HIGH KING RHYDAN rolled onto his side, wrapped his arm around his wife and pulled her close. “I don’t want to get up. I decree we stay in today. You think anyone would notice?”
“Of course not. Who would notice the king and queen missing?” Ellise rolled over to face him. “Though it would be nice.” She ran her hands through his hair, which had long since gone gray with age. “Do you have anything special planned for the ambassadors’ last day?”
“I thought about taking them on a hunt. The grouse are good this time of year and our spaniels could use a little exercise—”
“They aren’t the only ones,” Ellise said with a small poke to his waistline.
“Watch it, woman—” “I’m trying not to.”
Rhydan couldn’t help but chuckle. “A diversion would be a welcome change from these constant meetings where nothing of value ever gets accomplished, unless of course you count new and creative ways of insulting each other without appearing to do so.” He grunted with exasperation.
“Just make sure they don’t shoot each other,” Ellise said with a teasing smile. “Although, I don’t believe there would be too many who’d complain if a stray arrow were to strike the Cylmaran Ambassador.”
Rhydan laughed. “Treacherous talk like that keeps me thankful you’re not my enemy, dearest.”
Ellise playfully touched Rhydan’s nose with her finger. “And don’t you forget it.”
“You wouldn’t let me.” He pulled her close and let his lips hold tight to hers.
 |
After taking breakfast in his room with Ellise, Rhydan dressed and retreated to his study where he drew up a formal request for each of the ambassadors to join him on a hunt that afternoon. Upon dispatching his
notices, he sent a runner to inform both Commander Tolin and the Guardian Protector of his desire to meet with them straightaway.
Within less than ten minutes, both men were standing outside his study door awaiting announcement by one of the duty guards. Commander Tolin was a large grizzly bear of a man, almost a head taller than the guardian. He had a short, well-groomed beard that covered his strong features. His face
bore the scars of previously fought battles. His thick hair, which was showing more than a touch of gray at the sides, was pulled back and tied off with a red strip.
The duty guard stepped inside and acknowledged their presence. With a fist to his chest in salute, the guard waited for the two men to pass.
Rhydan stood from behind his finely crafted desk and pointed to a grouping of prearranged chairs. Each was cut from the same black walnut as the desk and held a splat of interwoven, hand-carved vines and leaves around the outer edge. “Take a seat, gentlemen.” The two waited for him to sit before reclining onto the soft velvet cushions. “I will be joining the
ambassadors on a hunt this afternoon at first hour.” Rhydan crossed his right leg as he sunk further into his seat. “Commander Tolin, I would like you to arrange for a full lancer escort.” He raised his hand. “Now before you say anything, I know it’s not customary to use a full guard for a simple hunt, but I would like to present our guests with a strong show of force
before they leave.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Might I suggest Overcaptain Asa with second company?”
“I’ll leave the details in your capable hands, Commander, although I would like you to join us.”
Tolin bowed his head. “It would be my pleasure, Your Majesty.”
“I’m sure you will need to see to your men, Commander, so don’t let me keep you.”
Taking the gentle hint, Tolin stood and offered another deep bow. “By your leave, Your Majesty.”
Rhydan nodded his approval. It was easy to see why Commander Tolin was so respected by the lancers. The man was a paragon of virtue. His
actions spoke volumes. He never had to raise his voice for his orders to be carried out. His men would follow him into the Pits of Aran’gal if he wished it. Rhydan was truly thankful for the commander’s support.
Once the doors had completely closed behind Tolin, Rhydan shifted his attention to Ayrion. “Considering your last encounter with our esteemed ambassador from Cylmar, I want your presence felt at every available opportunity.” He leaned forward. “Overlord Saryn has been testing our
resolve for the last two seasons by paying off armsmen to raid our outlying villages. The only thing men like Saryn respect is someone more dangerous than they are. We need to present such a visage, and hope Ambassador Belkor will relay those sentiments before more drastic measures are
required.”
“As your guardian, it is my solemn duty to stand by your side, Your Majesty.”
Hearing the guardian’s declaration filled Rhydan with pride. His face softened. “I would like to believe it is for more than mere duty that you do so, Ayrion.”
This sentiment caught Ayrion off guard. “Your Highness, there is no one I respect more or hold in higher esteem.” Ayrion cleared his throat. “You
saw something in me that I didn’t see in myself. You gave me a purpose as well as a home, and for that I could never begin to repay you except through my service. I could never hope for, or expect, more.”
