Family is such a treacherous thing. None of us ever ask to be born, nor what family we wish to be born into. Once we realize the impact a family can have on a person, we can look to the stars and wish that we were part of another, pining for a group of people who understand us as we are, if we are so unlucky to have a family that does not.
There are times that I’ve been jealous of you, hearing about your brother and sister so heavily involved in your life. I can say without a doubt that my parents loved me, even if they’re with the ancestors now, but I still wish I could meet with them. Sit with them. Eat with them, like you can. Things you can do with your family.
But now, with everything in perspective, I wonder what you would do, if given the opportunity to exchange places with me. I wouldn’t fault you for taking it. This place is a prison of its own kind, and your family are its wardens.
It was so difficult to focus on anything but the note.
If you value your life, stop asking questions.
Was it a death threat? Was it a bluff? Was he supposed to recognize that handwriting? What if it was a ploy, to get him to think someone else was watching him?
“Master Brexothuruk,” a voice said, shaking him back to reality.
Okeer sat across from him, holding a piece of paper in his hands.
“I know you’re not exactly engaged by the material, but these are the lessons that fit your placement results.” He gestured to the worksheets that he’d prepared. Dozens of spells with a glyph or two missing, asking the student to fill in the correct answer.
“Right, sorry,” Brex said. “I just have a lot on my mind right now.”
Okeer folded his hands together. “Well I hope you can make room in your head for these, because frankly, I could be resuming my own studies instead of tolerating this.”
Brex perked up. “Oh? What do you study?” His tutor frowned.
“I’m not going to reward your curiosity until you respect my time, Master Brexothuruk.”
Brex sighed. “I…I promise I’ll be more focused.”
Okeer tapped a finger on the worksheet before Brex.
4. Fill in the following gaps to enchant a catalyst with a spell for purifying food and drink.
Subtract-(blank)-(blank)-Preserve-(blank)-Edibility
Brex looked down and thought through the puzzle.
“Subtract-Toxicity-Decay-Preserve-Nutrition-Edibility,” he said.
“Acceptable,” Okeer said. “You could use Rot instead of Decay there. It’d have broader applications but Decay would finish the job. What would you use as the catalyst?”
Brex bit his lip. “I think…If I could make it big enough, either a bowl or a basin. Something you can fill with water and dip the food into.”
“Good,” Okeer said, satisfied. “I used to study the application of catalysts as…permanent fixtures to a bipedal body.”
“Fixtures?” Brex asked, curiosity alight once more.
“My first proposals were for veterans, people who had lost limbs as a result of the Pride Wars. Using sorcery to build artificial extensions of their arms and legs to help them find balance or utility in their lives that they had once lost. But that proved to be difficult. Relying on a catalyst at all times was too great a drain on their Resource.”
“Were you able to—” Brex began, but Okeer cut him off with another tap of the finger.
5. Fill in the following gaps to enchant a catalyst with a spell for timekeeping.
Progress-(blank)-Alongside-(blank)-Continue-(blank)
Brex racked his mind again until he deduced the solution.
“Progress-Mechanism-Alongside-Seconds-Continue-Endless.”
“And where would you use such a spell?”
“In a timepiece,” Brex said. “Like a wristwatch.”
“Correct, it would need a connection to someone’s Resource to keep accurate time.”
“What about the clock tower in Harramschall?” Brex asked.
“That clock tower has many more glyphs turning its hands,” Okeer said. “I didn’t have many opportunities to test my theories, but mostly because they were very costly experiments with few volunteers. I hope someday I can convince the crown to award me another grant to continue my research. And teaching people like you how to use sorcery is one of many ways to gather the favor of the throne.”
“Have you asked Alizarin about his…” Brex trailed off, unsure how to broach the topic of Alizarin’s forced catalyst.
“His back?” Okeer asked. “I have not. I don’t think I can risk asking the Prince to bare his body just so I can examine it, fascinating though it may be.”
“Why not?”
“The crown fills my coinpurse, Master Brex. I’m old enough to know not to cause trouble when money is about to change hands. I consider myself fortunate to have been traveling when the disappearance happened, or I’m sure I would have been questioned about it for days. And truthfully, I’m not sure if I want to learn about what role sorcery played in his disappearance.”
“You don’t?”
He shook his head. “From what I understand, it must have been a very clumsy application. I can only hope he wasn’t conscious when it was applied.”
Brex leaned forward, paying close attention. Okeer had no idea how useful he had just become to Brex’s little investigation.
“It would need to be a rather soft metal, so that it could be flexible enough for the kind of movement I’ve seen him perform. There are very few materials that both allow for sorcery and that level of flexibility, so it would be expensive. I imagine it would also need to be applied in a thin layer on the skin, just barely above melting point, so that it attaches properly to the skin, but there would be damage. I don’t think any sorcerer in his right mind would be willing to administer such a catalyst permanently onto someone, even if they consented.”
Brex kept quiet, never really considering the horror of what had been done to Alizarin until that moment. But it only galvanized his desire for answers—someone was responsible for this and he couldn’t live without knowing who it was.
