The Blind King (3 page)

K
ing Tyrol stood
at his map table studying the boundaries of his realm. During the last few
years, his figure had grown less muscular and more round, and the majority of
his gray hair had left his head. Peace did not sit well with him. It had aged
him and caused him to grow fat. He yearned for action to fill his days, as it
had in his youth. Conflict with Ra’jhou had given him vigor in those years, and
he lusted to feel so alive once more.

Prince Ivor strode
into his father’s study, a stern expression on his face. The king looked at his
son with a smirk.

“How was your
wedding night?” he asked.

“I did what was
necessary,” Ivor replied.

“She is beautiful,”
the king admitted. “I would think you would be pleased.”

“I have no desire
for that woman. She is my enemy.”

“Be that as it may,
the marriage was necessary,” Tyrol replied. “If we are to give Na’zora a sense
of security, we must play their little game of peace.”

“I fail to see the
point,” Ivor said. “It would be better to invade without involving a silly
girl.”

“That, my son, is
where you fail to understand the need for subtlety. Open war would only lead
Nilan to prepare an army of his own. Look at them now. Their defenses are weak,
their army is ill-equipped, and they have no allies to assist them. They truly
believe we are dedicated to keeping the peace.”

“Congratulations,
Father,” Ivor said with sarcasm.

“They have no idea
of my true plans,” the king said, anger rising in his voice. “You would do well
to learn a thing or two about your enemy. Why make an invasion harder than
necessary? We want to expand our borders, not sacrifice soldiers. With our
allies on the islands and our enemy complacent, we are assured a swift victory
with minimal cost.”

Ivor laughed.
“Minimal? Those elves are robbing you blind. You’re too consumed with your
plans to see it.”

Tyrol slammed his
fist against the table. “Those expenses are necessary! No one in N
ō
l’Deron could train our mages the way the elves can.
Without their training and potions, we would have no fire mages. That would be
unacceptable!”

Ivor shook his
head. “Our people have won victory for generations without the need of elves or
magic. You are taking the easy road.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”
the king asked. “This path leads to certain victory and a place of honor in the
annals of history.”

“We come to the
truth at last,” Ivor said with a grin. “My father wishes to be remembered as a
great war leader.”

“Naturally,” the
king admitted. “I will lead my army to victory, and you shall be at my side.”

“But when can we
strike?” Ivor asked, fire blazing in his eyes. All his life he had trained for
battle, but peace with Ra’jhou had prevented him from riding against them. Yes,
there had been petty skirmishes along the border, but outright war had escaped
him. Now, he would experience the thrill of riding into battle and facing his
enemy on a larger scale. His dream of fighting open war in the fields was about
to be a reality.

“Patience, my son,”
Ivor said. “We must be certain everything is prepared before we act. The time
will come, and it will be soon.” Under his breath, he added, “I’m not getting
any younger.”

“How much of
Ra’jhou will we be taking?” Ivor asked, despite knowing the answer.

“I won’t stop until
the entire realm is under my control,” Tyrol responded. “Nilan won’t be spared,
nor will any of his line. We can’t risk having sympathizers or false claims to
the throne. Perhaps I will let you see to this.”

Ivor smirked. “I’d
be delighted. Maybe I’ll start with the woman in my chambers.”

Tyrol waved
dismissively. “You may do what you wish with her once the war has begun. I care
not. For now, though, she must remain safe and in communication with her
family. They must believe she is well treated and content in her new home. We
can’t have Nilan thinking he needs to mount a rescue.” Tyrol laughed quietly at
the thought. He knew the Ra’jhouan army was substandard, and he intended to
exploit that weakness.

* * * * *

Aubriana stood on her balcony, staring out
over the sea. Her husband had visited her bed in the night, but there had been
no sign of romance. Without a word, he had performed his duties while she
fought back her tears. Her dreams of having a loving husband had been childish.
Reality came crashing down on her as he left her room. Their marriage was
doomed, and her future was uncertain. With luck, she would soon become pregnant
and give birth to a male heir, which might bring a smile to her husband’s face.
Perhaps then he would appreciate her.

