Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
T he grandeur of the palace overwhelmed Leander as he stood next to Prince Jarryn of Desanne in the opulent throne room belonging to Vyrica’s king, its marble floors reflecting the flickering light of torches hanging around the room.
The air hummed with anticipation and no small amount of animosity as the pair awaited the arrival of the king.
They had arrived within seconds of each other and were both equally surprised to find the other in attendance, called before the king. Neither of them had, evidently, known the other had been summoned, but Jarryn’s presence here gave Leander a shrewd idea as to why.
The pair watched in silence as the king ambled in at a sedate pace and took his seat upon his throne, which was adorned with intricate carvings. Once sat, he surveyed the two men before him as if they were disobedient children .
His voice cut through the silence like a call to arms. “Lord Leander, Prince Jarryn,” the king began, his tone heavy with the burden of dealing with the constant bickering of his two guests.
“This kingdom yearns for unity against the threat at our borders, yet division festers from within our very midst.”
Prince Jarryn’s brow furrowed, a flicker of confusion dancing in his eyes. Beside him, Leander regarded the king with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.
“We stand at a crossroads,” King Caisa continued, his gaze unwavering. “The rift between the two of you has not been a secret, to put it mildly. It threatens not only the stability of this realm, but the very essence of the legacy we leave behind for generations to come.”
A moment of silence hung heavy in the air, the weight of the king’s words sinking deep into the hearts of the prince and the demigod.
“It is for this reason,” the king declared, his voice resonating with quiet resolve. “That I decree you shall both embark on a mission of unity and reconciliation within our own borders.”
It took a moment for Leander to process this order from Caisa.
Jarryn did not have this problem and was replying almost instantly with a painful expression on his face. “Your Majesty, I fail to see how a state visit will resolve our differences.”
Caisa’s expression was stern, and once again Leander was made to feel like a wayward child. “It is imperative that you and Leander find common ground.”
“Your Majesty,” Leander spoke up, his eyes flashing with defiance though he managed to temper his tone, “I harbour no ill will towards Prince Jarryn. It is he who cannot see beyond his prejudices.”
“They are not prejudices when they are justified and anyone can see my concerns plain as day,” Jarryn cut in viciously.
Caisa raised a hand and the pair fell silent. “Peace. You are both young and have much to learn. I do not fault you for your tomfool ideals about the gods, Jarryn. I appreciate your loss of faith. But equally you must respect our culture and beliefs. Leander is an honoured guest.”
Leander couldn’t help the smirk that fell onto his face as he cast a sideways glance in Jarryn’s direction.
“And you”—Leander snapped back to attention as Caisa addressed him directly—“I have made it clear that you are yet to gain my trust, regardless of who your mother is.”
Caisa stood up and began pacing. Both Leander and Jarryn had to move out of the way to avoid him colliding into them.
When he next spoke, he addressed them both.
“We are on the brink of war, in no small part due to Prince Jarryn’s presence in this city.
And I find it far too much of a coincidence that a disgraced demigod shows up on my doorstep mere days after the disgraced prince. ”
Out of the corner of his eye, Leander recognised that Jarryn was looking at him. He kept his silent gaze on the king.
“I suppose I will receive some flowery, but utterly meaningless, response if I ask you what you did to deserve being cast so violently out of Estalian. Is that right, Leander? ”
Wetting his lips, Leander did little more than nod his response.
But, in that moment, he wondered what would happen if he did admit the truth. Would the gods punish him further? Would the mortals?
What if Jarryn decided to return to Desanne armed with this new knowledge, perhaps with Leander at his side to try to undo his lie.
Powerless as he was, even if his lie hadn’t taken root so easily, there was no simple way to just admit it.
The world would not be righted so effortlessly, so straightforwardly.
The king sighed. “A pity.”
“You cannot trust the demigod but you’ll send me away on a diplomatic mission? Alone with him?”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Jarryn. I don’t trust either of you to a diplomatic mission alone. I doubt very much that either of you live with Vyrica’s best interests at heart. No, you will have company. My son, Lucien, and Leander’s brother, Verin, will be accompanying the pair of you.”
Leander hid his grin. Finally something was going his way. He, the effortlessly social butterfly, had a better relationship with both men when compared to the mostly reclusive Prince Jarryn.
The prince was scowling at this pronouncement. “And what, exactly, is this diplomatic excursion the four of us are embarking on?”
“This land cries out for solace, and within its heart beats the rhythm of compassion and understanding.”
Leander glanced at Jarryn, who looked just as confused as he did. Caisa wasn’t traditionally known for waxing lyrical of an evening, and that was certainly not the response he had expected.
The king smiled. “Go and ask Lucien. He was tasked with this mandate a few hours ago and is deep in his preparations. You will both be of use to him or face my… displeasure.” Caisa turned back to his throne and approached it once more.
“Now get out. Your hostility towards each other is giving me a headache.”
The journey would take a day, they were told, and they had been riding for the best part of one. As someone who had never spent more than an hour on horseback at a time, Leander was sure he was going to be blistered beyond all recognition by the time they arrived at the village.
“You’ve told us where we’re going but not why we’re going there,” Leander broke the silence that had stretched for the past hour or so as everyone seemed to get more and more tense.
They were a large group, relative to the understanding Leander had had that it was going to just be him, Jarryn, Lucien, and Verin travelling to this village.
