The following is an original work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book/story are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The following is intended for mature audiences only.
Chapter 19
I did not like being here.
This may have been the place of my birth, but Nasbith had taken root inside my very being. It became a place I felt more myself than anywhere else I’ve been. Not that I’ve been too many places.
Now that I was here, that feeling of airy relief was replaced by the heavy burden of ostracization.
Ostracization along with the feeling that the walls of my private chambers were getting closer with each breath. That combination was most likely what led to my restlessness. This constant need to roam the halls. Drove my father mad. Tried to assign a guard to follow me around like a lost puppy even though this place was more secure than Nasbith. It was also older. Which meant more places to hide, more places to lose my detail. It could take my entire immortal life to discover every passage hidden in this place.
The only guard I hadn’t been able to outwit was Sterk. Just when I thought I’d lost him, I’d find him casually waiting for me around the corner. He denied it adamantly, but I was convinced he colud glean the future. Fortunately, no Sterk today. No Dreche at all. Only some low ranked guard. Not even an Officer. I didn’t know how to interpret that fact.
Assigning me such an easily duped dope was how I found myself in my father’s personal study. A place forbidden to me since I was six. The last time I was caught in here unattended. Only this time I was armed with a new trick.
After checking the lock on the door for what seemed like the tenth time, I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. Digging deep, tapping into my growing well of power, I pushed myself outward until it felt like a part of me was stretched past the confines of my body.
The first time this happened I panicked and had to reroute all my focus into not losing my breakfast all over the floor. Taking some time, a good deal of time, to calm myself I was able to recreate it. Eventually. I still hadn’t perfected the method, but it worked. Usually.
Most importantly, doing this acted as a warning system. While I could only push myself so far, it was enough to detect if someone was approaching this room. Not that I would be able to escape, But I would have time to prepare myself to get caught. I found that I would get in far less trouble if I didn’t look so guilty and flustered. Maintaining the magical system took effort though. Especially when my focus was split with snooping. I figured I had five minutes or so before the headache started.
So, I got to work quickly.
Opening drawers and rummaging through stacks of parchment. What I was searching for was a mystery that could only be solved once I found the answer.
After only a few minutes I uncovered a key tucked away in the back of one of the drawers. Immediately I knew to which lock it belonged as the two were a perfect, matching set. Slipping it into the bodice of my dress, I continued my search. The key was fantastic but not the answer I sought.
Pressure began to build behind my eyes and my face started to sweat. I was beginning to itch. One more drawer. I had time for one more. In that drawer I found an answer neatly stowed away. An answer I never knew existed.
The sheets of parchment were one side of an ongoing correspondence. I didn’t recognize the name of the sender. But the subject was clear, Anghasi Forinne, the younger brother to King Valeo Forinne and the rightful Eildun king.
King Aesiri Gyphder did not descend from a royal line, or even a noble one. He was originally King Valeo’s adviser. Since King Valeo never married or bore any children and his only living relative wanted nothing to do with the crown, plans had to be made while King Valeo was on his deathbed.
As far as the people knew, Anghasi fled Corianth after Valeo’s death and Aesiri was crowned without contest. The matter was not to be talked about – ever.
According to these letters, not only had Anghasi remained on Corianth, but he was being watched. Him and his wife. His very pregnant wife. Horror filled me as I read how the events unfolded. Plans were being made for this unborn, blooded heir to the throne.
There was nothing in the letters to indicate what made this child so special, other than its bloodline. If that was it, the baby surely would have been killed. But there was something about the baby that was coveted according to the tone and urgency written on the parchment.
The letters were not addressed to anyone other than My Lord. No broken seal, no identifying markers. I couldn’t tell why my father had them. What would he gain from keeping an heir alive?
According to these, the only plans were to protect the baby once it was born. They, whoever they were, wanted to ensure it lived and the parents did not. Those plans varied based on the gender of the child. There was no Eildun prince so I guessed the baby must have been born a girl.
None of these were dated or had a reference of time other than the slight aging of the parchment. Whomever the heir was, she was out there living some kind of life oblivious of her birthright.
I read and re-read all of them. The entire stack. It wasn’t until the third time through that I discovered the latest correspondence stuck to the back of another. This one was addressed to a specific person, not my father, but one that implicated his involvement. Then there was that other little detail – a date. The letter itself wasn’t dated but a timeframe was given. That, along with the implication of an accomplice, forced all the pieces to slide into place. Finneck’s involvement in my life. Constant protection from the guard, the Dreche. Keeping me in relative isolation. Hiding me in plain sight.
The irony was staggering. Was this the reason for altering my appearance? Were they frightened I would resemble my birth father? When I received that letter in Nasbith before the Fae’s visit a few years ago, my father, the man I knew as my father, told me of his plan for me. Made it out to be some spiritual gesture ordained by the gods.
Was he really trying to hide the proof of his crimes?
This was all too much. Most of my life I’d felt alone. Now I was isolated. Bombarded by truth in a cage of lies. There was no one left I could trust.
This time I made no effort to keep from losing my breakfast.
