LAVEN HEPHAESTUS ARVENALDI, II
People are gathered around the corpse of Lorsius as he is set ablaze.
“You are a King . . .” Amias says in a quiet gasp.
He watches the burn of Lorsius as he stands next to me.
“I do not care to see this,” Morano speaks as he stares down at the linen sack that holds Lorsius’s decapitated body now set to fire. “Summon me when you need.”
I cannot find a proper response to give him nor anyone.
I would think after the man who has done nothing but ruin my life leaves the earth for good, I would have a lot more to say than saying nothing at all.
Then it dawns on me, as High Prince I always knew where to begin when it came to my nation. But, with multiple servants gone, no workers, and our people in fright, I do not know where to begin to level out the growing chaos.
“What now?” I ask as my mother holds my arm.
“You become the High King that Vaigon needs and bring grace back to your grandfather’s name. Lorsius is gone and now there is you. You will rule as you see fit.”
Slowly she turns back to the burning corpse of Lorsius. I watch as her shoulders finally rest for the first time in years. We all have now found rest for the first time in years.
“I will direct the cremators where to go next.” Axynth says. “This is a pivotal night for us all, process it however you must. Everyone else will be.”
When I look into his eyes I see the blankness, the misunderstanding, and the loss of a Blood Bond brother, but I do not push for him to speak.
Even I cannot. Though, there is one person I must see to settle the thoughts raging in my mind that I cannot process alone.
I go back to the Servant Grounds in search of Ivella.
I have never heard it so quiet here. No one is left, every Quamfasian is gone and back in their home.
Roaner is coming toward me and nods for me to follow him. “We will handle what goes on here. Speak with him.”
When I look to Vallehes he is still striding toward the palace, and I enhance my speed to catch up to him.
“You will be helping me?”
He glances in my direction. “My qualm was with Lorsius, not you.”
“And?” I push for further clarification.
“And when my General’s daughter swears me to a promise, I follow through.” He comes to a stop and turns to me. We both stand head on. “There is a fine line I draw between my women and your men. You two will be nothing more than mere acquaintances and every visit between you two—from now and on—will be monitored. This, I give you no say in.”
“Now just wait a moment,” I hold back my retaliation as my mind spins from one too many things happening at once.
Lorsius has died just moments ago and now I am being told I must see Ivella under supervision as if I am some visceral threat.
I stop thinking too far and try to form a response before reacting.
“Do you not think that is intrusive? Monitored visits are overbearing to say the least.”
“No,” his head shakes. “I do not. With Ivella home we will do everything to watch over her and provide protection within her boundaries.”
“She is safe with me.”
“Not in my eyes. After the day she was taken, and how they took her, that made every man on Vaigon a threat, even you.”
“I am no threat to her, Vallehes, I do not need question that she told you about me.”
“She did, and my Queen and I will decide within time if I believe you are not a threat, then my Circle will dictate, and I will consult with my people.”
He begins to walk away again, instead of protesting his words once more, I follow along.
Our people intermingling with one another I can see as a problem, but it is unfair to those who mean well about one another. There could be slews of mates that are found between my people and theirs now that the border is removed, and they are denying a right that we are given at birth—to be with the person we are fated for in whichever way we wish.
I lead the way to my study and Vallehes shadows my guide.
“Firstly,” he begins as we step into my study. “Your people will demand my people back, especially your people who are lazy and most definitely those who used my men and women as sex slaves. Some will riot over the death of Lorsius because they will not want you to be King, but there will be those who do want you to reign and make change. You will not be able to satisfy everyone, and those who rebel against you will be fierce. I advise you put strong demands in place and make it known who rules this land. Your people will try to override you, weaken you, and try to turn this nation into what they want it to be.”
“Conservatives.” I speak.
Vallehes nods. “Precisely. Do not listen to people who are afraid of change, they hold nations back from prospering because their minds are so tightly shut off by fear and prejudice.”
“Amias and I will put orders into place.”
“You may put orders into place but what of the people who do not listen nor follow?”
I sit down in my chair as he sits across from me. “They will be given an ultimatum.”
“Life or imprisonment.” Vallehes questions.
“I have no want for prisoners, however, there is enough room for graves.”
“I figured you would say death.” Vallehes simpers.
“Why?”
“I am well aware of your infamous killing sprees from years ago . . . of your own men.”
“I had my reasons.” The only reason being the woman you are saying I must have supervised visits with.
Vallehes shrugs. “With the border being torn down, we continue to protect the line. No one shall pass without consent from myself, my wife or any higher up in my Circle. I am certain there are plenty of people on my land that wish for revenge, they want blood of any kind in return for those we lost to your uncle. So, I will watch over who enters your side as well.”
“And not every court was ambushed?” I ask for certainty.
“No, we went to the lands that still held our people captive.” He stands.
“I have already told you the most important things to do in the meantime. Control your people before they get reckless—anyone who dares to cross the line to abduct my people will be slain. They will receive no other option but death.”
I nod in agreement, and he continues.