Rhydan leaned back in his seat with a heavy sigh. “There are times I wish . . .” He lowered his head. “Well, no matter. No sense dwelling on what is not.” He smiled at the young warrior in black. “Your service honors me, Ayrion. It always has. If only my own flesh and blood could do the
same.”
Ayrion’s face tensed. “I am sure the prince cares, Your Majesty.”
Rhydan lowered his head. “If only I could believe that. I fear I’ve been far too lenient in his upbringing.” Because of his own forceful upbringing, by a father who cared more for his position than his family, Rhydan had
always said he would not do the same with his own children. He was beginning to wonder if that had been a mistake as well.
He took a deep breath and released it. Rhydan could tell the topic of conversation was making Ayrion feel uncomfortable so he shifted it to something a little more upbeat. “The queen tells me you have been seen on more than one occasion in the gardens with a certain young lady.”
Rhydan had caught his guardian off-guard. “Oh. Uh . . . yes, Your Majesty. I find her company quite . . .” He looked like he was struggling to find the appropriate word. “Rewarding.”
“Rewarding?” Rhydan laughed. “Not quite the word I might have used for a beautiful young woman, but maybe things have changed since I was young and in love.”
It was painfully obvious to Rhydan the uncomfortable nature the conversation was having on Ayrion as the young man felt the sudden urge to study the intricate weave on the arm of his chair. Ayrion would rather
take on an army of Scorvinians from out of the Westlands than find himself discussing matters of the heart. “Well, I’m sure you have plenty to do
before the hunt,” Rhydan said, letting Ayrion off the hook. “So I will release you to it before I embarrass you further.”
Ayrion, not quite leaping, stood to his feet. “Yes, Your Majesty, I mean, no, Your Majesty, I mean . . .” Apparently too flustered to continue, he simply bowed. “By your leave.”
Rhydan nodded. His eyes flickered with a trace of humor as Ayrion made a quick retreat.
With the last of his appointments for the morning taken care of, Rhydan decided that instead of a written invitation, he would personally invite his son to attend the hunt. It had been a long time since Dakaran had accompanied him anywhere. His son had grown more distant over the last few years. No matter how much he tried to include Dakaran in the royal affairs, the prince never seemed to find the interest. He was either too busy, or too tired, or too full of wine. Rhydan couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his son without a glass in his hand. He had hoped that a little of Ayrion’s personality would have rubbed off on his son. It was one of the main reasons he had chosen Ayrion as a playmate for Dakaran as children. There had always been something special about the little street rat.
Rhydan had hoped that Dakaran’s recent act of choosing a personal advisor had signified that he was going to turn his life around and finally start taking on some accountability, but instead, he seemed to be getting worse. Ellise had counseled him to use a firm hand with their son, but
Rhydan knew from experience with his own father that a firm hand wasn’t always the answer. And now, Rhydan was afraid that it might be too late to make a difference.
Taking a deep breath, he knocked on his son’s door and entered.
The prince’s chambers were lavish and perhaps a bit extravagant in their décor, which was just another indicator marking the many differences that separated them. Dakaran enjoyed the finer pleasures life had to offer and had no timidity in flaunting such.
In the next room, Rhydan could see his son lying prostrate upon his
enormous canopy bed. It was centrally butted against the right wall of his sleeping chambers. A set of ornate doors, connecting the prince’s private chambers to the large sitting room where Rhydan waited, stood open.
Dakaran slid off the bed and bowed. “Your Majesty.”
Rhydan could see his son was already in a mood. “Dakaran, in private, I’m your father, not your king.”
“Rather hard to distinguish the two,” the prince said as he sauntered into the sitting room, his cloak hanging half-off one shoulder.
With a regretful sigh, Rhydan lowered his head. “And perhaps that fault lies with me.” Dakaran looked stunned. He also looked to be readying himself for a sarcastic riposte but evidently thought better of it. “My father was ambitious, to say the least. And more often than not it was his family who paid the price. I didn’t want that to happen with mine.”
Rhydan took another step into the room and waved off his statement. “Enough about old history. I was hoping you would join me and the
ambassadors on a hunt this afternoon. I would enjoy your company. It’s been quite a few seasons since we’ve shot together and I thought it might be a way for us to spend some quality time.”
“Is this a request, or a command?”
Rhydan felt his composure begin to slip. “It’s a request from a father to his son. I’ll leave it to you. We leave at first hour.” He didn’t wait around for another argument. He hoped his son would accept his offer, but he wasn’t going to hold his breath.
