The King of Forever (Scarlet and the White Wolf, #4) (2 page)

As usual, the praise had turned to slight. “It’s a different kind of learning,” Liall said, nettled.

“Our language is too complex. He will never be able to do more than muddle along in it.”

“He needs more time. It is no matter, either way. Enough Rshani speak Bizye in the Nauhinir, and I speak it like a mother tongue.” He looked at Alexyin to watch his reaction. “I even dream in it sometimes.”

Alexyin blew through pursed lips in displeasure. “Best not to let
that
get around.”

“I intend to keep it to myself, henceforth.” They rounded a sharp corner and saw far down the hall a pair of barred doors where a brace of guards stood watchfully with immense, steel-tipped spears in their hands. The spear-tips crossed over the doors, barring exit or entry.

Liall took a deep breath. “This should have been Cestimir’s duty,” he said quietly.

“Should, but is not. And it is not duty, but honor.” They were at the doors. The guards parted their spears.

Alexyin reached for Liall’s collar to adjust his formal virca and brushed a bit of lint from his shoulder. Liall smiled at the familiarity.

Satisfied with the king’s appearance, Alexyin nodded. “Bring back the sun.”

Liall had never deluded himself that he could read Alexyin perfectly, or that he knew all there was to know about him, but the man’s stubborn rejection of Scarlet was bewildering. Vladei had been a formidable enemy, far beyond Scarlet’s capabilities to deal with. Partnered with an Ancient as powerful as Melev, neither Scarlet nor Cestimir had stood a chance. Why couldn’t Alexyin see that?

“Alexyin,” Liall said gently. “My friend. It was a sleigh ride. Two boys being boys. Nothing more.”

Alexyin folded his hands. “Of course, my lord.”

Liall sighed and let it go. The time to heal the rift between his old teacher and his beloved was not when he had a host of riders waiting. He gestured and the doors parted.

Twenty guards seated on matched silver mounts waited in a blue, freezing dawn. The land had been in twilight for months, but today the giant stars of the Longwalker constellation shone bright and brilliant in the sky, lighting their way. Liall spied Scarlet astride a dappled gray pony in the center of the column, draped in furs and muffled to the nose.

Scarlet saw him, pulled the furs down from his face and grinned. The knot in Liall’s chest eased.

“Remember what we’ve spoken of,” he said quietly to Alexyin, watching Scarlet. “We will not have that conversation again.”

Alexyin glanced at Scarlet. His gaze turned distant and he bent his head. “As my king commands.”

Liall stared at him. It was Alexyin’s shape and form, but he did not know the voice. It was so formal, so bitter.

Liall turned his back and went to Scarlet and the waiting guards, but his spine tingled and his blood was chilled. What had he heard in Alexyin’s voice?

When the wind sent skirls of snow over his boots and the groom came forward to offer him the reins, Liall knew. It was
cold.
Alexyin was cold through to the marrow. When had that happened?

When dear cousin Vladei cut off Cestimir’s head.

Alexyin had never married. He had no children. To Liall’s knowledge, he had truly loved only one person, and that was the murdered prince.

If it were I who had lost his hope and his life’s work, would I turn as wintry inside as Alexyin? What if I lost Scarlet?

Nadei’s face in the last moment he had seen him alive bloomed in Liall’s mind. His brother had looked so surprised to see blood pooling around his feet, his lips turning ashen, and all he could say was,
“Oh.”
As if he had never expected the day to go so wrong.

Thank Deva there were no more royal siblings to slaughter each other for the crown, only that sneaking Eleferi, who was scarcely a threat. Eleferi might be fated to meet the same end as Vladei, but it would not be by his hand. Liall had borne the title of Kinslayer for sixty years. Never again.

For a terrible moment, the deathly cold threatened to slip inside him, to claim a place and leech strength from him to grow.

In the distance, from the craggy cliffs surrounding the palace, he heard a wolf pack calling. The howls filled him with loneliness. He busied himself with the harness and mounting the saddle, and then Scarlet was beside him. The darkness passed.

Scarlet’s black eyes shone and his smooth cheeks blushed apple-red with cold.

Liall smiled. “Good morning, beautiful.”

I will not lose him,
he vowed silently.
I will not.

