Exile (8 page)

CHAPTER SIX

Yiloch gazed out the created crystal windows from where he lounged in the sitting room of his bedchambers. He had often found his father sitting in this very spot, gazing in contemplation out toward the sea as he was now. They were not so different in some ways, but the ways in which they were different had been irreconcilable. If his father hadn’t been so callous over his mother’s death or so willing to use Yiloch’s sorrow to manipulate him perhaps things would be much different now. Perhaps Rylan would still rule Lyra with Yiloch at his side. Perhaps Yiloch’s brother and others close to him would still be alive. Perhaps Myac would never have entered the picture. Neither would Indigo.

He frowned at the waves in the distance.

He and his father were different though. Rylan’s manipulations fueled a heated falling out that led to Yiloch’s exile from the capital. After that, his father turned more and more to the kinds of behaviors that led to their parting of ways, using the slave trade to control nobles as well as criminals and eventually putting Yiloch’s younger brother to death for being too gentle. Revolution became inevitable at some point. Leading it himself allowed Yiloch to mitigate some of the damage, though there was still much rebuilding to do and many loose threads to tie up.

Now that he thought back on the day he’d taken the throne, it wasn’t the climactic moment when his blade cut clean through his father’s neck that he remembered. It was the moment of horror when he thought Indigo might die because of his thirst for revenge, his need to savor the experience. How like the woman to overwhelm even that long awaited satisfaction with the power of her presence.

He smiled at the thought, unable to maintain any semblance of irritation toward her. The only other memory that stuck with him that strongly was that of his mother’s death. Love was truly a waste of effort, was it not? It left you vulnerable to so much pain and there was no way to get rid of it once it had infected your very being.

Indigo
.

He exhaled, clenching his fist around the ring that usually hung at his neck. The ring he’d taken from her as a keepsake of their first encounter that she’d later told him to keep so it might be with him when she could not be.

Myac was dangerous. He would pay for what he’d done to Indigo when they found him, but he wouldn’t suffer. There wouldn’t be a drawn out moment of vengeance. Yiloch had almost lost Indigo to such selfish folly. He’d learned his lesson.

The door to his chamber opened. He reached out with ascard, touching on Adran’s presence as expected, and made no move to acknowledge him. Adran entered in respectful silence and sat in another chair, the very chair Yiloch himself used to sit in to wait on his father’s acknowledgement. His longtime friend didn’t stare at him with the expectancy of a child trying to please his father, but rather set up his booted feet on a table and turned his gaze to the windows, watching moonlit waves dancing in the distance. Perhaps he sought answers there in those shimmering waters just as Yiloch did.

“You tell me to let Eris go,” Adran chided, his gentle tone taking the some of the sting from his words, “can’t you do the same for Indigo. She, at least, still lives and has her own life to lead. Isn’t it time you left her to it.”

Remorse twisted in his chest at the mention of Adran’s sister who had died for him in their fight to take the empire. She’d been an integral part of Yiloch’s life as much as Adran always had. They had all grown up together in the capital and the two had gone into exile with him to help him raise and lead an army against his father. It was hard to imagine Eris’ vigorous spirit snuffed so easily and the absence of her unfailing enthusiasm left a deep chasm in both of their lives. Still, while he sympathized with Adran, Eris and Indigo were not comparable in this case.

“Indigo
is
still alive,” he replied, keeping his tone equally gentle, but unyielding. “She is merely out of my reach for now.”

“Unless you intend to make her come back here, she may as well be as lost as Eris is,” Adran replied, his voice catching this time when he spoke his sister’s name.

Yiloch clasped the chain back around his neck and slipped the ring under his shirt, suppressing a quick surge of resentment. It was unfair to get angry with his friend when he only spoke the truth. Indigo had made her choice. Lyran custom wouldn’t allow him to take her as his bride and he couldn’t blame her for not wanting less.

“You may be right,” he acknowledged once the ring settled against his skin again.

“But you’ll go on ignoring me anyway.” Adran’s wry grin showed that he expected no less.

Yiloch said nothing.

