Page 58 of The Laws of Nature (Heirs of the Empire #3)

The room smells slightly damp. They are below ground.

Rafus wonders how that happened. Had the long corridor sloped down in some subtle way?

No, he remembers, the Bride House sits before the large hill that the Ivory Palace is atop of.

It must also extend back into that hill. And this room is deep within it.

The room contains a round table, so large it almost fills it with only enough space for a single man to pass around.

On the table a large candelabra burns with twelve green candles.

The only light in the room. The walls are stone.

They have a slight curve to them as they arch up to become the chamber’s ceiling, adding to the sense that this is some kind of cellar.

“Where are we?” Rafus says. “I thought you said you were taking me to see Mareena.”

“I did not say that,” says Doroth Zain. “I asked you to come with me.” He moves behind Rafus to close the chamber door and stands, leaning back against it. Blocking the only exit from the room. He lifts his hands and places steepled fingers under the tip of his nose. A familiar gesture.

“Your son Tobi’s current situation,” Doroth Zain says, almost as if he is making an announcement, “is a delicate matter.”

“ Delicate? ” Rafus exclaims, frowning angrily, “My son has been abducted to be used for pleasure in the bed of the forest king. You are the High Word of Zai. Surely you, before all people would agree that we ought to send the greatest force the empire has at its disposal to retrieve him from this.”

“No,” says Doroth Zain. “The situation is far more complex than that. We must see how things play out in the forest. It will inform our next steps.”

“What are you talking about? Have the Ambolk taken Tobi for some other nefarious purpose? Is Vindar aware of this?”

“My brother, for all his Thousand Eyes, manages to remain utterly ignorant of what is really happening in this world. His tedious schemes are only relevant because he insists on trying to kill the five people we must protect at all costs. We fight a more important battle than Vindar could ever imagine. One in which your role is clear. Is it not? I know you were made aware of what we needed you to do.”

Rafus can feel heat rising in his cheeks. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“I knew you were coming here tonight, Rafus, because your wife informed me of it. Princess Karo and I have been close for some time.”

At mention of Karo, things begin to make more sense. If Doroth Zain also subscribes to Karo’s strange notions then it is little wonder he sounds like he is fanciful. Rafus sighs heavily. Sighs and nods. “I see.”

Doroth Zain returns his nod. “Please, Prince Rafus, take a seat.”

There are chairs around the table. Rafus steps forward and takes one, releasing his grip on the white stone with one hand so he can set it in front of him.

As he does so, Doroth Zain says, “When all this is done. Karo will be amongst the most revered heroes in this battle that has been plotted for generations.”

Rafus has no idea what that might mean. Princess Karo, Rafus’s first wife.

The wife whose failure to bear him a child had meant Rafus was granted leave to marry Princess Ullinor, the union that had given him three legitimate children.

Proving, even without the acknowledgement of his bastard children, that Karo’s barren state was certainly not due to him.

However, there was a very simple reason why Rafus had never fathered a child on Karo.

He had never covered her. Even on their wedding night.

Rafus enjoys women. He loves women. All women.

He had never in his whole life met a woman whose company he didn’t enjoy.

He liked to please women. His favourite way to please them was in the coupling bed, but if a woman told him, clearly, what she wanted from him, he was always delighted to oblige. If he could.

And Karo had told him she did not want to lie with him.

Ever. But when he had taken her hand and said that he would dearly do anything she asked, he was a young man, and he had needs and desires that must be fulfilled.

He had put this concern to her and she had told him that she expected him to find his pleasures elsewhere.

In fact, she had said, he had a destiny to do so.

For her, Prince Rafus would sire five sons on five different women.

And those sons would be the greatest army the world had ever seen.

Rafus had touched his wife’s pale face and given her an indulgent smile. “No man can sire an army, dear wife. Even me.”

Karo had looked at him. Her face unsmiling. Her strange haughty beauty enough to take Rafus’s breath. He desired Karo. He would not have married her if he did not. But his desire to please her was greater, far greater, than his desire to cover her.

“You carry fae blood from your Hevelikar ancestor,” Karo had said in a voice that was slow, calm and deep.

“The queen of Sarelik Darek. Perpetu the Twice Traitor. You carry that blood and with it you will father five Fae Princes. They will defeat the Bellator. When the demon Ur-Durik rises in the Amber Forest.”

