A Dirge for Princes by Morgan Rice
“Sebastian, Rupert, you have both spoken eloquently,” she said. “For now, let us leave those here to discuss your proposals. I want to speak to you both privately.”
***
She led the way into an ante-chamber, leaving behind even the usual collection of servants and guards who followed her every movement. She headed over to a chair, barely making it halfway before a coughing fit took her, forcing her down to one knee.
Sebastian was there at once, of course, with Rupert there only a moment later, once he’d realized that it was the kind of thing a good son would do. There always seemed to be that slight hesitation with Rupert when it came to that kind of thing, as if he were playing a part.
“Mother, is something wrong?” Rupert asked, as the two of them more or less carried her to the chair she’d been aiming for.
The Dowager wiped her mouth, unsurprised by the blood she found there.
“Yes,” she said, “something is wrong. Something I have been hiding for a long time now.” There was no easy way to say any of this, so she didn’t try to hold it back from them. “I’m dying.”
She could see the shock on both of their faces as she told them. Good. It meant that her efforts to hide the extent of her weakness had been successful, even with her own family. If that was the case, then her enemies probably wouldn’t know either. Goddess knew she’d amassed enough of those over the years.
“You can’t be dying,” Sebastian said. “I mean… how?”
“Is it poison?” Rupert asked. Of course his mind would jump to that. “Tell me who is doing this, and I’ll make them watch while I—”
“It isn’t poison,” the Dowager said, not wanting to hear the rest of her son’s cruel imagining. “The physikers tell me that there is a cancer in my lungs that is spreading through my body. I have managed to hide its effects so far, because I did not wish to appear weak.”
“Weak?” Sebastian said. “If you’d told us, then—”
“Then what would you have been able to do?” she asked. “Trust me, my boys, I have asked every doctor, wise man, and healer this kingdom has. I have asked men who have spent their lives studying the twelve books of Asclepius of ancient Hellas. I have asked priests. I even asked a would-be magician, before his execution.”
She gave them a moment to consider the desperation of that, given how much time she had put into hunting down those with magical talents.
“Ultimately, they all said the same thing: there are some things that cannot be undone. I am dying, and the only thing to do is accept that fate.”
She stared at her boys, then pulled them to her, holding them close. She was surprised by how much she needed that contact in that moment, but she didn’t let it last too long. She had to stay strong for both of them, and for the kingdom she had worked so hard to secure.
“There are things that we need to plan,” she said. “I had been hoping to deal with all this at a time of my choosing, but the invasion has shown me how little time there is.”
“What needs to be planned?” Rupert asked.
The Dowager didn’t hesitate. “My succession. I need to decide who will follow me.”
She watched the changes in her sons’ expressions. Sebastian looked surprised, but then as if he understood. Rupert mostly looked angry.
“There’s nothing to plan!” he stormed. “I’m the firstborn! I am the heir by right.”
The Dowager had half expected that, but it didn’t make her own anger any easier to sidestep.
“If you think it works like that, then you have paid even less attention to your lessons than your tutors told me,” she snapped. “Even before our house took the kingdom, it went to the one that the kingdom’s magic chose.” She shook her head at the stupidity of that practice, as if something as wild as magic could ever choose a good ruler. “Now, it will go to whichever person of royal blood the Assembly of Nobles acclaims.”
“They will do as they are commanded!” Rupert shot back.
He still didn’t understand how the kingdom worked. He didn’t understand any of the compromises that had been necessary to hold onto the throne. He still thought like some potentate from days gone by, who could see his every whim obeyed. He didn’t understand what it took to balance the nobles and the Church of the Masked Goddess, the interests of the merchants and the farmers, the soldiers and the rest.
“They will do as they are persuaded to do,” she said. “And I intend to tell them that I believe Sebastian should be my heir.”
“No,” Rupert said. He looked as if the world were collapsing from under him. “No, you can’t do that! I am the heir. I deserve to be heir!”
“Deserve?” the Dowager asked. “What do you deserve, Rupert? You are my son, and I have spent my life hoping that you would become what the kingdom needs, but the truth is that you will never be it. You are lazy. You are cruel. You make rash choices. Do you think I don’t know about all the people you’ve hurt? Do you think no one tells me about the trouble you’ve caused?”
“What’s the alternative?” Rupert demanded. He pointed at Sebastian. “Him?”
She turned to Sebastian. “Sebastian is wiser and kinder. Did you think it was a coincidence that I have sought a marriage for him that will bring us political allies? That I have sent him to fight our enemies? The Assembly will accept him.”
Rupert stood there, so obviously angry that the Dowager suspected her son might even attack her. Instead, he turned without even the protocol of a bow.
“This isn’t over,” he promised, and stormed out.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Even though Sophia knew that she was telling the truth about who she was, she still felt a twinge of fear as the guards led her and Kate through the gates of Ishjemme’s castle. What if their uncle didn’t believe who they were? What if he treated them as imposters, out to deceive?