“King Jerrin has extended his welcome to our chosen adepts, with the stipulation that they not use ascard outside of the Healer’s Academy. They must also avoid speaking of it with anyone other than Lord Serivar or those approved by the headmaster while they are training in Caithin. The headmaster also requested that, in trade for their training as healers, they share knowledge of some of their non-healing skills with a few select students in confidence while they are there.”

Yiloch nodded. “The arrangement is fair given Caithin’s laws protecting their delicate citizenry from the dangers of ascard use. Have Ferin select his adepts and get them on their way. Make sure he picks them according to their existing skills as well as their willingness and aptitude to learn healing. We should be somewhat selective about what we teach Caithin’s adepts.”

“Already done,” Adran replied, smiling at his look of appreciation. “They head out for Demin in two days. Ferin will be going with them for a short time to make sure the initial process goes smoothly. He’s assigned Ian to oversee your ascard users while he is away.”

“I take it he’s sending Adept Galyn?”

A hint of envy for the other man’s successful relationship strained Adran’s smile. “Yes. The two of them are practically inseparable.”

Yiloch had to push aside his own jealously of Ferin, who would be spending time at the Caithin Healers Academy where he might run across Indigo. Would he get to see her? Speak with her even?

“I hope you warned Ferin to be cautious. Caithin isn’t known for its tolerance of foreign adepts. They’ll need to be discreet, even with those specifically assigned to work with them.” Adran nodded and he took quick note of the melancholy in his friend’s eyes. He continued. “Ian has come along well, but that timid streak still creeps up to the surface now and then. I think a taste of leadership will do him good.”

Adran smiled and shook his head. “I never thought you simply giving him the opportunity to use his abilities would do such amazing things for his confidence. He’s doing remarkably well.”

Yiloch chuckled. “There was a time not very long ago that you were ready to tear me apart for getting him involved in my war.”

“Our war, my lord,” Adran corrected. “Even I can be wrong on occasion. There is a reason you’re the one in charge.”

“Royal blood,” Yiloch replied, dismissive.

Adran gave him a long affectionate look. “There is far more to it than that.”

Yiloch held his silence and Adran joined him in gazing out the crystal windows again. The waves rolled in with a steady, soothing rhythm. The motion was peaceful tonight. It helped to wash away the stress of his day. He spent most of his days dealing with the complex politics of the recent upheaval in the empire as well as the tedious daily tasks that were an inevitable part of ruling. The ocean was the only thing that soothed him. He wondered at times if the knowledge that Indigo was out there on the other side of the Gilded Straight played a part in that.

Earlier today, he had gotten word that Kudaness raiding parties were attacking farms and settlements near the southern Lyran border. A part of him suspected it was a form of retaliation from Suac Chozai for his refusal to offer aid. He dispatched a small force to go protect the settlements with orders to avoid instigating further conflict and sent the part Kudaness warrior, Cadmar, with them to conduct a discreet investigation of the situation. Cadmar had the knowledge of Kudan culture and territory necessary to discover the root of the problem without provoking the Kudaness. He was even welcome among many of the tribes.

The first order of business would be to determine what tribe or tribes were involved. If it was the Murak, then Yiloch would be confident of his suspicions and his retribution would be more severe. Otherwise, he would seek a more peaceful resolution with the offending tribe before resorting to any aggressive action. For now, he trusted Cadmar to assess the situation and would wait on that assessment.

As the silence drew on, he glanced at Adran, noting the slightest tension in his posture that only a lifetime of friendship made apparent.

“You had something else you wished to talk about? Myac perhaps,” he ventured, hopeful.

“No. I’m afraid that search hasn’t born any fruit yet.” Adran met his eyes. “You need an heir. Soon,” he added with emphasis.

“I don’t think the royal penis is going to shrivel up and fall off
on the morrow.” Flippancy wasn’t going to get him anywhere, but he hated the subject.

“All your reasons for not doing so are naught but excuses preserving Indigo in your heart.”

Yiloch scowled.

“She can keep your heart, my friend, but you need to give your seed to someone else.”