“As for the rogues, sightings of them on our lands will grow when they appear again. We have yet to cross paths with any, but my son, Vorian, he has killed plenty of them while in Gordanta. He put training in place of how to fight them off once he arrived home. So, when they do come to our side, we are prepared. I will come back in the morning . . .” he pauses. “I do not know what your relationship was like with your uncle, but I will apologize for your loss if you cared for him.”
“No, Lorsius and I did not get along well. He has ruined me in plenty of ways,” ways I am still working on with our palace Healer I must see more often; given the chaos, I have not been to a mental session in more than two months. “Shock is mostly all that I feel.”
“Understandable. Sleep well after speaking with your Generals, you will necessitate it.”
Standing from my bureau, I try to say something more. Add on how I also necessitate Ivella.
“I need her,” I announce as he walks for the doors of the study. “And she needs me too. Not physically, but mentally and emotionally. You cannot deprive us of that.”
Vallehes looks at me over his shoulder. “You will earn your right to be alone with her.”
“And how is that?”
His dark eyes light up. “The Quamfasian Games.”
He attempts to leave again.
“We have children,” I blurt out.
Slowly he turns toward me. “That she did not tell me.”
“I did not think she would.”
“What are their names?”
“Vaigon and Vorzantu—twins.” Twins with wings, claws, and sharp teeth.
His jaw tightens. “How old are they?”
“One.”
One day old.
“Those children are your only exception to pass, nothing more or less.”
“You do know that you and I are not that different from one another.” There is a smile that appears on his face. “We both seek the same wants for our people. When my family were the Leaders of Gordanta all those years ago it was their vote you had to stay as High King. What do you think I did with the men that took Ivella?”
“I had a thought in my mind that you would reveal the answer to my wonders about your . . . massacres. I will believe that you protect Ivella when I see you defending her myself, not by the words of others.”
Just as I think he is done, he stops once more to speak.
So this is who Vorian gets his never-ending talking from.
“Prepare your seamstresses.” Vallehes warns. “You will need to be fitted to wear the Regalia of a High King—your Coronation is soon.”
* * *
Ezra delivers the ashes of Lorsius to the Throne Room as Levora, Amias, Hua, and I speak of what Vallehes told me to arrange. Roaner and Morano are still off keeping the people under control.
Ezra stands there longer than I intended. He wants to say something more, but instead, he only leaves.
We stare at the urn filled with his ashes. The ashes rest in an urn of the purest gold I have ever seen.
“I would like to be left alone.”
I do not know if any of them heard me until they begin to walk away.
“Laven?” Hua calls from the doors of the Throne Room.
“I am fine, Hua.”
Amias whispers to her before she is taken away with him.
As the doors close and I hear their footsteps fade farther and farther away, precipitously, all of the immersed rage I have hidden for years pushes forward.
I grab the urn from the pristine box it is sitting in and soar it to the floor.
The gold shatters into pieces and dents the floor at its collision.
As I stare at his ashes scattered across the floor, there is nothing else I can do but scream at them in the way I have wanted to all these years.
I need to belittle him as he belittled me. Blame him for the taking of Levora as he blamed me. Admit that I know the reason those guards were able to torture me so was because he allowed it. I let every tear fall onto his ashes, every tear he once told me to hold back to make me more of a man.
The unrelenting screaming does not ease. I let it continue until I feel my chest will give and my voice will die with him.
I can feel the bond trying to strengthen. They attempt to speak to me, but I shut them out.
This I must do alone.
“Laven!”
I stare at the doors of the Throne Room in fear and the bellowing of my name grows louder.
I try to remember how to shield a door from opening, yet my powers are faulty, my mind is too far gone to function even a slight bit of my powers.
By the struggling behind the doors, I believe I was able to summon a sliver of my strength.
It is not enough—the doors burst open and I cry harder.
Ivella searches the room before seeing me. She glances down at the broken urn, the ashes, and me.
The closer she steps, the quicker I realize I am sitting on the floor.
She kneels in front of me still dressed in her leather armor.
Her eyes bore into my own and a gentle smile appears on her face as she scoots closer.
My lips tremble as I try to speak and she shakes her head, stopping me from attempting to utter a word.
Then all there is, is guilt. The guilt of having to let someone ignore everything they are going through to cater to me.
“I am a burden to you,” I say through the sobs shattering my words.
She is not offended by what I say. If anything, she seems hurt. “When have I ever said that?”
“You have not . . . you manage enough of your own suffering to have to accommodate my own with it.”
Again, her head shakes, and that soft smile does not leave. “You are not burdening me. You would only be voicing your griefs and we would sort through them.”
Say it you coward. Tell her . . .
Ivella looks at the floor and the mess of Lorsius around us.
Grabbing my hands, she pulls me to stand with her, and I do.
She stares up at me and dusts me free from the dirt of death and places a hand on my cheek. “You do not always have to be the hero.”
“If not me, then who?”
Her hands tighten on my face. “You know who.”
I grip on to her wrists as her hold is unrelenting and Levora appears at the door.
“Put him to bed, please.” Ivella says and Levora nods.
Levora replaces Ivella’s hands with hers and leads me away. When I look over my shoulder I see the hue of orange fading as she has ascended.