“I apologize, perhaps that subject matter was too heavy for a lesson,” Okeer said.
“No, no,” Brex said. “It was interesting, maybe a little morbid, but still.”
Okeer furrowed his brow. “Well, in any case, that’s enough for today.” He started gathering the worksheets, leaving the one in front of Brex where it was. “For now, please take the time to do your assigned reading and finish your worksheets.”
“Actually, I just had an idea,” Brex said. “I think, ah, something that might help me connect with these lessons would be to get some Loquela wood so I could carve my own enchanting plate. I’m sure the Prince would be fine spending the money for some, I know it’s expensive.”
And then he could send that to Liam and Elaina. Fulfill his end of the bargain.
Maybe have an excuse to visit.
An excuse to stay.
“Not a bad idea,” Okeer said. “I’ll mention it to Oswin. If he approves, I’ll draft up an invoice and you should have it in a few days’ time.”
“Excellent!” Brex said, failing to stifle his joy.
Okeer flipped the clasp on his bag and set it on the table. “Master Brexothuruk, I normally hesitate to use the word ‘talent’ when speaking of students. But I do think you have a natural inclination toward sorcery. I encourage you to continue your studies.”
Brex furrowed his brow. “What makes you think I won’t continue?”
“Comfort makes people complacent. Complacency stifles growth. Even if you do someday become the court sorcerer, I doubt there will be much challenge to it. Truthfully, I think you could already accomplish any task the throne may ask of you. But that’s due more to a lack of imagination on their part than a lack of skill on yours.”
“Oh,” Brex said.
“But as long as you wish to continue the lessons, I will continue to instruct you. And the money certainly helps,” he said with a gentle smile.
There came a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Brex said.
Just as Okeer moved to leave, Oswin entered the room, holding it open for the tutor.
“Ah, Oswin!” Okeer said. “I was just about to send you a message. Can we subsidize the cost for a small block of Loquela lumber as part of Brex’s lessons?”
“Most assuredly,” Oswin said in his natural tenor, his stoic tone grounding his words. “I’ll notify my contact in Goronich to add it to our next shipment of imports. It’ll arrive before the week’s end.”
“Excellent. Resourceful as ever, Oswin.”
Oswin simply bowed his head as Okeer left the room. He closed the door and turned to face Brex, as if he were an automaton, moving like clockwork.
“After speaking with her handmaiden, Her Highness Queen Cerise has chosen to accept your request for an audience.”
Brex’s stomach dropped to the floor. “She…she accepted?”
“Correct. I will escort you to the third floor balcony, where she is currently reviewing legislation and trade agreements with her afternoon coffee.”
Now? As in, this moment?
“W-wait, I-I need more time to prepare. I haven’t finished writing my notes about what to ask her.”
Oswin reached into his vest and pulled out an immaculate pocketwatch, opening it with a snap. Brex could just barely hear it ticking rapidly.
“Her Majesty will not abide tardiness, but she’ll understand your necessary preparations. We can spare you ten minutes, otherwise I will regret to inform her that your audience could not be granted.”
Ten minutes?!
“Y-yes, that’s fine, thank you.”
“Very well. I’ll return when the time is right.”
Oswin left the room with his typical graceful movements.
Shit!
Shit, shit shit!
Brex scrambled to get his notes, looking over the questions he’d already listed out.
1. Can you describe what you saw the night Alizarin disappeared?
2.
Brex ran his fingers through his hair.
SHIT.
He needed help, now. He grabbed his enchanting plate, which he had thankfully left a nearly-finished version of his new favorite spell for “personal growth.” Brex clenched his fists, reaching into his mind for the most helpful person he knew for this moment.
And the answer came to him like a punch in the gut.
Kotak.
Kotak was the only person he knew well enough to imagine properly—that also spent any amount of time around other leaders, even if they were orcish clan leaders instead of Felarin royalty.
Brex etched the final glyph into his enchanting plate, trying to focus on Kotak, but his anxious mind couldn’t help slipping in a few thoughts of the Queen. But that wouldn’t be a problem, he barely knew what she looked like. He’d spent years growing up alongside Kotak. His image was clear as glass.
The plate crackled with light and seeped into the ring he used as a catalyst.
With a deep breath, he put it on.
Kotak appeared before his eyes, wearing the same chieftain’s cloak that Brex saw him offer up on the day he left the clan.
“You really think I’m going to help you? After what you did?”
Brex took a step back, his heart racing.
“But…you’re not…” he said. “It’s just sorcery that’s supposed to—”
“You made a fool out of me in front of everyone. I tried to do the right thing and give you the cloak, but you refused and wandered off on your own. Do you have any idea how difficult it was to win back the trust of the elders?” Kotak scoffed. “Of course not, you were never there for any of that. You only thought about yourself.”
“Myself?” Brex asked. “N-no, there wasn’t anything left for me back there. Even Tiyash thought—”
“She understood why you left, but she didn’t want it,” Kotak said.
“She had other friends and family, I had nothing!”