It had been ridiculous of course, some heathen nonsense.

A sop to his ego and an explanation for why Karo was so calmly obliging when it came to Rafus’s dalliances.

But Rafus had simply accepted it. Voiced nothing about her strange ideas.

It made Karo happy. For Rafus, that was the point.

And although she had never expressed any further interest in the illegitimate sons Rafus fathered over the years of their marriage, she has never castigated him for them either, making her a rarity in Rafus’s life.

And a distinct contrast to Rafus’s second wife Ullinor, who he adored, not least for the three true born children she had given him, but who had been disgusted every time Rafus had to confess another misstep, another time he had spilled his seed on the wrong side of the sheets.

When Rafus had left Attar enraged by what had been done to Damon, it had not surprised him that Atticul and Ullinor had chosen to stay in the Tower of the Heir at the Rose Palace.

Atticul, Rafus knew, was distancing himself from his father on purpose, ensuring his own place in the Royal Line remained secure.

Ullinor had wanted to stay near her son and daughter.

And Rafus could not blame her. It had only been a handful of moons since she had lost her Sweetpea.

But Karo, his perfect marble queen, had travelled with Rafus to Attar. And, truly, Rafus had never been quite sure why.

Rafus looks at Doroth Zain. “So this is about Karo’s great demon? Ur-Durik? Who will rise again and must be fought by my sons.” He tries to say it as if he believes it.

“Ah,” Doroth Zain says, “the demon who comes has many names. Ur-Durik, Diazuul, Zai.”

“Zai?” Rafus frowns. “Your own God? Your own God is this demon you battle?” He had not expected that.

“I have come to know much about Zai over the years,” Doroth Zain says. “And when, some years ago, a great truth was revealed to me, I knew at once that the story was true. Zai is the name of a demon. A demon that the worship of Azuria has only made stronger.”

Rafus finds all this confusing. But it is not unusual for Doroth Zain to rant confusingly about Zai. Although this is a new slant. He looks down and notices that on the table is a map. Like the one on the marble floor of the entrance hall in the Rose Palace. A map of the world.

Rafus looks at Doroth Zain. “So you must need Tobi to escape the Amber Forest if he is part of your army that will fight this demon Ur-Durik?” He cannot bring himself to call it Zai. Perhaps this is a test. Doroth Zain is trying to trick him into blasphemy.

“He must return. It is imperative. Although I cannot interfere with the workings of the Verilissia. But they know who he is. There are many of us who watch your sons.”

“Who watch my sons?”

“Yes. Many of us are aware of their importance. In Attar, in Ismagaar.”

“And in the Forest of Amber. You have someone there? Keeping Tobi safe?”

“The Amber Forest is the home of the Verilissia, a sacred sisterhood of guardians that have watched over Ur-Durik for a thousand thousand years. Awaiting the five fae princes who will vanquish Ur-Durik when he rises. A little over twenty years ago, he breached the prison they had made for him. That was when we knew what had been foretold was coming true. When we knew we had been right to bring the five fae princes back. Ur-Durik is rising.”

“Five,” Rafus says. He cannot understand.

There are not five. His sons total seven, but three of them are dead.

And only three of the ones that live still are the bastard born children Karo told him would form this army.

She had told him his true born children would not count.

That only his sons born of sin against Zai could enact the rites.

Doroth Zain looks at Rafus with his calm grey eyes.

“Let me explain,” he says. “You have sired five bastards. The first, the warrior.” He places a small brass sword on the table map.

Beside Attar. “The thief,” he says, placing a brass hook beside the sword.

“The fool,” a brass cat he places in the north of the Forest of Amber.

“The magician,” a brass coin he places on the isle of Ulla.

Finally he takes a brass hare. “And the scholar.” He places this final token in Attar.

“They must all come together. All of them. Including Tobi.”

Rafus’s heart starts to beat fast. Suddenly, he realises this is about more than Tobi’s safety. This is about…“Are you telling me that they are all safe. All alive?”

“One of your children is dead. Prince Endrew. But your children with Princess Ullinor do not concern us. They are not part of this.”

“But the others all live still?” Rafus points to the cat. “And this is Tobi. In the forest. The fool?”

Doroth Zain nods.

