CHAPTER XVIII #8
“Lady Alexis has declined all attempts to share the text from the book until she met with you, father. Our requests remain denied.”
“Alex…” the King says my name in awe.
He reaches for my hand on the table, fingers gripping mine tightly and prompting me to turn away from Keane.
“You are a treasure.”
I don’t know how to respond, just let the King squeeze my hand as he looks on with an encouraging gaze.
I take another heavy drink of whiskey and then place the glass down on the table with a deep sigh, knowing, as Keane’s gaze told me, that there is truly no running from the words this time.
I’ll have to tell the group of the text that has haunted me in my sleep since reading the words in that frozen room, will have to tell them of the text that I know will send us all forward and into a new world, a new life, and a life I’m not sure I am ready for yet…
“You are ready for it, dear,” King Zander nods and releases our hands, “I knew it the moment you stepped foot in our court last night. You have grown considerably since your last travel Alex, and it shines through.”
Keane shifts on his feet from across the table.
I continue to look at the King, still quiet and hesitant as he gives me another small smile before sitting back in his chair.
I quickly glance over to Cal, needing his friendliness and assurance and his big smile before I continue on.
He doesn’t disappoint. Cal gives me a sly grin in and shrugs his shoulders, as if to say, it’s no big deal, Alex, whatever it is we’ll tackle it together.
I slowly nod at his easy response, grateful for my friend as I let his easiness wash over me.
I bring my hand up to Stormfall and he immediately takes a step onto my wrist, knowing exactly why I’m reaching out to him.
He jumps down on the table with his yellow eyes directed on mine, his chest angled and proud in its stance.
“The words didn’t read like text from a book or a novel…” I begin quietly, turning towards the Discerni twins as I catch their blue-green gazes in question, “but instead they fashioned themselves as a prophecy of sorts.”
Holis and Mana nod earnestly, their Discerni features narrowed and watching both me and Stormfall.
“The words spoke of…”
I frown and look back to Storm in unknown validation, losing myself to his bright yellow depths.
“Well, I think they spoke of the humans of the Old World. I think they spoke of me.”
Stormfall gives a loud caw in confirmation just as Zander lets out a deep breath.
The King nods his head, settling farther into his chair as he brings a hand to his temple in contemplation.
I slowly peer at Keane with a frantic heart, my breath catching in my chest as he looks over me with heavy intensity, also deep in thought.
“What exactly were the words, Lady Alexis?” Desmond inquires from my left, fingers slowly fiddling with the rim of his glass.
I avert my gaze from Keane and take another long drink of whiskey, not yet ready to make the words real. Because I know once I do that the men will all come to the same conclusion that I have… A conclusion I’m not sure I agree with.
No.
A conclusion I know I don’t agree with.
My gaze finds Stormfall again.
The Bird of Ash takes a few steps closer, reaching his head down to brush the side of his face against my fingers. I grimace at the text engrained in my mind before taking a long breath and reciting it fully.
“Born of greed and desperation, through no fault of their own… Settled into the Old World, forgotten and alone. Protected by fire, deceived by water, harbored at times by earth, Air awaits their long-lost abilities, in hopes of a rebirth. The Ancients slept as the World collides, but one hero lover remembered to provide…”
Did Stormfall’s eyes just flash gold?
“She who is touched by the Bird of Ash will see them all reborn… The consequences of that, however, are yet to be learned.”
I bow my head to Storm with a heavy and constricted chest. Golem takes a step forward as I notice Zander outstretch his hand behind him, the King reaching from the magical creature for something while still looking at me.
“One more time, Alex. Slower.”
I nod to my King and repeat the words, the recital just as hard as the first.
“The first few sentences are certainly pertaining to the humans of the Old World,” King Zander looks at the paper in his hands and the words he wrote on it, “can we all agree on that?”
Holis and Mana are the first to nod, both still leaning towards Storm and I and not hiding the excitement showing across their features.
Cal settles back in his chair, frowning slightly as he looks at the King.
I turn slightly to Desmond and notice that he has reverted to his hard and dark Discerni features, his emotions closed off though his eyes still narrowed on his drink in thought.
And finally, slowly, I turn in my seat and look at Keane, his brown eyes catching and holding mine with both kindness and a little bit of sadness in them.
