Angel Song Page 9

  The cold had consumed him. The fate set out for him and his Kingdom fell at his feet into dust.

  “I do not think I want to leave,” she said slowly. “But neither do I think I have a choice. Faking one’s death seems very wrong, but I am unsure what other options I have?”

  You could stay, Enlin thought.

  “We had few to begin with,” he said instead. Enlin had again and again cycled through every option he could think of, except the one Breeon had just chosen. He had spent his sleepless nights examining every possibility that could befall the Kingdom if war came.

  He had listed reasons why she could not marry him, but he had never considered she herself would refuse, despite her statements that she could not. She had little choice in the matter. He was a Prince, after all. It was his choice.

  And yet, she was choosing the option he had least expected. The one he had not bothered to examine for options of to get her out of the Kingdom. It was a hard truth to look at the woman in front of him and admit even in the small amount of time she had been in his life, he had decided he wanted her to stay there.

  That didn’t make sense, either. Why, after all the years he had chosen to be alone did he choose the one woman he could have no future with? Enlin had learned self-control; taught himself to put his emotions away and deny any attractions that had come his way. Now, he wondered if perhaps there had never been any attractions at all, and it had been easy for him to believe he had achieved his goal only because it had not been difficult.

  Grasping at what resolve he could find, Enlin clenched his jaw and determined there was no choice. She had just taken it from him. He would bury whatever he was feeling and simply convince himself she was no different than any other woman he had met.

  Turning, he unlatched the door and opened it. “We will speak again when I have come up with a plan. There are few I choose to trust with such a thing, and there is a possibility this plot could fail and it will end in your death.”

  His hand curled around the thick wood of the door as he moved aside to let her pass. When she was in the hall, Enlin extinguished the torch and closed the door behind him.

  “If I did marry you, Prince Enlin, it could result in both of our deaths,” Breeon said quietly into the dark hall.

  Thinking of his father’s words, Enlin tried not to think perhaps fate had already chosen for all of them, and Breeon was right.

  Chapter Sixteen

  With Breeon’s decision in mind, finalizing a plan had become priority. He had spent another restless night thinking of little else.

  After breakfast, he had intended to continue making plans, but Telphee had called him into a meeting with the King and a few other advisors. Enlin had been unfocused and ran through scenarios in his head while Telphee’s voice had droned.

  Now, free, Enlin ordered a servant to see that he and Rylan’s horses were prepared and sought out his friend.

  There was a hint of warmth in the air as they galloped across the open fields, signaling spring was making its debut of the season.

  To obtain privacy, they sought the waters of the Illuvian, the western lake he had likened Nyala’s eyes to. They rode hard and allowed the horses more leisure as they drew close so they could talk.

  “We have limited time, Enlin. Wedding preparations mean the castle is at a higher capacity already, and more people watching will make things more difficult.”

  “You are right. She has chosen, Rylan. We will need to be mindful that every step is well executed and it happens quickly.”

  “Have you a plan then, Prince?”

  “Not one I like. It puts others in danger.”

  “And the alternative?”

  If there was one, Enlin had not thought of it, but it made nothing easier. “I could think of only a handful I feel we can trust completely. I have chosen Theara to help us get her out, but I haven’t spoken to her as of yet.”

  It had not been an easy choice. There was her family to think of, and if she was caught, it could mean death for all of them. Or life, if removing Breeon from the equation had the desired effect. His father’s dilemma would have to be dealt with separately.

  Theara seemed to be the most viable option. She already knew of his secret and there was a personal connection. To him, to his family, and to the Kingdom as a whole. She would want peace to continue as much as anyone, and from the words she had spoken during their past meeting, he had wondered if she had been a part of the scheme that had ended his mothers life.

  If Rylan agreed with his choice, he would seek Theara’s presence and question her further. He wanted no more facts to defy the reality he had known before Breeon had arrived at his door.

  It was then everything had changed, and while she seemed to be at the center of it, he could not convince himself she was the cause. So facts he would gather, whether he wanted to know them or not.

  Enlin had filled Rylan in on the mysteries falling around them like dominoes, including the things his father had recently told him. Whatever happened, he needed someone who knew all of the aspects at play in case he himself became incapacitated and could not move forward with the plan, when they came up with one.

  “I think she is a good choice,” Rylan commented. “She was invested in your birth enough to keep her secret all these years. We could also ask Alayna for help.”

  “I still fear her involvement in some way that has not yet come to light.” Enlin had been unable to put an end to the suspicion that Alayna knew more about Breeon than she had said. Who his bride was had not come up, but if Alayna had heard any of the gossip that had spread so quickly, it was possible she had known.

  He could think of no good reason for her not to share any information she might have had that would help the cause for the Kingdom. Whatever happened, Enlin was sure he would see Alayna again.

  “Breeon’s death must be believable. It’s too convenient to have her die in her sleep and be carried out in the morning.”

  The lake was before them. There were still pockets of ice. They glimmered in the light, adding to the mystical appearance of the lake as a whole.