“My lady,” Shala said as she approached the
princess. “Your ladies in waiting are here.”

“I haven’t chosen any,” Aubriana responded,
wrinkling her brow. With a sigh, she realized she would not be given a choice
in the matter. A queen of Ra’jhou would choose her own court, but the princess
of Na’zora would get what she was given. “Put a smile on your face, Shala,” she
said. “Let us have a cheerful first meeting.”

Holding her head high, Aubriana strode inside to
her sitting room. Seven young ladies dressed in blue satin curtsied before her.
“Welcome,” she said. “I hope to know each of you well, and I hope we may all
know friendship.” If her husband would not show her affection, she would
instead strive for companionship among these ladies. Perhaps some of them would
become true friends. It was her only chance for a happy life in her new
surroundings.

Shala handed Aubriana the embroidery she had
worked on in the carriage. It featured a bright red rose with deep green
leaves. The image gave Aubriana hope, and she smiled as she looked upon it. “I
would like my ladies to wear red roses pinned to their bodices,” she declared.
She may not have had a say in choosing her ladies, but she would tell them how
to dress and what duties to perform.

The ladies looked to one another and smiled.
Apparently, the princess’s first command had pleased them. They took their
places on cushions around Aubriana’s high-backed chair.

“Tell me stories of this land,” Aubriana said.
With a shy smile, she added, “Romantic ones.”

The ladies giggled at first, but one of them
finally spoke. “I will tell you the tale of a knight and the maiden who stole
his heart.”

Setting her embroidery aside, Aubriana leaned her
head on her hand. “I would love to hear it,” she said. Tales of love would have
to fill the void her unhappy marriage had created. Though the previous day had
brought nothing but disappointment, today brought her hope for the future.

F
our months
passed as Efren and Ryshel enjoyed the freedom that came along with their
marriage. Ryshel was delighted that her husband had proved to be a kind-hearted
man, and they frequently discussed everything from history to politics. Though
women in Ra’jhou were not typically expected to be educated beyond pleasing
their husbands, Efren had given Ryshel credit for her sharp mind. She had not
spent her formative years in frivolity. Learning about government and the lands
around her had been a favorite pastime. Those conversations with her husband
made her feel appreciated, not only as a woman but as an equal.

Efren had prospered as well these past few months.
Despite his father’s insistence that he would never learn to ride a horse,
Efren had done so with his wife at his side. Her affinity for riding had
sparked something inside him that he had never before considered. Upon hearing
her description of the freedom she felt on a horse, he knew he must try it.
Today, he sat atop a chestnut thoroughbred whose handlers had taught him to
follow a specific path. Normally, Ryshel would accompany him, but she had awoken
with some discomfort and insisted he go on ahead.

The songs of various birds filled his ears,
interrupted only by the footfalls of his horse. The air smelled of freedom as
he moved beneath the canopy of trees. Efren smiled to himself, glad that Ryshel
had suggested he learn to ride. She was convinced he could do anything a
sighted person could do, and he appreciated having her support.

As he neared the house, he heard his wife’s voice
in the distance. Though he could not make out the words, he could tell she was
excited. With a slight nudge, he asked the horse to walk faster.

“Welcome home,” Ryshel said as he approached.

Climbing down from the horse, he replied, “Are you
feeling better?”

With a laugh, she said, “I’m wonderful, simply
wonderful. I’m with child.” She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around
Efren.

Squeezing her tightly, he said, “A child?
Already?”

“You are pleased, are you not?” she asked,
slightly concerned. Though they were still newlyweds, she hoped the news would
please him.

“I’m overjoyed,” he responded, tears filling his
eyes. “I love you.” He took her in his arms once again and kissed her lips. “Is
there anything you need?”

“My maidservants will see to my needs,” she
replied, blushing slightly. “Though, I might invite my mother to stay for a
while. It would be a comfort to have her near.”

