Page 4 of Winds of Destiny
Turo
The throne room of Zephyth is an architectural marvel, carved out of the solid stone of the mountainside and gently enhanced with living coral that makes its features ever-changing. The throne in the center of it is utterly unique, covered in the opalescent scales of Zephyth’s patron god. When the king sits there, he is an intimidating figure, as wise and distant as the moon itself.
When he is pacing around the space in front of the throne screaming at you over your foolishness, he is equally intimidating but far less reserved.
“Absolute idiocy! Incomparable stupidity! What were the two of you thinking , charging out onto the plains when our guardsmen were already on their way to take care of things? It beggars comprehension, it truly does.” He glares between me and his son, dark eyes daring one of us to open our mouths.
I can’t. I have nothing to say to excuse myself.
I do my best to keep my expression neutral, but I know there are cracks in the stone of my facade. I’ve only been shouted at by the king a few times before, but each time has been regrettably memorable.
This one is the worst by far.
King Perael steps toward me, long white hair in disarray, fury and fear in equal measure in his voice as he points a finger at my face. “You, especially, astonish me, Turo. Out of the pair of you, I thought that you at least had a finger’s breadth of sense in your body, but you’ve proven me wrong today. You endangered my son’s life with this stunt of yours, you who should treasure his life above all others.”
Even yours , he doesn’t say, but I hear it loud and clear.
I bow my head in acknowledgment. He’s right, after all.
Cam speaks up then, always driven to protect me even when I don’t deserve it. “Father, the guard was being cut down like weeds! Your precious Dellians likely wouldn’t have survived if I hadn’t gone out there and moved the whelvers into a position of cover. And—”
“Don’t start with me on what was likely ,” the king shouts, spinning toward his son. “Given your disadvantages in that fight, it was likely that you would be murdered in front of my very eyes before I could get anyone out there to save you!”
His anger is plain, but so is his fear. “Do you take me for a fool, not to realize what was going on out there? I heard Doric’s horn as well as you two did. I had reinforcements on the way, battle-armored troops who could have supported the Dellians without needing you to use forgotten herding techniques to move our whelvers again.”
“Father, please.” Gilraen, Cam’s older sister, tries to interject here, but not even her soothing voice and calm presence are enough to calm the king’s rage.
He brushes aside her gentling hand and shakes his head. “No. I will accept no more excuses for the behavior between the two of them. The time for allowing the two of you to run unchecked like a pair of wild jaka is over.”
He looks from Cam to me and back again. “You are engaged, my son. It’s time to turn your mind and your heart toward your new home and your new husband. He might not be here himself”—a fact which had made Cam simultaneously grateful and a bit offended—“but his representative is. Your engagement is to become a proxy marriage between you and your betrothed before you leave Zephyth.”
Cam went pale. “A proxy marriage ?” he exclaimed. “Can’t you wait for me to get to Huridell before you officially sell me off?”
“Apparently not, given your recklessness. I’ll see you married here to Prince Eleas by proxy and assure your safety, and the future safety of the home you profess to love.” The king levels Cam with a look. “It also takes away the temptation for you to look for some way out of it on the journey to Huridell.”
He turns to me before Cam can react beyond an outraged gasp. “And you.”
The king is looking at me, but not at my face. He’s staring at my hands.
They’re covered in blood. Doric’s blood. I flex my fingers, and little flakes fall to the floor. The itch that starts in my hands throbs with each pounding ba-bump of my heart. Every nerve prickles on the edge of pain. It’s like my body doesn’t belong to me right now; I can’t control these strange sensations. It’s all I can do to keep my back straight as the king finally looks at my face.
“You were his greatest protégé,” King Perael says, and the soft tenor of his voice is more cutting than any of his harshness has been. “Doric always intended for you to succeed him as Zephyth’s spymaster someday, whether that meant you served me or one of my children. I want to know if you will uphold his word, Turo Detyrr .”
The emphasis is deliberate. A reminder that Doric gave me my last name, making me as good as family.
“You can’t do that!” Cam exclaims, but his father isn’t paying any attention to him.
“Will you accept this charge from the man who saved your life?” the king presses, and oh, he is truly cruel. He could order me to take this position and I would do it because he is my king, but no. He’s asking me to, to prove my love for my mentor. To prove that I am worthy of the favor I was shown after I was pulled out of the ruins of my childhood home.
“Stop it,” Cam hisses, incensed now, but I’m already nodding.
“I will.”
“Turo, no! ” Cam grabs my arm and pulls me away from his father, his own rage coming to the forefront as he stares the king down. “You can’t take him from me now! Not when you’ve already bargained my life away to a whole new city and a man I’ve never even met before. I won’t let you!”
“A prince’s word against his king?” King Perael asks coolly. “My dear boy, you squandered any say by using his loyalty to disobey me . It’s past time for the two of you to be separated. Turo will take over Doric’s position, ensure that you and the Dellians make it to the border of their land, and then he’ll return here while you accompany Prince Eleas’s honor guard to your new home.”
“You can’t —”
A knock on the door stills the argument. A moment later one of the king’s personal servants bows his head in. “The Dellians are waiting, your majesty.”
“Good,” King Perael says. “Show them in.” He turns away from his son and heads over to his throne. He sits, and in an instant becomes opulent and untouchable once more. “Gilraen, you and Camrael shall greet them with me. I want to see nothing but welcome on your faces when they enter the room.
“And you.” He looks at me and grimaces. “Go and clean yourself up.”
“Don’t treat him like just another servant,” Cam says.
“Don’t treat him like more than a servant,” the king shoots back. “No matter how you may have deluded yourself over the years, the two of you are not the same.”
“That’s true, I suppose.” Cam laughs caustically. “If only I had been born a servant , I might be of real use to our city, like Turo has been, rather than locked in a tower and allowed my little amusements while you planned a wedding behind my back!”
For a moment, the king looks regretful. “The burdens of being a prince are heavy,” he says. “But never doubt that for all this may feel like a punishment, the only thing that weighs heavier in my mind than the welfare of this entire city is that of you and your sister. I love you with my whole heart.”
The air is fraught with emotion, Cam clearly wanting to believe his father. “But if the price for peace and your continued comfort is this marriage, then that is a price I am willing to pay.”
“And taking Turo from me?” Cam whispers, the brief hope in his face dying. “What part of the price is that?”
“The price of being unwise with your heart, my son,” his father says, equally softly, before standing and holding out his arms. “Welcome, friends! Welcome to Zephyth. A thousand apologies for the nature of your arrival.”
I almost startle as I realize that the Dellians have entered the room without me being aware of it. Either they’re far sneakier than they look, or I’m far less alert than I should be. They’re almost as filthy as I am, but I doubt the king will chide them for it.
Gilraen has already stepped up next to Cam, smiling toward the Dellians as she takes her brother’s hand. Cam, however, is still looking at me. I can’t meet his gaze. I don’t belong here. My hands itch worse than ever—I need to leave, now.
I bow to the king, then turn and leave the throne room. I don’t even glance toward the Dellians, tempting though it is. I don’t want to know what they might read in my face right now.
Once I’m safe in the hallway and the door is closed, I take a moment to close my eyes and just breathe. I need to regain my center, my sense of control. I need to calm down and focus. I need—
A roar of laughter erupts from the throne room, easily audible even through the door. Their leader is as noisy as he is striking. Any other time, I would be standing beside Cam as he checks the man out and tells me how “climbable” he is. But our time is over.
I clench my hands and stride away down the hall, shedding flecks of blood with every step.