“You were her closest, and you left her behind, just like the rest of us.”
“None of you even wanted me to come back from my rites!” Brex shouted.
“You never wanted to be an adult,” Kotak said with a hiss, stepping closer. “You wanted to be a child, coddled by your grandfather as long as you could take advantage of it. Reading every book we would let you get your hands on, refusing to take part in clan duties, enjoying the luxury of being cared for by every adult in the clan.”
“No, I-I was never going to be any good as a hunter or a warrior.”
“You simple-minded fool,” Kotak said. “You think we would be so ruthless? That there were no other places you could be of value? You could have helped prepare food. Plan celebrations. We could have let you be a keeper of knowledge. But you never wanted to be anything but a child.”
Brex backed into the wall as Kotak grew closer, trapping him next to his studying table. There was a shimmer of light through the window, illuminating Kotak’s frame as it began to shift. A tragically familiar silhouette.
Alizarin scowled at him.
“And here you are,” he said, his normally jovial voice now dripping with malice. “Comfortable up at the top of your tower while servants bring you food and drink. While I do the important work of diplomacy, you’re hiding up here and reading the same books, over and over again. Nothing has changed. You’ve just swindled a different person into taking care of you.”
“No! I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“You’ve never protested. Not once. You’re going to be here forever until you die at my side, old and decayed, a pile of useless thoughts that never bothered to do anything with himself, too eager to indulge in his own happiness that he didn’t notice his life was slipping away. Is it any wonder you keep falling in love with born leaders? People like me who will pull you along when you don’t feel like forging your own path.”
“STOP!”
“Do you even love me, Brexothuruk, gor-sha of Clan Ironheart? Or do you love what I could have been, just enough to tolerate all this lavish pleasure that I shower on you?”
Alizarin leaned closer, his muzzle next to Brex’s ear, the warmth of his breath spreading across Brex’s cheek.
“You’re afraid to leave because you know what it’ll do to me. You’re afraid to stay because you know this is all you’ll ever be.”
Brex looked over toward his studying table, then grabbed a chair with one hand and slammed it toward Alizarin.
It went right through him and slipped out of Brex’s grasp, the force of his accidental throw causing the backrest to break free from the seat.
It was a spell. It was all still a spell.
Before Alizarin could speak, Brex pulled the ring off his finger. The image of Alizarin disappeared in a flash and Brex collapsed to the ground, heaving his breath.
It wasn’t real. It was just a spell. That’s not what he thinks. That’s not what I’ll be. It’s not…It’s not…It’s not anything.
He brought himself to his hands and knees, at last starting to recover. His eyes fell on the ring, which had landed on its edge, balancing for a few seconds before a gentle breeze through the room knocked it back on its side.
“Was all of that inside me?” Brex said, as if to ask the ring itself.
There was no response.
Do I have that much fear in my heart?
The question hung in the air, stinging like smoke in his eyes. The silence did nothing to comfort him, only breaking when there came another knock at the door. Oswin’s voice, muffled gently, called for him.
“Are you prepared, Master Brexothuruk?”
Brex picked up the ring and held it in his palm. He wanted to be honest and admit the truth to Oswin. He wanted to run far, far away from this castle, from everything and everyone he ever knew. But it would catch up to him eventually.
“Yes, Oswin,” Brex said, his voice unsteady. “Just a moment.”
He set the ring aside and gathered his notes to depart with Oswin.
Oswin kept a quick pace while leading Brex through Castle Carmine. Every time Brex walked those halls, they seemed more foreign, their organization and alignment difficult to fully understand. But Oswin clearly had every inch memorized, never wavering in his confident stride until they reached a wooden door with ornate golden trim.
Oswin rapped his gloved knuckles on the door.
“You may enter,” came the reply in a dry voice.
Oswin led Brex through the doorway, which opened onto a massive balcony atop the entire eastern wing of the castle. There were tables and chairs set but unadorned, waiting for their moment to shine with place settings and tablecloths.
Queen Cerise sat at one table with a stack of yellowing papers next to her, facing the view of the city that had become so familiar to Brex by then. A wider view than the one out his window, for sure, but the same nonetheless. He started to wonder if this was how the royal family saw their city. Their nation, even. Citizens so distant as to be unrecognizable, like insects zigzagging their way between the clutter of the streets.
Oswin cut off his line of thinking with a raised whisper. Loud enough for Cerise to hear, but meant specifically for Brex. “You may address the Queen as ‘your majesty’ or ‘your highness.’ Do not cross your arms or legs in her majesty’s presence. I wish you luck in your endeavors, Master Brexothuruk.”
And with that, Oswin smoothly shut the door with barely the sound of the doorknob turning.
Without looking back, Cerise motioned to the seat across the table from her, the chair facing the view of the city. “You may have a seat.”
Brex tried to keep himself together as he walked over to take his seat.
“Thank you for taking the time to speak with me, your majesty,” he said, still trying to get the quivering tone out of his voice. His vision of Alizarin and Kotak still lingered in his mind.