By the time they reached the castle’s main hall, Sophia was almost trembling with the prospect of meeting her uncle. Sienne seemed to sense that fear, the forest cat looking around for enemies with every step. Even Kate seemed on edge, her hand never straying far from the hilt of the slender sword she wore.
The guards threw open the doors, and Sophia saw that what had once been some ancient hall had now been reworked as a modern grand reception room, the stone walls painted and plastered, the ceilings covered with figures out of stories Sophia only half remembered. The first of the giants, the cows Finnael had stolen from the Old Gods.
There was a throne there, but the man within did not sit on it. Instead, he had a seat set lower, behind a desk of old oak. His hair had obviously once been flame red, but was now faded and shot through with gray. His features were broad, his frame tall and slender. This was the man Sophia remembered as her uncle. This was Lars Skyddar.
She walked forward, close to the desk, trying to remember all she could, because she knew that she and Kate would have to prove who they were soon enough. She stood in front of him, trying to remember all the stories he’d told, all the things they’d done together, trying to work out which parts of it would serve as shreds of proof.
“By all the gods,” their uncle said. “You look just like Christina.”
He stepped forward, enfolding them both in a hug that was as all-encompassing as it was unexpected. Sophia could see the tears in his eyes as he did it.
“I never thought that we would find you,” he said. “Do you remember your Uncle Lars? Sophia, I remember telling you stories, and playing at sword fights with you, little one.” He gestured to Kate. “Looks as though you can still use a sword.”
“I can,” Kate said, looking surprised.
“Come, come,” their uncle said. He put his arms around their shoulders. “I have so many questions. Let me show you Ishjemme.”
Sophia was a little shocked by the speed with which he’d accepted them, and it was obvious that the guards were too, because they stood there a little uncertainly.
“What are you standing there for?” their uncle asked.
The guards hurried off, obviously still surprised by it all. Sophia went with Kate in their uncle’s wake, following him through the castle. It was a strange place, since it obviously had ancient foundations, but the interior was far more modern, reminding her a little of the palace back at Ashton.
“You must tell me what has happened to you,” their uncle said. “We tried to find you after the fire, but you were gone, and we had to get your parents out of the country. What happened?”
“We ended up in one of the Houses of the Unclaimed,” Sophia said. She lifted the hem of her dress, revealing the tattoo there. “We were to be indentured.”
She heard her uncle’s intake of breath. “A barbaric thing. Your parents sought to stop it. It is probably part of why the Flambergs wanted them dead. There was too much to lose.”
“What happened that night?” Sophia asked. “I remember running, but we don’t know what happened to our parents.”
Their uncle shrugged. “We got them out and hid them. They’ve had to keep moving, though, because assassins would follow if they didn’t. There are factions, even here. The last I heard, they were in the Silk Lands to the east, but that was years ago. I don’t even truly know if they live.”
That left Sophia feeling almost empty, because she’d been so sure that her uncle would have the answers when it came to her parents. Even so, this was more than she could ever have gotten alone.
“Come, come,” their uncle said, leading the way upward, along a staircase, to a door that led out onto battlements. The air out there was cold, but not as cold as Sophia might have expected. The city beyond looked to be a place of brightly painted houses, fir trees in between them in a way that made it seem almost like a connected series of hamlets within a forest. There were walls around the city, and beyond them, Sophia could see farmland stretching out into the distance. Sophia could see some of them covered with what looked like a practicing army.
“Ah, Hans is drilling the troops,” their uncle said. “He is one of my sons. He thinks that we should invade the Flambergs’ stolen kingdom while they are weak and take it back.”
“You sound as though you don’t agree,” Kate said.
He spread his hands. “I think that the ice and the mountains do a lot to keep us safe, but it is a different matter trying to invade a kingdom.”
“One of your sons?” Sophia asked, wanting to change the subject.
Lars smiled. “I have six sons and one daughter. Come, we’ll find some of them. You should meet your cousins.”
He led the way back down into the castle. “Ulf and Frig will be arguing somewhere, no doubt. They live to rile one another, those two, and lately they have taken different sides over whether we should expand our borders. Ah, here we go.”
He led the way into a room where two young men were playing a game with pieces shaped from dark stone. A little way away, a young woman was practicing on a harp larger than she was. All had the same red hair as their father, although the shade of it varied from bright copper in the girl to a deep auburn that was almost brown in one of the boys. They looked up as their father entered, and Sophia could feel their eyes on her.
Is this really them? the girl was thinking. The rumors say it is, but we’ve been disappointed before.
“Rika, Jan, Oli, I would like you to meet your cousins, Sophia and Kate. Girls, these are three of the small horde of my children.”
The girl, Rika, came forward to take their hands. “It’s so good to finally meet you. If you’re staying here, I can show you around, it will be so much fun.”
Jan seemed a little more reserved than his sister. Even so, he seemed pleased to meet them both, smiling as he looked over at Sophia in particular. She was surprised to find that she couldn’t see his or Oli’s thoughts the way she could their sister’s.
Oli dropped into a bow that seemed far too serious.
“Oh, what are you doing now, Oli?” Rika asked.