“Of course,” he replied. “Does this mean you won’t
be able to ride?”

“At least not until the baby is here,” she
replied. She knew it also meant a temporary reprieve from wearing corsets, and
the thought pleased her. Despite the morning sickness, she intended to enjoy
every moment of her pregnancy.

Returning inside the house, she decided to compose
a letter to Aubriana. There had been only one letter from the princess since
her wedding, and it had contained little information. Aubriana had simply
stated that she was well and hoping to fit in among Na’zora’s people. She had
not mentioned Prince Ivor in any fashion, leading Ryshel to worry for her
sister-in-law. Most brides would write at least a few words of their husband,
but Aubriana had remained silent on the subject. Perhaps news of Ryshel’s
pregnancy would bring her some cheer.

Dearest Aubriana,

I hope this letter finds you well and in good
spirits. Your brother and I have exciting news that we wish to share. I am with
child, and we are overjoyed. Life in the country has proved to suit both of us
well. There is never a dull day, and the weather has, for the most part, been
beautiful. I hope the Na’zoran climate is agreeing with you, and I hope you and
Prince Ivor are getting along well together. I would dearly love to see the
ocean and hope to visit you someday. You are always welcome here, my sister,
should you ever wish to return and stay awhile.

Much love,

Ryshel

Ryshel tapped the feathered end of her quill
against the writing desk as she stared out the window. Perhaps her letter was
too vague. Should she ask outright if the prince was cruel to Aubriana? Would
it be appropriate? The two had met only briefly, but Ryshel felt a strong bond
with her sister–in-law. Efren spoke of her often, as the two had been good
friends growing up. Though their paths had been quite different, they had
visited each other often, engaging in childish daydreams together. From Efren’s
descriptions, Ryshel knew Aubriana to have a kind spirit, and she hoped that
spirit was not being crushed. After all, the princess had no one but her maid
to remind her of her past. Her entire world had changed in an instant, and her
current situation was something of a mystery.

Leaving the letter on the desk, Ryshel rose and
approached the window. She had a clear view of the stables from this room, and
she observed as Efren handed the reins of his horse to the handler. His smile
was genuine as he turned and headed back to the house. Ryshel herself had
overseen the servants as they installed various posts with bits of twine
between them. Efren could navigate a large portion of the grounds with ease,
unaided by a servant. His lack of freedom within the castle had been a sort of
punishment. Here was a man wholly capable of moving about on his own, but he
had been locked away at his father’s insistence.
Never again,
Ryshel
thought.
He is free now, and the king’s wishes are irrelevant.

Ryshel laid her hands over her belly and closed
her eyes as the sun’s rays warmed her face. Returning to her desk, she folded
the letter and sealed it with red wax. If Aubriana’s next letter was too vague,
Ryshel would write again with less subtlety. Her own marriage was full of joy,
and she would do anything in her power to ensure the same happiness for her
sister.

T
he sun shone
brightly in the autumn sky as Efren and Ryshel sat in their garden having tea.
The air of the countryside was fresh and clean, filling their lungs with its
purity
. Ryshel read aloud a tale of adventure in a land of magic, while
Efren imagined what it must be like to cast such powerful spells. Often, he
would interrupt her reading with a question she could not answer.

“Does mage lightning leave behind a scent? Surely
it burns all it touches,” he commented.

With a laugh, Ryshel replied, “I’m afraid I can’t
answer that one either.”

“What it must be like to be a sorcerer,” he said.
Sitting forward he asked, “Have you ever met one?”

“No,” she replied. “For that matter, I’ve never
met an elf.”

“It isn’t only elves who can wield magic,” he
replied. “Humans are capable as well.”

“I’ve never met such a person,” she said. With
mischief in her voice, she asked, “Or have I?”

Efren laughed. “If you’re referring to me, then I
must disappoint you. Had I the opportunity to learn, though, I would gladly
take it.”

“Perhaps you should write to the elves of the
islands,” she suggested. “They might send a tutor.”