You’re afraid to leave because you know what it’ll do to me. You’re afraid to stay because you know this is all you’ll ever be.
“I understand you have some curiosities to abate. Is that correct, Master Brexothuruk?”
The Queen of the United Felarin Pride-Tribes was a tall, lean woman with absolutely perfect posture. Back straight, eyes forward, legs tucked just underneath her chair. Even the way she gripped the handle of her teacup and lifted it to her lips felt perfectly practiced.
“Yes, if it pleases you,” Brex said. “And you may call me just Brex, if you like.”
“Very well, Brex. What do you wish to know?”
Brex looked down at his notes.
1. Can you describe what you saw the night Alizarin disappeared?
2. Kotak
“As you know,” he began. “I spent a lot of time traveling with Prince Alizarin before we arrived, and I’ve started to feel a little protective of him—”
While I do the important work of diplomacy, you’re hiding up here and reading the same books, over and over again.
“—And with his account of what happened the night he disappeared, I just wanted to get as much information as I could.”
Nothing has changed. You’ve just swindled a different partner into taking care of you.
“To make sure he’s safe,” Brex continued. “That we’re all safe.”
You’re going to be here forever until you die at my side, old and decayed, a pile of useless thoughts that never bothered to do anything with himself.
“Sympathetic motivations, surely,” said Cerise.
“So, your majesty, I was hoping you could share what you remember of the night Alizarin disappeared.”
“Certainly,” she said, setting her teacup aside and turning to face Brex. It was the first time she’d looked at him directly. It felt as though she could see past his skin and tissue, into his very soul. “I can repeat my account of the night my son disappeared.
“I take it that you already know we were celebrating the anniversary of my husband’s birth. He was in poor health at the time and I suspected a modest celebration would lift his spirits, perhaps enough to help him recover. Alizarin brought along an acquaintance, and there was a small deluge of pettiness from the rest of us. Nothing threatening, just enough to let Alizarin know that such behavior would not be tolerated for much longer. In retrospect, I do wish I’d been kinder with my words, but I can’t change what I said that night.
“After dinner had ended, my husband asked to speak in private with Alizarin after asking Claret to bring some drinks for them. I retired to the bedroom immediately after dinner.”
She paused, lacing her fingers together on the table.
“So, the last time you saw Alizarin before we returned together was at dinner?” Brex asked.
She nodded. “That’s correct. I was reading by candlelight in bed until Crim returned to our chambers. He expressed some concern over Alizarin as his future heir and told me that he wished there was something we could do to help Alizarin understand the burden he would someday bear.”
Brex copied down as much of her words as he could. “Was, er, his majesty concerned about Alizarin’s habits, specifically?”
“Undoubtedly. We all were. But he expressed a particular worry about his legacy. Whether Alizarin would carry the virtues that he valued or chart his own path, potentially to disaster. Not just for himself, but for the future of Sangara and the nation as a whole.”
“I see. Thank you for sharing that.”
“Much obliged. Regardless, after easing some of my husband’s worries, I suggested that we get our rest. I put out the lights and went to sleep with Crim at my side. During the night, someone sounded the alarm, which caused both of us to awaken. I saw the guards scrambling in the courtyards to prepare against an intruder, so I went to my nightstand and slid a catalyst with a flame spell onto my hand, in case anyone came up to our chambers to attack.
“Fortunately, though I stood at the ready for several minutes, the first person to arrive was Claret, who was checking to ensure our safety. After that, she left once more to find Alizarin and Rufus, but she returned with the dreadful news that Alizarin had disappeared from his bed.”
The Queen was motionless and silent for a moment, then closed her eyes to take a slow breath.
“As soon as we confirmed the intruder was no longer on the castle grounds, my husband ordered half the castle militia to search Sangara for Alizarin and the majority of our scholars to search travel records for anyone matching his description.”
“As I understand,” Brex said. “They didn’t find anything of use.”
“That’s right. My husband’s condition worsened shortly after and some members of the public were upset at the idea that Claret could have somehow been behind a plot. So she abdicated her claim to the throne, if the worst was to happen. That may have been the decision that saved my husband’s life, depending on who you ask. After that, Crim’s health began to recover and he was able to resume his duties as the nation’s King.”
“I see,” Brex said. “Thank you again, your majesty.” He started to worry if he was overdoing it on the gratitude and etiquette. But in the presence of a literal Queen, it seemed worthwhile.
“Is there anything else you’d like to know?”
Brex looked back at his empty list of questions and held back a sigh.
“No, I think that’s enough. I hope your reading out here is treating you well,” he said, gesturing to the stack of paper on the table.
“It’s dry, by necessity. Better not to let purple prose infect the phrasing of laws.”
“May I ask what you’re reviewing, your majesty?”
“Regulations for importing sorcerous catalysts,” Queen Cerise said. “Some of our highest imports by volume and price. Necessary, though, given the advantage sorcery gives us, especially with regards to other cities and nations.”
“Nations? Are these catalysts for a particular purpose?” Brex asked. He didn’t want to say it out loud—the idea that they were for war or violence.
