Shadow of the Father (6 page)

“This,” Maxon said, raising the lid to its fullest extent, “is the crown of Dewanne.”

On a bed of black silk, a gleaming wrought gold headpiece shone in the dim parlor. Yilon leaned forward for a better look. The base of the crown formed a “U” of solid gold, the top prongs of which curved down and around to fit around the base of a fox’s ears. Atop this base sat a smaller copper circlet that supported three golden peaks at the front, the middle one higher than the ends. Thin copper wire inside each of the peaks traced different patterns.

“The peaks represent the mountains that are our home,” Maxon said, indicating them with a finger without touching them. “This is the crest of the House of Dewanne.” Yilon had already recognized the pattern in the center peak from Maxon’s jerkin, the circular emblem with the star of Canis. “On this peak, symbolizing our past, is the ancient star of Fox-Canis. And on this side,” his finger moved from the left peak to the right, “symbolizing our future, is the current crest of the King of Divalia. It is re-worked every time the Circle moves along.”

“Tail and Teeth,” Yilon breathed. He reached out for it, but Maxon intercepted his paw.

“Ahem. Begging his lordship’s pardon, but the heir should not touch the crown until the Confirmation ceremony. It is tradition.” He turned his muzzle away from Yilon and the crown to cough.

Yilon drew his paw back. “Sorry,” he said.

“It is only worn on ceremonial occasions,” Maxon said, closing the box.

Yilon’s father met his eye. “Why did you need to bring it on his errand, Maxon? Wouldn’t it have been safer remaining in Dewanne?” Yilon had the feeling that his father knew the answer and was only asking the question for his benefit.

Maxon replaced the crown in its bag as carefully as he’d removed it. “The crown has great importance to the people. It is unlikely that a confirmed heir would be accepted should he attempt to undergo the ceremony without wearing it.”

Yilon frowned. “You mean if I don’t have the crown, I can’t become lord of Dewanne?”

“Nothing is impossible,” Maxon said. “However, as I said, it would be much more difficult. Needlessly so, may I add, because the crown is in my care and will remain so until the confirmation ceremony, after which it will be locked in the palace treasury in its normal place.”

“Wouldn’t it have been safer just to leave it there?” Yilon eyed the plain leather bag. It seemed so vulnerable.

“The treasury is normally quite secure,” Maxon said. “However, in this case, when the next lord has not yet been confirmed, the location of the crown is of paramount importance.”

“You mean that someone else could take over the lordship,” Yilon said. Maxon inclined his head. “Has that ever happened?”

“Twice in our remembered history, the crown was stolen and a confirmation ceremony performed for a lord who was not the official heir. In one case, the lordship was taken by the heir’s brother with the help of the local Cantor. In the second case, the old Lord had died suddenly and without issue, so there was no official heir. There was a certain amount of unpleasantness over the succession for a number of years.”

Unpleasantness. Yilon’s fur prickled. He’d read about wars of succession in his history lessons: protracted, bloody affairs with high passions driving both sides to ridiculous lengths. He would certainly never raise an army to wrest the title of Lord Vinton from his brother.

“It is a blessing,” Maxon proceeded after a clearing of his throat, “that lord Dewanne named his heir before passing. Though of course,” he said, lowering his voice and leaning in with a glance at the doorway through which Vinnix had disappeared, “there was little doubt who would be chosen.”

“I was wondering about that,” Yilon said. “Why—”

Volle coughed suddenly. “Excused me,” he said. He pushed back his chair and stood. Maxon immediately followed suit. “I was just thinking I should go check on your carriage for tomorrow,” Volle said, tail swaying.

“Oh, my lord, I should do that.” Maxon volunteered immediately. Yilon’s father nodded. “Very well. Thank you, Maxon.”

“I’ll return in a moment.” The thin fox bowed to both of them.

He started to pick up the crown, then reconsidered and left it sitting on the floor.

Yilon, who’d remained in his chair, watched his father sit back down. “You never meant to go,” he said. “You just wanted to get rid of him.”

His father looked pleased. “Always remember that people will behave according to their station,” he said. “If I’d simply asked him to leave, he would have wondered what I wanted to say to you without him present.”

“So what do you want to say to me?” Yilon leaned back in his chair, slumping. His father looked at the door the same way Maxon had when checking that Vinnix had gone. “You’ve never asked why you were named the heir to Dewanne.”