––––––––

T
he blue twilight that had endured all through the winter dimly illuminated the land spread out below the mesa in a thousand shades of indigo. The great valley was a smooth floor of ice ringed by white hills and jagged black cliffs. Winding through the valley like a silver snake was an endless, shining road, smooth as a calm river.

From horseback, Liall pointed. “The Temple Road,” he said. “Do you not recognize it? It begins at the sea and wends up here through the passes of the Nauhinir, then goes all the way to the sacred mountain of Ged Fanorl.”

Scarlet patted the wild mane of his horse and peered into the distance. He didn’t like to think about that road. He wondered if they had ever recovered Cestimir’s broken sleigh from it.

Unlike Liall, who rode a sleek stallion, Scarlet’s stout, shaggy mount was considered a pony in Rshan. In Byzantur, it could have carried a large man. He made his voice careless. “How far is that?”

“Leagues and leagues.”

Scarlet arched his brows. “You don’t know?”

Liall held the reins loosely in one hand and smiled. “I confess, I do not. It’s been many years since I’ve had reason to count them. I’ve spent more of my life in Byzantur than I have in Rshan.”

In Byzantur, Liall had claimed that Norl Udur was his homeland. Only when they were on the ship did he reveal that Norl Udur was actually Rshan na Ostre, a land Scarlet’s people believed to be a myth, the home of gods and giants.

The high, flat mesa could have afforded them a stunning view, if they were not surrounded by a black circle of standing stones three times the height of a man. A cadre of spear-toting royal guards in full regalia waited patiently outside the stones for them, within earshot but keeping a respectful distance.

“I’ve never gotten dressed up to look at the sky before,” Scarlet said. A thick silver brooch at his throat held the fur cloak pinned together, and beneath that, he wore a fine blue virca embroidered with Liall’s house emblem of stars. A cold wind blew from the north and the stars seemed to pale in the sky.

“This damn thing itches,” Liall complained, shrugging his broad shoulders inside his own heavy formal virca. The leather saddle beneath him creaked with his weight and the horse whickered.

Scarlet looked at the king, admiring the cut of his profile, his sharp cheekbones and snowy hair, and the deep color of his skin, like polished oak. Though most Rshani shared similar traits, Scarlet never tired of looking at this particular one. “At least you’re well-protected. There’s enough silver and gems on that to pass for armor.”

“I look like a peacock in mating season,” Liall groused.

“No one can see us except the rocks and the horses.”

“There are the guards. And the entire Nauhinir when we ride back.”

“You complain much.”

Liall went on as if he hadn’t heard. “I think this virca weighs more than you do.”

Scarlet winked. “When this is over, I’ll see what I can do about getting you out of it.”

Liall laughed, then cleared his throat and straightened his back. “It won’t be long now.”

“What should I do?”

“Pretend to concentrate on the east. Draw your brows together in a frown. Be ever-so-serious.” Liall winked back.

Scarlet studied the valley below. His fingers went to his brooch and he traced the outlines of it. It was a snow bear, exquisitely molded. “I never imagined that snow and ice could hold so many colors.”

Liall glanced at him. “Your sight is truly amazing. I can only see shades of blue and gray, but I’m not a Hilurin.”

“I forgive you.”

The king smirked.

Scarlet had only seen the Temple Road as far as the ruins where Cestimir had died, and never from such a high vantage point. He narrowed his eyes and peered into the distant hills. “I don’t see anything that looks like a sacred mountain.”

“You cannot. You can’t even see the Blackmoat from here. We’d have to travel far past that ridge,” Liall pointed to a line of dark cliffs, so distant that Scarlet could have blotted them out with his thumb, “and take the Temple Road through the valley on the other side to get to the home of the Setna.”

“I’ve never seen a road like that. Doesn’t look natural.” The road was raised yet appeared to be smooth and level, every curve precise and perfect. Scarlet looked to Liall for answers.

Liall shrugged. “The Ancients made the Temple Road, or so the legend goes. Other stories say that the road was here long before them, and the Shining Ones who raised the standing stones still wait inside the ice, longing for the sun to return.”

“Are there more of these stones?” Scarlet looked down at the snow beneath his horse’s hooves.
Inside
the ice?

“This is the largest, but there are many such circles and markers in the far north, and monoliths, too. We think there are many we haven’t found, and many that lie in the deep places, in ice caves and massive rifts in the earth.” Liall nodded his head to the north, where the humped blue and white shapes became strange and hard for the eye to follow. “If we were to venture out there, we might find such things, but few who leave the Temple Road survive. The land is treacherous. Nenos used to tell me it is angry, and that it grows hungry and yearns to devour travelers. But when we travel, the road keeps us safe. Or so the stories say.”