With them were a good number of soldiers, well-armed and glaring around at their surroundings, as if every tree harboured an enemy behind it.
The soldiers, numbering approximately thirty, were on edge. It was causing Leander’s discomfort to grow, and that had nothing to do with the painful saddle he was currently sitting on.
“There was a wyvern attack in a village called Green Tryst. It’s remote, near the mountains.
Wyverns occasionally leave the mountains but they rarely interact with human settlements and we don’t know why this one did.
We only know it razed half of the village to the ground and decimated a quarter of the small population.
” Lucien explained softly to Leander and Jarryn as Verin rode alongside, his steely gaze also surveying their surroundings.
That wasn’t what Leander had been expecting. Wyverns were dangerous but not aggressive creatures, not when they didn’t feel threatened. Something must have set it off.
“Oh.”
“Oh, indeed.”
“So, what are we supposed to be doing in this village? I’m not cut out to be building houses.”
Lucien laughed. “No, I don’t suppose any of us are. Green Tryst has no domestic Aesthesics so we have been called in to offer our support.”
Jarryn nodded his understanding. “Wyvern attacks are, fortunately, very rare. But attacks do happen in Desanne as well. The devastation…” He shook his head. “It’s nothing short of utterly traumatising to those who survive.”
Leander glanced between the two men. “So we... what? Rid them of their traumatic feelings in response to the event?”
“Don’t be so obtuse, Leander,” Jarryn growled, and Leander was reminded of the fact that they were supposed to be forging a positive bond—that was the real mandated mission from the king.
“Removing emotions of that magnitude from a person leaves them with a memory they have no hope of processing. Trauma cannot be ignored or swept under a rug. You must face it in your own time, but face it, you must. ”
“Exactly.” Ever the diplomat, Lucien had been working hard all day to keep Leander and Jarryn from letting their verbal sparring go too far. “More importantly, perhaps, many of the survivors are children. They need very particular care and attention.”
“Very well. I like children. Glad to be of assistance.” Leander smiled.
“You don’t strike me as the type.” Jarryn said.
“Why not? They’re innocent and pure. And their lies are adorable. No one believes them but they pretend to all the same. It’s great.”
“The God of Lies, ladies and gents,” Jarryn’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Defiling the minds and souls of our innocent children.”
That got Leander’s hackles raised. “I don’t fucking invent the lies and force them into a child’s mind. They do that themselves.”
“Sure.”
Leander pulled his horse around to halt in front of Jarryn’s horse, forcing him to stop, which ground everyone else to a halt.
“And what of Serai? Do you blame the Goddess of Death for the loss of your loved ones? For the loss of your father? She is not responsible. Just like I am not to blame for the average mortal telling an untruth in their mundane lives.”
That shut Jarryn up. The pair stared at each other, yet another competition of wills.
“I’d like to get to Green Tryst before midnight, gentlemen. Let’s move.” Lucien positioned his own horse between the pair of them.
It was a command; they both knew it. Sighing, Leander pulled on the reins of his horse to turn her back around and start moving forward again. This time, however, Lucien and Verin had strategically, if very unsubtly, manoeuvred their horses between Leander and Jarryn.
As the horses continued to meander along the path towards Green Tryst, Lucien apparently was keen to mend the rift between his two companions after their exhaustingly constant altercations.
He chatted quietly with Verin for a time, not really making much effort to involve the two who were at each other’s throats.
Eventually, he addressed the pair. “Alright, you two,” Lucien said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement amidst the swaying trees in the gentle breeze.
“If we’re going to make it through this little trip without one of you chucking the other into the nearest river to drown, we might need to work on our camaraderie. ”
Leander shot a pointed look at Jarryn, his expression full of exasperation and very little shared amusement at Lucien’s words. “I’m not promising anything. Prince Jarryn has the temper of a thunderstorm. Anything sets him off.”
Rolling his eyes, Jarryn’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he retorted, “Hey, at least we’re interesting and entertaining company, right?”
Lucien chuckled as he kept his horse on the path, guiding the others towards the village, which was now in sight. “Entertaining might be an understatement. I’ve seen tavern brawls with less drama.”
Deadpan, Leander replied, “What can I say? We aim to please.”
“Aim to aggravate is more like it,” Jarryn cut in irritably.
“Aggravate. Entertain. Same difference,” Lucien quipped quickly, a smile playing on his lips. “Let’s just try to keep the drama to a minimum until we leave Green Tryst, shall we? The villagers have enough to worry about without a demigod and a prince having a rumble in their town square.”
“If Jarryn can let go of his ego, sure... though there’s not much substance to that.”
“At least I don’t carry around the literal weight of a full god complex wherever I go.”
Lucien raised an eyebrow. “I might start taking bets on who throws the last insult. Verin, are you interested in partaking?”
Verin, who had not smiled once, shook his head before returning his beady eyes to visually scouting the area.
Amusement finally softened Leander’s features—just a little. “I’ve got my money on Jarryn. He’s got the temper of a startled griffin and always seems to need to have the last word.”
“And you’ve got the patience of a hoardless dragon. Let’s see who snaps first.”
“See what I mean?”
Lucien shook his head, his laughter echoing through the trees in the forest. “Gentlemen, please. Let’s save the theatrics for now. We’re almost there. Game faces on, everyone.”