Yilon shrugged. “He didn’t have any cubs. You have a spare one.”

“You’re not a ‘spare,’ and don’t let me hear you say that again,” Volle snapped. “Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Yilon sagged further down in his chair.

His father stared at him until Yilon squirmed, looking around the parlor, at the shadows outside the window, at the plain leather satchel, anywhere but his father’s green eyes, dark in the parlor. “All right,” Volle said finally. “I’m going to tell you why you’re the heir to Dewanne. I expect you to keep this in the closest possible confidence.”

Yilon perked his ears despite the sullen resentment he was trying to foster. “Yes, sir.”

“The reason is that Lord Dewanne and Lady Dewanne thought that you were Lord Dewanne’s son.”

At that Yilon bolted upright in his chair. “You mean, that Mother just took me in, raised me—”

His father held out a paw. “Let me finish. They thought—Lady Dewanne still thinks—that Lord Dewanne sired you by your mother. That is not the case. You are my son. But Dewanne needed an heir, and publicly he has said that he would prefer the land remain held by a fox of noble birth. Since he and his wife had no cubs of their own, and he and I were good friends, that left you.” He checked the door again, but no sound or scent came from beyond it. “There was no reason to tell you before now. I’d intended to tell you later tonight, but I hadn’t realized that Lord Dewanne had told Maxon about your supposed heritage.” His ears flicked, matching the annoyance that briefly clouded his muzzle.

“Wait,” Yilon said, his head whirling. “So he thought… but that means that he must have… he and mother? While she was married to you?” His father nodded. “She wouldn’t, though. Not with another fox.” He gulped, ears flattening in guilt as the words spilled out. His mother’s affairs had always been discreet, and with a careless sentence, he’d just told his father about them. He curled his tail under his chair, wishing he could snatch the words back.

His father nodded as if he’d always known, though his ears drooped. “Your mother and I have long had an understanding. I have no illusions that she keeps herself faithful to me.”

“She hasn’t made a commitment to anyone else.” Yilon folded his arms.

“That would be her right,” Volle said. “But regardless, it was her honor that led her to confess to me what Dewanne had planned. She arranged to trick him so that he would believe he’d sired a cub with her, a cub he intended me to believe was mine, but who would bear his blood.”

“Why?” Yilon said. “Why wouldn’t she just say no?”

Volle smiled. “She wanted the best for her cubs. She wants to be the mother to Lords, and she saw a chance to do well for another of her sons.”

That sounded like his mother, more than the vixen who would cheat on her husband and then double-cross the cheater. Slowly, he relaxed. “So I’m not his son?”

His father’s smile grew wider. He shook his head. “Your nose should tell you that.”

He hadn’t put much thought into it, but looking back on his arrival at the palace and the ease with which he’d fallen into a familial relationship with his father and brother, he knew that scent was port of that. He took one deep breath through his nose and felt the familiarity of his father’s scent that went beyond simple species recognition. Of course, he thought, he’d never met Lord Dewanne. So it was possible he’d have felt the same with him, wasn’t it?

“So I wanted you to be prepared for that,” his father was saying. “Because Lady Dewanne for certain, and perhaps some other influential people at the court, will tell you you’re his son. Play along. Nobody need know the truth but for us and your mother.”

“Does Volyan know?” He couldn’t say why he asked, but it was one of the first things that came to mind.

“If it’s important to you, we can tell him,” his father said. “I doubt he’ll ever hear otherwise, though.”

Yilon shrugged. “I was just wondering.” He tilted his head. “Why didn’t Lord Dewanne have cubs of his own?”

His father folded his ears down. “That would be his family’s business. I would suggest you not bring it up with Lady Dewanne. There’s no remedying it now, no matter what the reason.”

Yilon determined that he would ask her at the first opportunity. He pushed back his chair. “Fine. Thanks for telling me.”

“There’s one more thing.” His father looked away from him, ears folding back.

Yilon felt a tremor in his chest. He sat down. “What?”

“Well…” His father lowered his muzzle. “As a Lord, you know, you will have certain duties. Now, I’ve never had the chance to talk to you about… how a fox and a vixen…”

“You don’t have to,” Yilon said quickly. “I, uh, Volyan explained it all.”