“Did the Ancients build it for themselves?” Scarlet was disturbed by the talk of hungry earth. He looked left and right, but could see nothing moving.

Liall shook his head. “For us, for the Rshani. The road was to lead their descendants out from Fanorl to the sea. There was a time when we, too, lived deep in the center of the continent, but the land was too cruel. The Ancients had to forge a way south for us when we became too many to sustain ourselves. Melev once said that the Ancients were most pleased that their children were so fond of breeding, but they hated crowding, so they built a road to the sun.”

Scarlet frowned at the mention of Melev. If not for Melev, perhaps Cestimir would still be alive. He was not sure who he blamed more for the murder, Melev or Vladei. He was certain of one thing: Vladei had held the sword, but Melev had made it all possible.

“If they’d done that, you’d have ended up in Byzantur,” Scarlet said. “I wouldn’t exactly call Kalas Nauhin
sunny.”

“Near enough. Ancients hate the water, but we don’t.”

“You do.”

Liall chuckled. “I thought we’d cleared that up? I don’t hate the water; I just hate being at the mercy of another’s skill rather than my own. I’m no mariner. Anyway, I’m not your ordinary Rshani.” He gave Scarlet a questioning look. “These are tales any child should know. I thought Jochi was teaching you history?”

Scarlet made a rude noise. “He does, but your lot never runs out of history. Muckety Muck married Muck and they had many mucklings, and then there was war.” He made talking motions with one hand. “Yap yap yap. After a while, all the names run together and sound like babbling water. I can’t tell one Lyran Something who lived a thousand years ago from one who lived a hundred years ago.”

“Lyran is an old family name. I have many ancestors named Lyran. I always told my mother that if I had a son one day...” The words trailed off. “Never mind. It’s not a good day to talk of past or future. Let’s do as the snow bears do and live in the moment. Today, I have no past.”

If he has a son.
Scarlet’s mood plummeted.
The only way he’s going to get a son is if he marries Ressilka.

In the months since Liall had taken the throne, while the deep winter passed, there had been whispers of putting the Lady Ressilka forward as the future queen of Rshan. There had been no formal betrothal while Cestimir was alive, but everyone knew that if Cestimir had lived, Ressilka would have been his queen. So far, Scarlet had been able to ignore the gossip. Liall’s careful avoidance of the subject informed him that he wasn’t the only one getting an earful.

“No,” Scarlet said adamantly. “That’s no way to start thinking. I’m not a bear and neither are you.” Liall shot him a cryptic look but said nothing, and Scarlet wondered what it meant.

Scarlet tugged the fur collar of the cloak over his mouth as the wind began to draw tears from his eyes. “Tell me about one of these famous Lyran people,” he said, his voice muffled. “Start with the best one.”

Liall sidled his horse closer to Scarlet’s. “It’s a male name. Lyran was one of the last of the Druz. My family is actually two families who came together after a long war: the Camira and the Druz, hence my name. He was a great peacemaker, a wise king who brought a warring people together and saved them from destruction. They say Lyran had the look of the old Druz, as tall as an Ancient, with hair so white it held shades of blue and violet, and eyes bright as a candle flame.”

“Jochi has yellow eyes.”

“I would say more gold than yellow, but yes, he does. His bloodline is old.” Liall tugged at his long white bangs. His hair had grown past his shoulders in their months in Rshan. “Many of our women have some gold in their hair, but generally there is little variation in our coloring. Silver and blue: those are the colors of Rshan.”

“In banners and people both,” Scarlet quipped. “Except Ressilka. She has hair almost like a Morturii, but she’s taller than any Morturii man.”

Liall’s mouth turned down, and he nodded. “You’re not the first one to make note of that. Ressanda’s ancestor was Maksha, a mariner. Maksha was in love with a beautiful Morturii dancer, and when they had a child, he obtained the crown’s permission to bring both mother and child home with him. Maksha named his daughter Romaksha, after him, and she became a famous dancer in Rshan. Although she was a half-blooded commoner, she had no shortage of noble suitors vying for her hand. They said her hair fell to her ankles and was like a living flame.”