Chapter Seven
Varex
Several days later
After just over a week in Fila, Var was paradoxically more relaxed and more stressed.
He expected to hear from Captain Darmila any day now, and what she had to say could change everything.
But there had been no hint of anything amiss here, and as the days passed with no indication that they were in further danger, Var grew more hopeful that his impetuous flight had accomplished its goal and protected his family.
But he was no further ahead in figuring out either the reason for the attack nor the culprits behind it.
Were they working simply to destabilize the realms?
The attack on Cala while blaming Tor suggested Var’s family was being targeted specifically.
Did someone think they could take the Fealty that way?
It had happened several times in the war, when whole ruling families were wiped out and the Fealty had Manifested elsewhere.
But no one could predict where the Fealty would go.
Taking the risk of wiping out Var and his entire family when they weren’t at war seemed incredibly foolish.
Would the other royal families stand for it?
Unless it was one or more of those royal families that were doing this.
Was he right to be concerned about Vayrin and Bessar and their alliance by marriage?
He frowned as he thought about it. Hadn’t it been Yomil who had first raised that concern?
Var had never doubted the intelligence or advice he’d received from the man—until now.
Perhaps most of what he’d been saying was accurate, or maybe he’d been spinning a web of lies, and Var was even now in the middle of it.
It was so hard to know. Vayrin and Bessar could be consolidating power, but then, the same accusation could be made of Alossa and Filon, or Alossa and Lotar.
Perhaps someone was concerned by the multiple marriages that Alossa had with other realms, and trying to marry Tor off was the exact wrong thing to have done.
(But then, Var already knew that. If he’d just left Tor alone, this all might have ended very differently.)
But that was taking the very thing that was supposed to strengthen the alliances between the realms and turning it into a weapon. Why assume that any of the rulers had nefarious plans when Var himself had simply been trying to fulfill his mother’s legacy and unite the realms as firmly as possible?
Any of them could be scheming against him, but as he tried to disentangle whispers that Yomil had uttered, he was increasingly certain there was no real evidence of that. Where did that leave him? An unknown number of people within the United Realms were conspiring?
He’d have to hope that Captain Darmila was having more luck in Nexa.
If she’d captured Yomil, they would force him to give them the answers they sought.
Var knew there wasn’t much he could do from here, and the thought sat heavy on his shoulders even amidst the certainty that he’d done the right thing to protect his family.
Once Ada was here, once Var had heard from Darmila, he would figure out what to do next. He’d keep his family safe, and he’d get to the bottom of any threat against the United Realms. Var had inherited the realms in peace, and he intended to keep it that way.
Nostex had finally convinced Var to come and look at his “collection” with him, though he’d let Ferna bow out to stay with the napping baby.
Before all this had happened, Pamuna would take care of Cala for most of the day.
Like his wife, Var could no longer imagine their precious daughter out of his sight.
When they resumed their duties in Alossa, this was going to get awkward, but they’d simply have to figure out a new way to manage.
Surely an infant would enliven court events?
Here in Filon, there was nothing Var needed to do.
Nostex ran his realm ably, and Var didn’t want to appear like he was trying to exercise his powers as High King and overrule the man.
He might not choose to rule Filon the same way his father-in-law did, but the whole point of the peace accords was that the individual rulers retained most of their autonomy.
Var received their Fealty—and a portion of their taxes—for certain realms-wide initiatives and protections.
He’d always treated that as an opportunity for them to strengthen the peace and work together, even if that meant taking exhausting tours of relics that bored him.
Var would never admit how much he agreed with his brother on the absolute tedium of viewing innumerable relics from the war and the years before.
(Tor would never have to see the collection again.
The thought brought a lump to Var’s throat and caught him awkwardly between laughter and tears.) His father-in-law liked to talk about them in great detail, and Var eventually grew tired of trying to feign interest.
