, pulling him along.
Ottai’s entire body tensed at the contact, but he had little choice but to walk with him. “I do not need their votes. Daemonikai is gone. Don't get me started on Vladya. And you? You care more about them than you do your own people. I’m the only one left."
Ottai looked away, guilty. The male looked more exhausted than Zaiper had ever seen him, beaten down by the weight of the past year.
"So, tell me, Ottai." Zaiper pulled him a little closer. "Why would I need their vote when I am all they have left?"
"You disgust me."
Grinning, Zaiper released Ottai. "And you, dear Ottai, amuse me. We both know this isn’t where you want to be. You should be off—taking food to Vladya, perhaps? Tending to your fallen friends like the dutiful little servant. Go on, then. Return to your duties and leave the running of the kingdom to me,"he smirked. "After all, there is no hand more capable than mine."
Zaiper strode off, his laughter echoing behind him.
The fourth ruler had already lost the battle. He had no cards to play, no weapons in his arsenal.
The kingdom was already Zaiper’s for the taking.
Nothing stood in his way. Absolutely nothing.