“General use,” she said. “Many of them will be dedicated toward public utilities, not unlike Harramschall. But few of our citizens know the true mechanics of sorcery. They’re only familiar with its interfaces. What to touch, how to use certain objects, and so forth.”
“You could teach them,” Brex said. “Build a university, like Harramschall’s.”
Then maybe I could stay for a good reason.
“Perhaps, in time. It may not look like it to you, but we are still rebuilding after the Pride Wars. Just beyond the hills, you’ll find the remnants of our old settlements. Sangara was lucky that it never faced a major battle, and thus why we chose it for the castle’s location. Along with the port, naturally.
“But until we have the resources to build a university of our own, then I’m fine with monitoring imports. It’s given me a working knowledge of the practice. Not nearly on the same level as someone like Okeer. But enough to evaluate anyone who could serve as our potential university’s headmaster.”
“Headmaster?” Brex asked.
“Yes. Royalty is to a nation as a headmaster is to an educational institution. Leadership, which will be necessary for an undertaking of that size.”
Brex remained silent, turning his gaze back toward the city again. He could just barely pick out the rooftop that Alizarin pointed to him the other night.
“Tell me of your experience with leadership, Brex,” Cerise said without turning away from the same view.
Brex found himself swallowing back some fear.
“I was the son of a clan elder, who was probably going to become chief.” He hesitated, but pushed onward. “But my parents were both killed by human bandits.”
“So,” Cerise said, grasping her teacup and bringing it to her lips. “No practical experience, then.” She took a sip.
“No, not in the truest sense. But I’ve seen both good and bad examples of leadership.”
“Then tell me a good example.”
“My grandfather,” Brex said without hesitating. “He put the care of his people before anything else. He was well-loved by our clan, especially by the more vulnerable members of our families.”
“And why must the vulnerable orcs take priority over the others?”
“It’s a matter of principle,” Brex said. “If we can’t take care of our most vulnerable peers, what separates us from ruthless animals?”
It was a phrase that Brex had heard before. Perhaps in the mess of his rites, which felt like so long ago. Everything before Sangara was a lifetime away, when he was a different person.
But he hadn’t considered his audience.
“What separates us, indeed. And what of your bad example, Brex?”
Maybe there was a bit of a chill in his heart, because there was only one proper instance he could think to share. Inspired by his visions mere minutes before.
“I knew a chief who sent out a child for his rites too early, without time to properly prepare.”
“Seems unwise. What kind of rites did your clan have?”
“Oh. Er. We each had to…kill a wild lion and return to the clan with its hide.”
“As evidence, I see. And what do you know of the behavior of wild lions, Brex?”
Her tone had grown more sinister in ways that Brex had trouble describing. Cerise wasn’t exactly genial before then, but now she was commanding the conversation, directing Brex down a dangerous path.
“Not very much. I wasn’t a hunter so I didn’t pay much attention to animals.”
“The males will kill their own children if any of them threaten to usurp his position as leader of their pride. The females do most of the hunting, providing for their families as necessary, given that the men won’t bother with it.”
Brex paused. Was she saying what he thought she was saying?
“Does that mean—”
“It’s good that we felarin are above such things,” she said, cutting him off. “We would never do anything so drastic to each other. We are civilized, after all. It was not too long ago that we had a society not unlike the orcs, nomadic and roaming across the land. A shame it took something as tragic as the Pride Wars to show us there was a better path.”
Brex kept silent as she continued.
“The King is a good man. If there were any discord in our family, we would resolve it ourselves. Talk out our problems. And if someone were beyond help, we would do whatever we can to ensure their safety.”
“Your majesty,” Brex said. “Are you saying that—”
“I’m saying that I appreciate you bringing my son back home safely, perhaps even helping him become a better man. But I do not appreciate your accusations of my family.”
“Accusations? Please, I–”
“Master Brexothuruk, do you really think me unaware of your interrogations of my children? Do you think that my ears are deaf to the rest of my family? And you, a stranger to our home, poke and prod at our lives under the guise of protection and safety, having us cast suspicion upon each other. No, I will not stand for such things.”
“But do you really think everyone is safe, when the person responsible for his disappearance has yet to be found?” Brex nearly pleaded.
“The individual responsible has not been found in years. There has been plenty of opportunity for regret to seep into their heart. We have nothing left to fear of them.”
She took another sip from her teacup.
“You would do well to focus on your studies, Brex,” she said before setting the cup and saucer on the table and pulled another stack of paper into her lap.
Brex kept quiet, eyes down at his hands. He hadn’t taken a single stroke of notes the whole time.
“Do you love him, Brexothuruk?” Cerise asked.
“What do you mean?”
“My son, Alizarin. Do you love him?”
He’d been backed into a corner. “I…I do.”
“You don’t sound convinced,” Cerise said.
“I have a hard time being sure about anything,” Brex said.
“Conviction is a necessary trait of a leader. If you intend to continue staying here in Castle Carmine with Prince Alizarin, I suggest you unearth it within yourself, if there is any left to find.”