But the last thing he wanted to do was offend someone who was both Ferna’s father and another ruler in the United Realms, especially when the man was kind enough to shelter and protect them.
So he allowed himself to be escorted around, paying cursory attention as his mind spun in circles around his own problems as well as wondering just what had been here before Nostex had started collecting all these artifacts.
He’d filled multiple rooms on at least two of the lower levels of the castle with swords, shields, other weapons, and pieces of armor.
There were standards, the occasional well-preserved tunic or horse blanket, and a truly bewildering array of broken items from everyday life, where farms, villages, and towns had been overrun.
Var didn’t want to ever forget what they’d gone through and why this peace was so important, but he doubted this was the best way to remember what mattered.
They needed to honor the past but also look to the future to ensure that everyone remained happy.
The peace accords hadn’t brought perfection, but he’d thought everyone was reasonably content.
They’d even been able to give the exiles a place to live outside of the structure that maintained the United Realms. That had clearly gone wrong, or Tor wouldn’t have had to save thousands of them up a mountain in the middle of the night. But what was the true story?
King Forex’s letter about Tor’s interference had screamed outrage from every word. Var had never taken it at face value, but with Yomil assuring him that the situation was grave, he’d assumed at least some of it was true.
What if none of it was? What if Forex was responsible for all of this? He’d never been happy about the size of Tond following the peace accords. He was the most likely to complain about the loss of the “good old days,” not wanting to admit all the good that had come of this peace.
Had he written that letter not because he was outraged and had lost his temper, but as a very calculated attempt to ensure that Var blamed Tor for what was going on?
Should Var confront him and try to get to the bottom of this?
He was only a few days away, rather than separated by the entirety of the United Realms. He could only imagine what Captain Darmila would say given that Var had two guards here (or would once Harili got back with Ada).
As anxious as Var was to figure out what was going on, even he could recognize that going into a ruler’s territory with all of two guards and accusing him of treason wasn’t the best plan.
But he really wanted to know what was going on.
Var blinked back to the present as he became aware that Nostex wasn’t speaking anymore. Had he missed a question? But no, a guard was leaning in to say something quietly to him. Var’s gut clenched.
Nostex was nodding, smiling brightly, and Var felt himself relax a little. Not bad news, then. Would he ever stop fearing what came next?
Dismissing the guard, Nostex turned back to Var. “I was waiting for an important delivery, and now it’s arrived!”
“Wonderful,” Var murmured, hoping it wasn’t more for this collection. Surely, there was a limit to how much needed to be preserved.
Nostex’s eyes twinkled. “I’ve got just a few more things to show you, and then perhaps we can see if Cala is awake and have some refreshments.”
“That sounds perfect,” Var said, hoping he didn’t sound too fervent.
Nostex began to chatter again, and Var tried to pay attention, really he did.
They went down another set of stairs and passed into a narrow corridor, plainer than some of the other areas where they’d been.
Var assumed this meant Nostex had needed to expand again.
Seriously, how could anyone need this much stuff?
Had Nostex meant he was going to show Var a few more rooms?
He suppressed a sigh. Ferna always looked so hopeful when she asked him if he’d had a good time with her father. Var would therefore always lie about it, and that meant he had to work to ensure it didn’t seem like a lie.
(If only he’d realized how large Nostex’s collection was years ago, perhaps he could have taken Ferna’s stance and declared a distaste for all the weaponry that would have let him get out of all these tours.
Var would never confess to anyone that he occasionally feigned being extra busy in order to put off a trip to Filon.)
They went down one more flight of stairs, these ones twisting tightly, and Var wondered if one day, the entire castle would be filled completely with historical mementos.
He pitied the staff who needed to keep the vast array of items clean.
It wasn’t very well lit down here, and at some point Nostex had acquired a torch.
(Apparently, Var really hadn’t been paying very much attention.)
They went down another narrow, ill-lit corridor, and arrived at a closed door, thick wood banded with iron.