Chapter 3
Chapter Three
ANU
A cross the river, wheat fields swayed in the rare June breeze, their golden stalks billowy beneath the brilliant blue sky.
Below, moored boats bobbed with the current, tethers straining against the docks. A group of young children along the bank pointed excitedly at a trout leaping out of the water, snagging a dragonfly mid-flight. Merchants moved up and down the riverfront transporting carts piled high with everything from hand-carved furniture to vegetables and casts of wine.
High above, Alaric braced both arms on the bridge railing. His people, his kingdom. Blissful in the abundance of the season and eager to begin the celebrations of summer solstice.
He drummed his fingers against the stone. Most here had never traveled outside of the realm. Did they ever ponder what it would be like to live in a place with only one season? Such as Ventus in its perpetual fall. Or Gerra, forever heavy with the weight of summer, never a hint of winter’s icy kiss.
Earth would surely be a shock, the realm so vast that all four seasons could prosper on the same day somewhere across its sweeping territory. What would his people think of taking a plane from an arid desert to a frigid tundra within the span of a few hours?
“Please tell me you have someone in line to take the throne if you jump,” Stefen drawled beside him.
Alaric rolled his shoulders as he straightened, every muscle in his body a shrieking reflection of his thoughts. Too many late nights pouring over old scripts. The days consumed with nagging worry and relentless suspicion.
He glanced sideways at his younger brother. “You, of course.”
Stefen gave him a sideways grin. “Now I know you’ve given up all hope.”
Alaric pushed off the railing. “Tell me of Rigel’s progress.” They matched steps. “Are you any closer to establishing a faction here?”
He did not need to look over his shoulder to know two castle guards kept his brother and him in sight, hands close to the pommel of their swords.
“About as close as you are to confessing what has you all…” Stefen studied him as they walked. “Pensive.”
“Come now, Stefen, that’s what kings do. Contemplate what’s best for their kingdom.”
“You forget, I’ve seen you in every mental state there are descriptions for. Pensive has never been one of them.” Stefen clasped his hands behind his back. “Not outside of closed doors anyway.”
Two ladies of the court passed them. Alaric couldn’t recall their names, but the downcast eyes tracked him and his brother, curiosity barely contained behind their lowered lashes.
Alaric stopped and faced his brother. “If I promise to indulge you later tonight, will you stop asking me now?”
Stefen merely grinned. “But of course, Your Majesty.”
Alaric narrowed his eyes and resumed his pace, walking away from his brother. “Asshole.”
Stefen laughed heartily. “I never claimed otherwise.”