Brex wished for something, anything, to take him far away from here, in this rotten moment with this woman who had read him as easily as the shelves of books in his chambers.
Graciously, he was given the exit he craved.
“If there is nothing else to discuss, you may leave. I understand that you’ll be receiving a block of loquela lumber in our next shipment. I hope you put it to good use.”
Brex closed his notebook and pulled it into his lap. “Thank you for your time, your majesty,” he said, then stood up and left the table.
Oswin opened the door as he approached and accompanied him all the way back to his chambers, where he left Brex to sit on the edge of the bed.
Alone with his thoughts, each of whom had nothing positive to share.
The next few days blurred together, with the shadow of the Queen’s words sticking to Brex like sap.
Each night, as Alizarin returned to their chambers to sleep alongside Brex, he would offer a summary of the day. Days that never included Brex himself. Meetings with diplomats, discussions with scholars, briefings from advisors.
And, at last, Alizarin admitted to enjoying it. They had only returned a fortnight before, and it seemed as though Alizarin had finally caught up with the rest of his family. He was eager to shape the future into something bright and joyful for his people.
But Brex was never there for that. He was only present at the end of the day, when Alizarin was tired and eager for rest. Half of his mornings he woke to an empty bed. If he was lucky, a kiss on the cheek before the sound of the door closing.
Brex was experiencing his entire world through Alizarin’s daily summaries and the books he was permitted to read.
His chambers in Castle Carmine were undoubtedly more spacious and comfortable than his tent back at Clan Ironheart. But in practice, the routine grew familiar all too quickly.
Even when his block of loquela lumber arrived, it failed to bring a smile to his face.
The next few days blurred together, with the shadow of the Queen’s words sticking to Brex like sap.
Each night, as Alizarin returned to their chambers to sleep alongside Brex, he would offer a summary of the day. Days that never included Brex himself. Meetings with diplomats, discussions with scholars, briefings from advisors.
And, at last, Alizarin admitted to enjoying it. They had only returned a fortnight before, and it seemed as though Alizarin had finally caught up with the rest of his family. He was eager to shape the future into something bright and joyful for his people.
But Brex was never there for that. He was only present at the end of the day, when Alizarin was tired and eager for rest. Half of his mornings he woke to an empty bed. If he was lucky, a kiss on the cheek before the sound of the door closing.
Brex was experiencing his entire world through Alizarin’s daily summaries and the books he was permitted to read.
His chambers in Castle Carmine were undoubtedly more spacious and comfortable than his tent back at Clan Ironheart. But in practice, the routine grew familiar all too quickly.
Even when his block of loquela lumber arrived, it failed to bring a smile to his face.
In the afternoon of his seventeenth day in Castle Carmine, Brex flipped his chalkboard over. His eyes searched through all the notes that he’d collected about Alizarin’s disappearance. He held the brush for erasing them all tight in his hand.
If he did this, it would be tantamount to committing to his life here in Sangara. He’d be accepting that this is where he wanted to be, where he should be, where he felt he needed to be.
Keeping these notes was a risk. The wrong person walking in and finding them could mean disaster for him, for Alizarin, for any number of innocent people who lived and worked in the castle. If the person responsible found out that he was still trying…
“They know already.”
Brex whipped himself around to find the source of that voice.
Karna sat at his studying table, both hands on her jaw, elbows on the table.
“You got the note that said to stop asking questions,” she said. “They already know you’re onto them.”
Brex glanced down at his hand. A golden ring around his finger. He must have left that illusion spell on by accident.
But he couldn’t help engaging with the line of thought.
“That’s not necessarily true,” he said. “Anybody could have sent that note, not the traitor.”
“‘If you value your life?’ That’s a threat,” Karna said as she leaned back in her chair, kicking up her boots onto the table.
“It could mean my life as it is now. That I wouldn’t be able to stay here in the castle.”
“Yeah? Then why send it as an anonymous note when they knew you weren’t here? You spend almost all of your time up here and the note shows up the one evening you’re not. They knew. Which means they didn’t want you to see who dropped it off.”
She had a point. But it wasn’t without flaws.
“Even so, it’s probably just a power play. They don’t want me accusing any of them of threatening me. Cerise just said she didn’t want anything to endanger their unity.”
“But she had no problem flexing that political muscle on you in person. And she even waited until you came to her. The one who sent the note has a lot more to lose.”
“It could have been Claret or Rufus, or one of the attendants,” Brex said. “Just trying to offer me advice.”
“It could. But why write like that? That’s clearly someone trying to blackmail you into silence now. Didn’t they both say they’d want to know who was responsible to your face?”
Brex couldn’t recall the exact conversations they had, but it sounded reasonable, and he couldn’t find any evidence to the contrary. “Sure, fine, let’s say hypothetically it’s the traitor. They don’t want me to dig up their shameful secret. Isn’t that the point? They want to move past it. Alizarin wants to move past it too. Maybe I’m just making things worse.”