Only Adran would be so bold, and Yiloch couldn’t bring himself to go on arguing, despite the ridiculous resentment that rose up at the thought of marrying someone other than the beautiful Caithin adept. He couldn’t marry her. Lyran tradition held that only the purest of Lyran blood could sit the throne. His empress couldn’t be any Caithin woman, regardless of her rank or his feelings for her. Adran was correct in his assessment. An empress and a child would give the people promise for the future. That would help bring calm and a sense of stability to the empire.

“Lord Vyram has a lovely daughter of proper age, if I recall,” Yiloch commented. If he remembered correctly, she was also a social creature who would require little attention so long as she had pretty clothes and plenty of courtiers to amuse her. “Selecting her would also offer him recognition appropriate to his efforts in helping me take the throne.”

“Yes. Lady Auryl. Lord Vyram is highly respected among the nobility and his lineage is flawless. She would be a good choice,” Adran agreed, though Yiloch heard a touch of uncertainty in his voice and raised an eyebrow in question. “To be honest, I’m not sure she has the spirit you seem to prefer in a mate.”

Yiloch gave him a sour look. “I don’t see how that matters.”

“Don’t you want more than a pretty face?”

“I have had more than a pretty face, my friend,” Yiloch returned. “Now all I need is a visible empress who is pure of blood. And fertile.”

Adran nodded, though he looked as if he’d bitten into something sour. “I will see what can be arranged then. Will you use one of your mother’s rings, or shall I have a new one commissioned?”

“A new one.” There was no reason to bestow one of his mother’s treasures on Lady Auryl now. Perhaps, one day, she would prove worthy of such a gift. “I would appreciate it if you would present the proposal yourself, Adran. Lord Vyram will be insulted by anyone of lesser import when his darling daughter is in the negotiation. No sense offending his sense of self-worth.”

“Certainly, I’ll head out tomorrow for Vyram’s estate after I’ve arranged the rings.”

Yiloch nodded and touched the small lump of Indigo’s ring through his shirt while he gazed out at the moon. The soft glowing orb reminded him of a pearl in one of his mother’s favorite rings. When he was young, she told him how his father had commissioned a dozen adepts to take a piece of the moon to fashion the stone in the ring. It was a ridiculous story, but he loved to hear her tell it, smiling while her hand rested on his arm as he lay in bed at night, the ring turned so that the pearl would catch the glow of the moonlight through his windows. The memory gave him an idea, one that had nothing at all to do with Lady Auryl.

“Adran, could you send for Ferin and Ian?”

“At this hour?” Yiloch gave him a stern look and he shrugged, his lean frame lifting with the gesture. “As you wish.” He let his boots drop to the floor and stood.

While Adran leaned out the door to send a servant for Ian and Ferin, Yiloch walked over to the vanity where most of his mother’s jewelry was still kept. A quick search found what he was looking for. The ring had a delicate gold band, at the top of which a perfect pearl was set with fine strands of gold wound around the perimeter and tapering up to hold it in place. To either side were two brilliant diamonds, one set just below and the other set just above the main band, also wound with delicate tendrils of gold.

Adran came to stand next to him and eyed the ring.

“That doesn’t look like a wedding ring,” he commented.

“It isn’t intended to be,” Yiloch replied, eyeing the delicate piece with satisfaction.

Adran sighed. “What purpose will it serve?” His weary tone expressed a world of sympathy.

“It shall bear my gratitude for her efforts in our war and act as a token.” He did not say as a token of what. Such explanation was unnecessary. “Humor me, Adran. It is all I can give her.”

Adran inclined his head in solemn acceptance. “I always do.”

•

Ian and Ferin arrived in short time. Ferin wore silken trousers and a long night robe, his mussed hair attesting to the fact that he had already settled in for the night. Ian, dressed in rough brown pants and a shirt that would be more appropriate for working stables than attending one’s emperor, was bright eyed and eager. What he lacked in proper attire, he made up for with boundless enthusiasm and Yiloch, hungry to share his idea, appreciated that fervor.

He held the ring out in his palm. “I would like to have this ring enhanced with protections. What chance is there that you could have something done by morning for Ferin to take with him to Caithin?”

Ian and Ferin both stared at him, looking mystified for several seconds, then Ian’s eyes lit up.