Chapter 6 #2
“And... what about you?” Kinlear asked. “What about...us?”
Their parents couldn’t just separate the two of them. They were a pair. They had been together since before birth. And though their mother tried her best to keep them apart, these days...the twins still always found each other.
When Kinlear stepped out of line, Arawn was always there to help recenter him. To save him from overpaying on penance.
When Arawn was too stiff and saintly, Kinlear was always there to make life more interesting for him. To make him do what he so rarely did: smile.
Now, they’d be almost a whole kingdom apart.
“But we need each other,” Kinlear said softly.
He felt a familiar, disgusting burn behind his eyes.
You will not cry, he told himself.
It would only make him look weaker.
He was so damned tired of looking weak.
He wasn’t sure if it was from sadness or rage that the tears threatened to fall. He knew, already, that he would have no choice in the matter. Though he supposed he never had, when it came to his own fate.
“Don’t,” Arawn said, sitting taller as he noticed Kinlear’s emotions.
Their eyes locked, and his voice took on that kingly tone he was so good at.
He’d been studying their father. But Kinlear knew Arawn would someday make a far better king.
A kinder king...the type who’d once paid penance when it was meant for his brother instead.
“Even if you’re in Touvre, and I’m in Augaurde.
...we were born a team. I won’t rule without you, Kinlear.
Not for even a minute. You’ll be back in no time.
Just prove to them that you’re worth it. ”
It was easy for him to say. Arawn had never had to prove himself.
He was born a winner. By default, the gods had already given him first place.
Doubt crept into Kinlear’s mind.
What would become of Arawn, when Kinlear was gone? Would he become more like their father? Their mother? Would his soft edges harden, honed like a weapon, until he had no heart left?
Would he turn on Kinlear, too...the way the others had?
“Swear it,” Kinlear blurted.
Arawn blinked back at him. “What?”
“Swear it on the Five,” Kinlear said, “that you will always be loyal to me. And I will always be loyal to you. No matter what happens.”
He held out his hand, the one swollen and covered in a fresh mark of penance.
“The Sacred do not swear...” Arawn said, staring back at him. “And besides, I don’t—”
“Just do it,” Kinlear said, sighing. And when Arawn still didn’t take his hand, he whispered, “I’ll tell Soraya you like her if you don’t.”
At that, Arawn’s eyes went wide.
He reached for Kinlear’s hand, a mirror to his own, and swore it.
“So, I suppose my fate has been decided,” Kinlear said, leaning back in his chair. “I’ll go south and become a great and pious Scribe, while you train and grow bigger than a war bear. And someday, I’ll be the one that prepares your gear for battle when you’re king.”
“I hope you train well, in Touvre, then,” Arawn said. He paused. “Oh, and... I got you this.”
“A parting gift?” Kinlear asked. “How considerate of you to remember your lowly little brother, Crown Prince.”
Arawn rolled his eyes as he reached into his pocket and gruffly passed him something small and round. A stone. He lifted his own hand, where he had a second one. “You hold it, see? And then...”
Kinlear’s stone warmed, and suddenly his brother’s voice spoke as clear as day, in his mind.
“And then we’ll have a way to speak to each other while we’re apart.”
Kinlear grinned.
“You’re just giving this to me now?” He thought back. “Imagine, Arawn, the things we could have done with these, all these years!”
Arawn frowned. “That’s exactly why I didn’t give it to you until now.”
The stone cooled as Arawn placed his own into his cloak pocket, and his voice left Kinlear’s mind.
“Not every set can stretch kingdom-wide, and of course they won’t last forever, but...” he shrugged. “These will do for a while. Mother won’t be able to intercept our ravens.”
“How much did this cost?” Kinlear asked, eyes wide.
Arawn shrugged. “A few diamonds.”
“You don’t have any diamonds.”
“You do,” Arawn said.
At that, Kinlear laughed, and placed his own stone in his pocket. “You’ll be untouchable with the runes I learn to create, in Touvre. Then someday, when we’re older...you and me, the Knight and the Scribe? We’ll be the greatest prince team Lordach has ever---”
Something shifted inside of him.
A tickle in his throat...a little hiccupping gasp that came on without warning. It felt like the illness inside of him suddenly slashed a claw against his lungs. Gods, it ached, and when it started, he never knew when it would quit.
He held up a hand as he tried to cough through it.
“It’s....fine...” Kinlear gasped.
He could feel his lungs quivering. With each breath, it was as if someone had filled them with shards of glass.
Not fine, then.
It would be another bad fit.
“Kinlear?” Arawn asked. His blue eyes went wide as Kinlear kept coughing.
As the illness deep within his bones attacked.
It wanted him to die; it wanted him to drown.
“W-water,” Kinlear gasped, bending over as he heaved.
Arawn rushed for the water pitcher that the servants always left at his bedside. But he’d barely gotten a glass to Kinlear’s lips when the world grew fuzzy at the edges. He slumped forward over his knees, gasping for breath that would not come as he tumbled from his chair and hit the floor.
“Kinlear!” Arawn shouted.
His face grew in and out of focus. Kinlear felt blood on his lips, tasted it on his tongue.
He swore he could feel it sloshing in his lungs.
“HELP! SOMEONE HELP!” Arawn screamed.
He turned and ran from the room.
The world went dark.
Later...after his monster had killed him again...
Kinlear woke in a plush bed in Touvre, his skin covered in stasis runes. His body, as far south as one could get from the Citadel. Out of the way. Exactly where his mother and father wanted him to be.
As the months passed, he was given a tonic to wear around his neck. He was to drink it each time he felt the illness coming on.
He was given a new cane. He was to use it with every step, for his mother was tired of seeing how often he winced.
He carried each like a lifeline, though as he grew, they became more like shackles, holding him down so that someday, he could be claimed by the grave.
It would be years before Kinlear saw his brother in person again.