“Or maybe you’re close to the truth and they’re trying to break you.”
“I’ve talked to four out of five members of the royal family and I still have no idea who it could be. Shouldn’t I have enough information to at least find something pointing toward one of them?”
“Shouldn’t you?” Karna asked. “You should know, of all people, how one detail can put things into perspective. Sometimes you just have to keep digging until you can find that one golden discovery.”
Brex sighed. “All right, fine. One more time. But if we don’t get that epiphany, I’m erasing all of this.”
Karna grinned and gestured for him to continue.
Brex stared at the chalkboard covered in scribbles and diagrams.
One last time.
He picked up a piece of chalk and pressed it next to Claret’s name.
“Claret. She was in the room when Alizarin and King Crim had their discussion.”
“Argument.”
“Whatever they want to call it,” Brex said. “She brought them drinks.”
“Which means she could have poisoned Alizarin,” Karna said.
Brex pursed his lips into a frown. “But she brought both him and the King their drinks. And she didn’t stay long enough to hear much about the argument, so how could she make sure that Alizarin drank the right glass?”
“Why not just poison them both?”
“King Crim’s health was failing at the time,” Brex said. “If she gave him a poisoned glass, then he wouldn’t have survived the night. Even a sedative can be lethal if given to someone who’s gravely ill. It’s too great a risk. And he’s recovered since then, so I find it hard to believe King Crim had any poison in his body that night.”
“Maybe she got lucky, poisoned the right family member. Sometimes people are lucky, even if they don’t deserve it.”
“But then it comes back to her motivations and the amount of risk. She poisons the drink, but if her father dies, it’s Alizarin on the throne, which nobody wants. After Alizarin disappears, she’s next in line for succession, and she even abdicated her right to the throne afterward.”
“It’s a reasonable excuse. But it’s something she could have come up with after the fact. If she’s the traitor, she might be lying to you. Who can corroborate her story?”
Brex racked his mind for the answer. “The Queen mentioned that she saw Claret twice that night after the alarm had been rung. Once to check in on her parents, then another time to inform them that Alizarin was missing.”
“That’s a lot of running around the castle,” Karna said. “And let’s not forget, she’d need some cooperation to help get Alizarin out of the castle that night. She’s a capable woman, but she’s not going to lift Alizarin’s entire body and carry it to the docks without being spotted.”
“Honestly, who would be able to do that?” Brex asked.
“Rufus.”
Brex slid his chalk down to Rufus’ name. “Sure, let’s talk about Rufus. Let’s talk about the fact that he has an ironclad alibi. Everyone saw him sound the alarm and after that, the doors to the castle interior were locked. No going in or out. There was someone by his side until the all-clear and Alizarin was gone by then.”
“But what did he do that night?”
“He saw the intruder, sounded the alarm, then spent the rest of the night trying to find them.”
“Right, but if he’s the traitor, we can’t trust his testimony. Think like a Defender, Brex. What’s the timeline look like if we take his account out?”
Brex sighed. “But that’s the problem, his story lines up with everything else…” He paused. “Except he was the only one who saw the intruder. He sounded the alarm. Everyone else was on the lookout for it, but he scrambled the guards and got the interior locked.”
“It’s a bit suspicious, if you ask me,” Karna said.
“But practically speaking, that still doesn’t even explain how the traitor got Alizarin out of the castle. Like, sure, you’ve got all the guards outside, but that only leaves Claret, Alizarin, the King and Queen, and a handful of servants taking shelter. And it’s not unreasonable to sound the alarm when you see an intruder, either.”
“What about those servants?”
Brex sighed. “The whole reason Claret made those drinks was to keep servants out of earshot during sensitive discussions. And among them, the only people who could get into Alizarin’s room were Oswin and Vermilla.”
“Could they have done it themselves?”
“I doubt it,” Brex said. “It’s the same problem as Claret. I could see Oswin lifting a case of wine from these chambers, but a fully grown Felarin? Vermilla is even less believable.”
“And what about the Queen? Who do you have to confirm her account?”
Brex sighed. “No one at all, honestly. Just the King and I doubt he’d be willing to hear me out at this point. Cerise made it pretty clear that I need to stop badgering all of them about this.”
“So, if you take her story out of all this, does it implicate her?”
Brex shrugged. “Yes? Does it matter? The most incriminating thing that she said was that she had a basic knowledge of sorcery. Nobody else has even talked about whether they know sorcery or not.”
“Except your tutor,” Karna said. “Okeer.”
“But he wasn’t even in the city on the day of the disappearance.”
“Wouldn’t that mean he could be the intruder? Couldn’t he use sorcery to carry Alizarin?”
Brex shook his head. “No, stop, stop. Look, this is nonsense. Everyone has talked about what happened in the days after the disappearance. They searched everywhere. Alizarin just wasn’t in the city of Sangara and nobody saw anyone loading an unconscious body onto a ship at the docks that night.”
“Think about it, Brex,” Karna said. “Alizarin didn’t just disappear. Someone had to bring him to that ship he ended up on.”