“I understand now…” he says quietly, words directed only for me.
My chest constricts again.
“I understand why you wanted to push them away. ”
I nearly break down at his gaze, so comforting from so far.
Does he really understand, now, why I pushed them back and rejected Hirovale so vehemently? Why I refuse to be a part of his plot, of his story that is already heading forward without my consent?
My hand shakes as I reach out for the glass in front of me. Keane takes a small step forward as if wanting to take it in his, but he stops himself just slightly as I grip the drink. I wait for my trembling to stop and let Stormfall rest his beak on my wrist again, smiling at the small comfort.
“Protected by fire,” Desmond says thoughtfully, repeating the words.
He turns to his father with a hard look in his eyes. “Deceived by water, harbored at times by earth…”
“This is Woodlands, father,” he states coolly, “we’ve allowed it to go on for too long.”
Keane turns his stance towards his father, his brows furrowing as he takes a sip of his whiskey in an agreeing nod.
Zander grimaces from his chair but doesn’t say a word, though I’m glad Desmond has brought this up.
The four of us from Knowledge are still completely unaware as to what exactly is happening in the Woodlands Court of Disce.
Any information the King can provide would be helpful, but he just rubs his temple even harder.
“Father…”
“They are not being harmed,” Zander replies in hard resolute.
“They are also not being treated as their kind should be, as anyone in the Old World should be,” Keane takes a strong step forward, dropping his whiskey down on the table, “their homes are slums. They’re taught that they are second-class beings, and their lifespans are half of those in Warrior and Knowledge.
They may not be physically harmed, but they are harbored under false pretenses and taught to resent their neighbors and glorify the Discerni. ”
I openly balk at Keane’s words, as do Cal, Holis and Mana. We all glance back and forth between King Zander and his son, not quite believing what Keane just said but still looking at the King in accusation, nonetheless.
“Your brother is handling Woodlands,” Zander looks first to Keane and then to Desmond, “you both know this.”
Keane laughs at his father. Outright laughs.
“Don’t tell me you consider the Temple City of Alston and the small village of Etter as a good handle on Woodlands.
You’ve seen the humans there. You’ve seen their eyes trained on the ground and the way they’re sectioned away from the Discerni.
They may not be harmed, but they damn well aren’t afforded the dignity a being of this Old World deserves. ”
King Zander remains quiet, watching as Keane leans down to grip the edge of the table tightly.
“But if you think those are good examples of how the people in Woodlands should live, then what of Dankworth, La Cour, and Aeria? How long will it take for Troy to handle those cities?”
He glances over to his brother, as if asking for his approval on what he’s going to say next. Desmond gives the Prince a hard nod before Keane looks back at his father, “we have half a mind to take Fensby for Warrior.”
Ancients.
They want to claim a large Woodlands city under Warrior rule?
The King sits up slowly, his brows tightening in anger at Keane before he glances at Desmond.
“You’ve had these discussions without my council?” he asks in a dead calm.
Desmond nods just as Keane replies coldly for the both of them. “We have.”
Zander scoffs in disbelief, “you will start a war within our Kingdom.”
“One we are prepared to fight if it means the humans of Woodlands are treated with the proper respect they deserve.”
My heart drops at Keane’s words, watching as he pushes off the table and folds his arms across his chest again.
This is regal Keane, Prince Keane, one whose feigned indifference and cool demeanor is a facade to the intense and determined emotions brewing underneath.
He is serious about Fensby, deathly serious, and the look he gives his father is willing him to take note of it.
“Woodlands will not be won by force, Keane,” the King shakes his head.
“For how much longer, then?” he asks, “how much longer do we continue to let this go on? How much longer do we continue to let the humans in our lands be subjugated to a cruel life? How much longer do we give Troy?”
“We are still relocating,” Desmond adds, his voice also cool, “but the numbers have grown exponentially. While we try to disperse them within Warrior, we are running out of room. And from what I’ve seen of Loughty, the same holds true there. Woodlands needs to correct itself, father. Soon.”
“The four of us will sit down,” King Zander replies definitively, ending the discussion, “we will work with your brother on a new path forward. But you will not claim Fensby.”