  Like the Woods of Valoria, Illuvian Lake was mysterious and often avoided. At times, it looked no different than any other lake, but then the light would shift, and if you looked closely you would see the soft flicker of transparent butterflies dancing in the air above the clear water, or flitting about through the branches of the spiral trees along the banks.

  Enlin had spent many a day in his younger years sitting for hours watching for the sparkle of the wings. He had learned not to speak of the occurrences, as many saw nothing at all after being near the water.

  Dismounting, Enlin led his horse to the edge of a bank and allowed his horse to drink. He ran his hand over the neck of his stallion. “She could be thrown by a horse. That could be done with little audience.”

  Rylan stroked the neck of his own horse as it drank. “That could work. Her riding level is unknown. No one would think anything of the two of you going riding, with me as a chaperone. Do you trust the Priest would declare her death?”

  “No. But perhaps... when my mother died, who brought the news?”

  Rylan shook his head. “I do not know. Telphee would.”

  “We cannot arouse Phee’s suspicions in any way. We can ask him no questions.” Thinking through the small list of those he felt he could trust again, Enlin thought again of Theara. And also how unsettling it was that after so many years of peace the list was so short.

  “I will speak to Theara tonight and see if she is willing to assist us in our endeavor. She may well know the answer to our other questions as well.”

  “The sooner the better, Prince Enlin. Time is short.”

  Enlin frowned. He did not need the reminder. He well knew it was. He hated the secrets that had come to light within the past days, and now he was a part of creating more. He did not want to leave behind a legacy that was not pure and good. He had long admired what he had thought his father had accomplish
ed, and had made it a goal of his own to carry on what would someday become his to mold and shape.

  “We will need someone to accompany Breeon to see that she is safe and can ensure she can begin a life somewhere. It will need to be someone that will not raise any flags when they leave and do not return for some time.” Enlin had no idea who to choose for such a position and it concerned him that if he did not choose well he might never know the outcome for Breeon.

  The more thought he put into the plan, the less he liked it. How could he ensure her safety if he was not by her side to guarantee it? He verbalized the concern.

  “Prince, you’re going to have to leave some things to fate.”

  Enlin scowled at Rylan. “Have you ever considered there might be something more than fate?”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about,” Rylan answered.

  Enlin wasn’t sure himself. Perhaps he was just looking for something to calm the chaos his life had erupted into, but the last few days he had found himself searching for more. Many in the Kingdom spoke of gods, but he himself had thought it pointless to pray to objects or mythical figures that seemed to have more at stake for themselves than for the hearts of those seeking resolution from them.

  “It would just be nice to have someone bigger than myself to reach out to for answers,” he said in explanation.

  Rylan looked at him steadily for a few moments. “I’ve never thought about it. Isn’t that the job of the King?”

  Once, Enlin would have agreed. “I’m struggling with my lack of adequate solutions for all of this and find the thought of divine help comforting at this moment. The King has his own concerns and offered little comfort for my own.”

  “Believing in such things is for fools,” Rylan said, kicking at a loose stone.

  Enlin wasn’t so sure. He might have agreed even a week ago. Perhaps believing in a god made of wood or stone was for fools. But what if the Priest and his talk of a Creator who knew all and saw all was truth? He tried to recall some of the readings that droned on and on during the Sunday masses the family tolerated. Was he a fool to be questioning everything he had always chosen to ignore?

  Something inside of him told him no. It was wise to look beyond all you knew to determine if one was missing something important. Something eternal, a voice whispered in his head.

  Many a man had sought immortality and failed. Kingdoms had fallen for it. Blood had been spilled. Lives destroyed. For what? For lives full of questions, trials, and the pursuit of an impossible reality free from suffering?

  One lived and strived to become the best version of themselves they could be. Wasn’t that all there was? And if some modicum of happiness could be found along the way for those in your care, one could die in peace knowing you had done all you could.

  The choices he had made would have to be enough. A cloud shifted the light in the air and for a few moments, Enlin thought he saw the wings of the gossamer butterflies fluttering in the air, but when he squinted to be sure, he saw nothing.

  Enlin gathered his horse’s reins and swung up into his saddle. “I will question Theara. Perhaps it would be pertinent to question Weston as well. He may know of someone we could trust for such a role.”

  Rylan mounted his horse. “Do not get discouraged, Prince. You and the King have loyal men on your side. We will do all we can to continue the legacy of peace that has been enjoyed by our Kingdom for so long.”

  Enlin appreciated the encouraging words, but his doubts continued to grow, and his hope to decrease. It was time to set his plan into motion. He did not want to wait much longer. It would help to settle his mind greatly to be able to place his focus elsewhere.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Prince Enlin.” Enlin had been unable to do anything to finalize any of his plans. Upon their return he had been summoned immediately into a meeting of the Council as the Herald had announced the arrival of the first Order of Knights, from Vilitia. For hours, their placement and dispersal had been discussed. It had been three days now, more Orders had arrived, as well as more guests for the upcoming wedding, and Enlin had grown tired of the endless arguments and meticulous attention to strategy.