“For myself, they would decline,” he said. “I’ve read
of their teachings, and one must start training at a young age in order to
unlock the power inside. It is said a human must be born with certain abilities,
which I lack.”

“Perhaps for the baby,” Ryshel replied.

Efren laughed. “Perhaps.”

In a more serious tone, she asked, “Is it your
lack of vision that precludes you from learning?”

“I could not say,” he replied. “All I’ve read is
that there are specific signs that can be detected only by a master sorcerer.
There are none of those in Ra’jhou.”

“Let’s send for one after our child is born,” she
said. Though she did not truly believe her child was destined to be a sorcerer,
she wanted to give her husband the chance to meet one. It would bring him joy,
and that was reason enough for her.

“Please continue the story,” Efren said. “Forgive
me for interrupting so often.”

Ryshel turned back to her book and began reading
once more. As the story progressed, Efren shifted excitedly in his seat,
suppressing the urge to cut in at key points. Finally, Ryshel stopped to allow
a few moments of discussion.

“I can see you’re bursting to speak,” she said.
“Go ahead.”

Before Efren could speak, a servant approached and
interrupted them. “My lord, there is a visitor from the court.” The servant
bowed before taking his leave, and another young man approached.

Ryshel set aside the book she was reading and
observed the young man’s expression. It was plain that the news was not good.
His eyes were downturned, his posture defeated. Clearly, something terrible had
occurred. Her mind immediately went to thoughts of war with Na’zora. There had
been little word from their king since Aubriana’s marriage. Perhaps she had not
been a high enough price to avoid an invasion.

Bowing, the servant said, “Your Highness, I come
bearing sad news. The king took ill three days ago and died just this past
night.”

Startled, Efren bolted forward in his chair where
he had been relaxing. “What illness?” he asked. “Is the queen in good health?
And Gannon?”

Ryshel took his hand and squeezed it, hoping the
answers to his questions would bring better news.

“They are well, Your Highness,” the servant
replied. “Prince Gannon is preparing for coronation tomorrow morning. The
sickness that took the king is not known. He was racked with fever and
convulsions. I regret to say his passing was not a peaceful one.”

Efren’s eyes filled with tears. The king had been
a poor excuse for a father where he was concerned. He had lavished attention on
Gannon, but he rarely had anything to do with Efren. Since Nilan saw his son as
broken, Efren had not been considered worthy of the king’s affection. They came
together only during court functions despite having lived in the same castle
for more than twenty years. He could not recall his father ever visiting him in
his chambers or saying a kind word. Their meetings were always out of necessity
and never out of fatherly concern.

“I am so sorry,” Ryshel said, kissing him softly
on the cheek. She was aware of their lack of a relationship, but she could see
that her husband was upset.

“We will have to return to court for a while,” he
declared, allowing his tears to fall. “Gannon will expect us at the
coronation.” As a prince, he knew his duty. Sorrow was no excuse to be absent
from court functions. His father’s funeral would be swift, and he was
determined to attend. Perhaps he could be of some comfort to his mother. Surely
she would have reason to mourn the king, even if his son did not.

Ryshel raised a hand to summon her maidservant.
“See that our things are prepared for a trip to the castle. We’ll need clothes
suitable for a coronation and also garments of black. Tell the groomsman to
prepare our carriage.” She spoke softly, hoping not to trouble her husband
further. “Should I write to Aubriana?” News of her father’s death might come
softer if it came from a trusted friend.

“Gannon will see that she’s informed,” Efren
replied. His eyes still glistened, but the tears no longer fell. Any hope of
proving himself worthy of the king’s love had died years ago, but his regret
still lingered. Taking in a deep breath to compose himself, he vowed to be a
better father to his children than King Nilan had been to him.

Ryshel stood, taking her husband’s arm as they
walked back inside their home. “Will you be all right?” she asked, concerned.

“Of course,” he replied, nodding. “I did not
expect to lose him so suddenly, and it pains me that he is gone. He was my
king, after all.” As a subject of the king, he was required to love him. As a
son, he felt only regret.