“But there aren’t any other ways to leave the city,” he said.
“There’s one,” Karna said. “And you’ve already used it.”
Brex froze. He’d spent so much time trying to figure out the whole scenario by looking at the unknowns. The variables.
But Karna was right. They’d already found how the traitor had smuggled Alizarin out, and he could just work backwards from there.
If the intruder alarm seals all the other exits and all the other witnesses out of the castle, then…
He didn’t want to consider the most likely scenario at that point. He didn’t want to think about who was applying the molten sorcerous metal onto Alizarin’s body. About who was carrying him through the empty castle halls. About who had prepared the poison that kept Alizarin unconscious until he woke up in that cargo hold trapped in a cage.
“You don’t find it odd that the intruder was never found?” Karna asked, sitting up straight and folding her hands together. There was a glimmer in her eye that Brex didn’t quite recognize.
“I…do. But,” he began, then glanced down to the golden ring on his finger.
He put that illusion spell on a silver ring as a catalyst, not a gold one. He always kept that gold ring for a severing spell.
Brex extended his hand toward one of the books lying open on the table. He felt a tug at his senses and saw one corner of a page split itself from the rest, fluttering in the air for a second before landing on the table.
He was wearing his severing spell.
Which meant that Karna…wasn’t his Karna.
“Who are you?” Brex asked, adrenaline starting to shoot through his body.
She remained silent, never breaking eye contact. “Someone interested in your success, Brexothuruk. Remember that.”
A knock came from behind him, at the door. He turned and saw a single envelope slip under the door and slide across the floor toward the bed. Gentle, purposeful footsteps then quickly strode away from the chamber door.
When Brex turned back to his chalkboard and table, Karna was gone.
Great, on top of everything, I’m losing my mind too.
He picked up the envelope and read it.
“King Crim of the United Felarin Pride-Tribes has granted your request for an audience. Please arrive at the door to the throne room at exactly twenty-five minutes past dusk tonight.”
Brex sat down in the chair that Karna once occupied and sighed for the hundredth time that day. Either that letter was a trap or a figment of his imagination, and he wasn’t sure which was worse. But at that point, it was an opportunity he couldn’t afford to miss.
Not when he had just started to understand what happened to Alizarin that night so long ago.
As the sun touched the horizon, Brex began his journey toward the throne room in quiet contemplation.
Unlike so many times before, he navigated the halls alone, with no need for guidance or direction. He had passed it often enough to remember those massive, decorated doors. No need to summon Vermilla or Oswin. He felt better on his own anyway.
Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he was piecing together the details. Making sure that his conjecture was foolproof, that there was no room for error. But hovering at the forefront was one person.
Alizarin.
When it’s all said and done, no matter what happens, he’ll be the one who’s hurt the most.
But was it my fault for digging? Or their fault for causing it all in the first place?
He arrived at the doors to the throne room, each as majestic as the family themselves. He reached down at the door handles, except there weren’t any. Only flat metal circles where they would have been.
He touched his hand to one circle and felt the buzz of sorcery through his body. The gentle resonance of Resource being pulled from him.
But nothing happened.
It hadn’t even been close to half an hour since he left his chambers. The note said he would have to wait. Alone. Before the throne room. Dwarfed by those doors.
There was a sickening sense of finality surging through him. Brex considered running. Back to his chambers to burn the note. Pretend he never saw it. Erase all his notes. Welcome Alizarin back after what was surely another long day of meetings with diplomats. Curl up in bed together, try and hide everything he’d just deduced in the corner of his mind.
Because no matter how right it felt to him, as long as he never discovered it was the truth, he could pretend it was all just his imagination.
Because the worst thing about paranoia is discovering that it was justified.
But that was never going to happen. It’d be a juggling act, and one day, he’d drop the ball. He’d let slip a word that revealed what he knew or catch the end of a conversation that confirmed his suspicions. And he’d end up here, before the door, waiting to open it and discover the worst.
Brex pressed his hand to the circle upon the door again. No response.
Was it a trap? Likely.
After all, someone sent that note unprompted, saying the King himself was granting his request for an audience. A request he didn’t ever make.
Would it be some assassin waiting for him, ready to slip a blade across his neck for daring to discover the skeletons in the royal closet? He doubted that. Brex knew he wasn’t important enough to kill so summarily. No one could hide that from Alizarin for long.
Alizarin.
Brex had convinced himself he was searching for the truth because he wanted to protect Alizarin. But speaking with his family made it clear he was far safer now than he had been in years.
No matter what happened on the other side of that door, it would surely break Alizarin’s heart. It didn’t bother Brex to think what could happen to himself, but imagining Alizarin’s reaction was like a punch in the gut, no matter what he changed in the hypothetical.
Either he’ll learn the truth or Brex would disappear from his life. Each was demoralizing. Together, they would be traumatizing.
He pressed his hand to the circle once more. Something heavy slid within the door and latched itself into place.
Brex applied a bit of pressure and the door budged, gliding inward.
He steeled himself for the worst and pushed through.
Orcanist 