  The King had fought no wars. He had not experienced ordering men into battle, or faced the reality of the day-to-day care of an army. The older Knights who had fought for Enlin’s grandfather had plenty of advice to offer, and many strong opinions on how to proceed.

  Each of the Kingdoms allied with Silvera were structured so that if needed, sending half of each Order of Knights for aid still left their Kingdoms well guarded.

  Trained from boyhood, apprenticing as a Knight was an honorable position to be chosen for. It was common to see many a child sparring with wooden swords from young ages in the marketplace and in the training yards.

  Children playing at war and preparing for one coming were two far different things.

  “What is it, Telphee?” Telphee was the last person Enlin wanted to speak to. He was ready to break protocol and remove himself from any other planned meetings to seek out Theara.

  Or Breeon. He had seen her fleetingly at supper each night, but he had not been seated by her side. Instead, he had watched her from his position near the King and had struggled to keep his mind focused on the trivialities of aristocratic complaints that were continuously brought before the King.

  The growing numbers needing to be cared for had increased those seeking the King’s presence as fear of the unknown spread throughout the Kingdom.

  “Your presence is needed in your chamber, Your Highness.” Telphee gave a slight bow and spread an arm to indicate the Prince should precede him.

  “For what?” Enlin tapped his heel on the stone beneath his boot.

  “We have welcomed Vyell Royals into our midst, and it is expected you greet them accordingly. Your appearance should reflect the respect they deserve.”

  Barely managing to hold his tongue at the snide remark, as though he wasn’t fully aware of etiquette, Enlin nodded and followed Telphee down the halls to his chamber. This was not the first greeting of Royals. The Princes from Ovsia and Vilitia had both already arrived to offer their approval and support.

  Prince Gevin from Ovsia had married just over a year ago. Enlin liked the Prince and doubted he would happy to leave his new bride. The two had seemed enamored with each other at the celebration.

  Prince Alpin from Vilitia was betrothed and not happy about it. The last Enlin had spoken to him, he had listened to the neighboring Prince voice his complaints over his chosen bride-to-be. Apparently, the Lady King Ardal had selected for his son was from across the River of Athadon and was meant to create new alliances. However, that also meant no one knew anything about the future Princess at all.

  Enlin allowed his servants to help him dress. Telphee and a company of guards waited outside of his door. Enlin gave no thought to the heightened presence until they turned to leave the castle. “Where are we going?”

  Telphee wrapped a hand firmly around his arm. “Relax, Prince. I am simply following orders.”

  Something was not right. Enlin scanned the courtyard as they stepped out and into a waiting carriage. Telphee entered with him and sat in the seat across from him. The guards took spots on the back of the carriage, and one with the driver. More swung up onto waiting horses behind the carriage.

  “Are we concerned one of the surrounding Royals has brought subterfuge?” The extra entourage of guards made sense for the circumstances. Leaving the castle did not.

  “It is a possibility, Prince. We are being cautious.”

  It was a valid argument. And one Enlin saw no reason not to accept until they pulled up in front of the church. He arched a questioning brow at Telphee.

  “This is where the King requested I bring you, Prince.”

  Enlin could think of no reason why the King would choose the church. Except one. Enlin curled a hand around the fabric of his cloak, the rich velvet causing a heaviness to gather in his stomach.

  Th
ey entered through a side door that led into the north transept. The King waited, his face tight and his eyes shadowed. Enlin loosened his fingers. His father’s face was grave and shifted the direction his thoughts had gone to consider perhaps his comment of fallacy had been correct.

  “Father?” Enlin questioned.

  The King waved him forward and Enlin obeyed, following the rigid stance of his father’s back through the doorway that led to the apse. The moment he stepped free into the crossing, he saw his initial conclusion for the deception had been accurate. The Priest stood, hands clasped in front of him. Breeon stood before him, already in place for the event that had been taken from their control.

  Guards in full armor blocked any passages leading out of the church, and the pews were filled to capacity, the waiting faces expectant and full of excitement as they beamed at their Prince’s arrival.

  The King faced him, his eyes solemn, his mouth tight. Telphee handed over Enlin’s crown, triumph glittering in his eyes.

  His father placed the jeweled circle gently on his son’s head. “This must be done,” he said quietly.

  The King maneuvered him forward with a hand on his arm, leaving Enlin no choice but to portray the subservient son who wanted only what was best for his Kingdom. Protesting in front of the people was not an option.

  He heard the ripple of whispers and exclamations of enthusiasm that passed through those congregated. Breeon partially turned her head, her face mostly concealed beneath a veil. He was unable to see her eyes clearly.

  At her side, the King raised his son’s hand and draped a scarf with the royal emblem of the Lion on it over their wrists, the gesture a symbol of his blessing. He stepped to the side to take his place, allowing the officiant to begin.

  The circumstances of a possible threat of war would be enough for anyone to offer grace for the deviations from custom. Having such a strong presence of the Royal Guard would plant enough fear that the threat of attack would easily be taken as an explanation.