“And this is Lukas?” He points to the hook. “The thief?”

“This is Jemel.” He points to the hare. “The scholar.” Another nod.

“And this, this is Kerik. The magician.” Rafus points to the coin. As Doroth Zain gives him another nod, he says, “Then you believe Kerik still alive? You commended him to Zai?”

Doroth Zain nods. “Kerik is alive. He is on Ulla. With another of our allies.”

“Ulla?” Rafus is shocked. “That is one of the isles of the Fae. Is he safe?”

“He is at the Ice Court in Vylenor,” Doroth Zain says.

This is strange news, but Rafus has other concerns. He points to the brass sword. The first token Doroth Zain laid on the table. His hand is shaking. He can hardly bear to ask in case he has somehow misunderstood. “And this is Damon? Damon, my eldest son. He lives too?”

“He lives. He is in Attar. ”

“Damon lives.” Rafus’s heart leaps. Could this be the truth? “I must go to Attar. I must see him.”

Doroth Zain does not reply. He looks past Rafus, to the chamber door behind him, as a familiar voice says, “No. There is no more time for that.”

Rafus turns to see his wife Karo. She stands in the doorway, serene as ever with her cropped dark hair and modest, loose fitting clothing.

Two Brides of Zai stand behind her. She could be one of them.

Rafus has often thought Karo might have been happier joining the brides than being wed to him.

“Rafus you cannot go to Attar,” Karo says.

“Ur-Durik’s plans cannot be stopped now. You have another duty.”

“My love,” Rafus says, rising from his chair. “I didn’t know you wanted to join me. You should have said so.” But of course Rafus would never have been so crude as to ask Karo to come with him to visit the mother of one of his bastard sons — to talk of the fate of one of his bastard sons.

And something in that realisation makes a dark thought occur to him.

Each token on that map represents one of his sons.

One of his sons, abandoned and abused by the Rose Court and the Azurian Empire.

Damon: exiled into death, Lukas: branded a traitor, Kerik: forgotten, Jemel: a filthy secret, his true parentage unknown even to him.

And Tobi: left to his fate in the hands of a forest king.

But no matter, because despite all of this, they are still alive.

Doroth Zain and his perfect wife have been watching over them all this time.

They are his grand army of bastards, fae princes, prophesied to save the world.

And he, their father. The key to it all.

He must help them. He is no longer part of the Rose Court, but he is a rich man.

He has the Ivory Palace and a fine income from his lands in Northern Azuria.

Atticul has his birthright. Ferra has Vindar.

But what do the others have? Nothing. Only him.

“I want to join you,” Rafus says, turning away from Karo to look at Doroth Zain.

“You have been watching my sons, helping them. I want to help them too. I will continue to play my part in your fight against this demon Ur-Durik. I will open the Ivory Palace to all of my sons and any of your people who wish to join us there.”

But Doroth Zain shakes his head sadly. “Rafus, your son Atticul has already petitioned the Rose Court to have the Ivory Palace granted to him as the Crown Prince. You will be lucky to have a small keep to your name by Mulcemona. The Rose Court do not take tantrums like yours lightly. They cannot be seen to reward anyone who steps out of line.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rafus says. “Selim is my brother.”

“Markus was also Selim’s brother.”

Rafus swallows. “That was a very different situation.”

Behind Rafus, Karo speaks again. “You are not going to play a part in this Rafus. You have only one duty left to perform.”

Rafus turns back to his wife, Karo is holding a small pearl-handled dagger. Rafus looks at it. He cannot imagine what his wife would be doing with such a thing.

At the same moment the two Brides with Karo move, rounding Rafus to take hold of him, one on each arm.

“Karo?” Rafus says, feeling a jolt of fear in his belly.

“Karo?” he says again. “My love?” He struggles in the arms of the Brides.

But he is an aging man, never a strong man.

He cannot pull free. And Karo is gliding towards him with the dagger raised in her pale hand.

“We have no more need of you, Rafus,” Karo says, “but for one final piece. Ur-Durik is coming and the rites that will allow your sons to defeat Zai begins with their father’s blood, spilled on this table.”

Rafus shakes his head. This cannot be happening. Not Karo. She is his wife. His first wife. He only ever tried to please her.

The blade pierces his jacket. A black silk jacket embroidered with a green and purple peacock on the breast.