The young man didn’t rise. “If they are Lord Alfred and Lady Christina’s daughters, then they are the rightful heirs to the throne across the water, and since the Dukedom of Ishjemme is a protectorate of that kingdom… they are our rightful rulers, Rika.”
That was enough to make Sophia pause. It couldn’t be right.
To her surprise, though, her uncle nodded.
“This is true, Oli,” he said. “Well remembered.”
He offered a bow of his own to Sophia.
“I promised your parents that you would be safe,” he said. “That I would do whatever I needed to protect you. I will do that, with my life if necessary.”
Sophia didn’t know what to say to that. It felt as though everyone was suddenly trying to push her into a role she hadn’t prepared for.
“Now,” her uncle said. “We must see to that feast!”
***
Kate winced as a tattoo artist worked on her calf, obliterating the mark that had been there to claim her.
“Hold still,” the man said. Kate could feel the tingle of something more than the needles as he worked.
“You have magic, don’t you?” Kate asked.
The man looked up. “A little, yes. Enough that there won’t be any mark when I’m done. In this place, it isn’t dangerous to admit.”
There was a knock at the door then, and a young man came in, looking like yet another of her cousins. He was only a little taller than she was, and was dressed in a mixture of velvet and suede broken here and there by flashes of silver.
“You must be Kate,” he said. “I’m Endi. Father sent me to tell you that it is almost time for the banquet. It’s good to be able to meet you at last.”
“You too,” Kate said, as he took her hand.
“He also said to tell you that a bird has been sent to the Silk Lands with a message. If it can find your parents, it will.”
Kate dared a moment of hope at that, quickly cut short by the pain of the tattoo artist making another pass on her calf.
“Are you ready for the banquet?” Endi asked.
Kate looked over to the tattoo artist, who nodded. “I guess I am.”
Her cousin frowned. “Are you sure you don’t want to change first? I could have a dress brought up—”
“No,” Kate said firmly. “No dresses.”
She went with Endi to the hall, which was now laid out with table after table of food: fish from the surrounding waters, vegetables and herbs gathered in the hills, and reindeer herded in the lands around the city. There were many people who were probably retainers or friends of the Skyddars, but more of those there seemed to be relatives of some kind. Endi took great delight in knowing every last one of them, introducing them to Kate at bewildering speed.
“This is Great-Aunt Matild,” he said, “and that table over there is for our second cousins who sail the fjords. Those are relatives by marriage, they don’t really matter, and…”
Kate saw Sophia at a table at the head of the room, sitting with their uncle and assorted cousins. She had a dress, dark and lined with fox fur, looking somehow regal as she sat in front of the rest of the room. She was already laughing and talking with a pair of cousins Kate guessed to be Ulf and Frig, the young man broad-shouldered and with the barest beginnings of a beard, the young woman short-haired and looking almost as uncomfortable in a dress as Kate might have been.
Kate went up to join them, and they moved across, making room for her.
“What do you think, Kate?” Rika asked as she sat down.
“What about?” Kate replied.
“All the legends of the Silk Lands. They can’t all be real, can they?”
Kate frowned at that. “What legends?”
“You haven’t heard?”
“I told you,” Sophia said, “the nuns didn’t tell us stories of far-off lands. They probably thought it would encourage us to escape.”
“It’s hard to believe that anyone could
Endi shook his head. “You always were soft-hearted, sister.”
Frig nodded. “People always find ways to be cruel. It’s why we must be strong.”
“Why don’t you tell us about it?” Ulf asked.
Kate did her best to explain what life had been like for them in Ashton, and that seemed to be the prompt for other stories. Oli told tales of the legendary creatures that were supposed to be common in the Silk Lands, while Jan scoffed at him for being gullible.
“The Silk Lands aren’t like that,” Jan said.
“And how would you know that?” his brother shot back. “The traders from there tell us about the creatures there, and the magic.”
“The traders who come here tell us what they want us to hear,” Jan said. “They make it sound special, so they can sell us things at twice the price.”
“You’re a cynic, brother.”
Hans told a story about the wolves that were supposed to live out in Ishjemme’s wilds, while Ulf turned that into a legend about wolves that were supposed to eat the world at the end of time. He drank mead as he told it, and so did most of the others. Even Kate tried it, the sweetness of it burning through her.
The stories kept coming, and Kate couldn’t keep up with them. The truth was that it didn’t matter as much as simply being at the heart of all that family, feeling as though she belonged somewhere at long last.
“Then there’s the story Great-Aunt Matild tells about you and your sister,” Endi said.
“A story about us?” Kate asked. That caught her a little by surprise.
“That isn’t a story,” Frig insisted. “It’s a prophecy. You know Great-Aunt Matild used to have the family gift.”
“Prophecy,” Endi said with a snort. “More like a way to make the rest of us feel like we aren’t keeping up.”
“What prophecy?” Kate demanded.
Rika answered, reciting as if she’d learned it by rote. “Two sisters, world striding. Long ruling, life bringing. Both ruling, both standing. One by might and one by grace.”