His father didn’t look much comforted by that. “Good, good. I suppose he probably already knew when I had that talk with him, too. He’s certainly wasted little time broadening his experience. But I’ve noticed that you don’t seem to have the same… enthusiasm that he does.”

The conversation was taking a steep turn that made Yilon feel like he was looking off the edge of a roof. He scuffed his paws along the floor and wished he could run away, wished for Volyan or Maxon to come back into the room and put an end to this.

“I’ve been through some of the same things you have. I wanted to tell you that even if you do prefer males, there’s no reason you can’t be a proper, beloved lord. I hope you’ve seen the life that I have with Streak as an example…”

Yilon snorted. His father paused, then went on. “If you want to stay close to Sinch—”

“Leave him out of it,” Yilon said.

Volle paused. “I’m just saying, you and he could have a good life together.”

“He’s just a friend of mine.” Yilon felt himself growling. “We’re not going to have a
life
together, or anything like that.”

“Okay,” his father said slowly. “You don’t seem interested in anyone else. There was Haley…”

“She was as bad as the empty-headed idiots Volyan likes.”

Now his father frowned, his tone becoming more stern. “There’s no need to be rude to your brother’s companions.”

“He says the same thing about them, or haven’t you listened?” Yilon sat up in his chair. “Or don’t you care because he’s so perfect?”

“Yilon,” his father said warningly. His brow lowered, his muzzle almost snarling.

“No, really! He never does anything wrong! He gets to be lord of Vinton. He’s in love with girls just like a lord is supposed to be. Maybe I like them too. Maybe I just don’t like any of the ones in this place.”

“That doesn’t excuse rudeness.”

Yilon barely heard him. “Just because there’s only one person who I really like spending time with, one worthwhile person in this whole stupid city, you
assume
I’m like you.”

His father’s eyes darkened further. “You don’t have to be like me.”

“I don’t want to be like you!” Yilon stood in his chair. “I don’t want to be lord of Dewanne and I don’t want to live in this stupid palace in this stupid city! The only good thing about this whole stupid ordeal is that it gets me out of here.”

“Sit down,” Volle said quietly.

Yilon’s tail curled down. He remained standing. “I’m a lord now.”

“Not yet,” Volle said. “And I’m still your father.”

“So you think,” Yilon said.

“I know. I trust your mother.”

“You don’t even know her!” He was almost shouting.

His father glared at him. “I know her well enough.”

“Sure.” Yilon scowled at the table.

“You think you’re the only one who’s ever gone through something like this?”

“I’m the only one who seems to care.”

His father took a breath. “I’ve tried for two years to be a good father, to get through to you. I thought we’d reached an understanding these last few months.”

Anger and guilt swirled within him. He felt the decision to retort come and go without being conscious of having made it. “Maybe I just stopped caring enough to fight.”

“That would make me sad,” his father said. He lifted his head. Although Yilon was still staring down at the dark wood of the table, he knew his father was looking right at him. “One thing I never thought of you is that you didn’t care.”

“You don’t even know me! You have no idea what I care about.” He returned his father’s look, daring him to disagree.

A wry smile twisted his father’s muzzle. “You’re not as mysterious as you think. I know you care about Vinton, and miss it. I know you care about your mother. I know you care about Sinch.”

“I told you, leave him out of it.”

“I just don’t want you to cast him aside because you think he doesn’t fit into the life of a lord.”

“Lords have friends, don’t they?” Yilon said.

“Of course they do, but—”

He heard a cough outside and smelled the Dewanne steward. He leaned down. “Don’t assume everyone’s like you. I don’t want to be anything like you. I’ll have a wife because I have to, and I’ll be true to her.”

His father’s eyes clouded. Yilon steeled himself against the stab of guilt, straightening as Maxon entered the room. The steward started to talk, then looked from one to the other of them and broke off. “Should I come back?”

Yilon folded his arms and waited for his father to speak. “No,” Volle said. “You have to leave early. You should get your sleep.”

It was curious. He had gotten in the last word, but as he lay down on his bed for the last time, he didn’t have the feeling of having won. He turned over and stared at the ceiling in the dark room. The padding in the bed smelled musty, but not as bad as Sinch’s, and over that smell lay his own musk and Volyan’s. And in those two vulpine scents, he caught the relationship not just between the two of them, but also with their father.