Chapter One
Baelan
Baelan Covendane stretched out on his feather bed and yawned. The sun was just beginning to fade into the lower quadrant of the sky, and his chamber was warm and humid. The muggy air was enough to make Baelan feel both relaxed and stifled.
The dinner gong sounded – three loud chimes – but even that wasn’t enough to make Baelan rise from his supine position. Instead of getting to his feet, he rolled over and pulled a feather pillow over his head, burying his face in the silken cover.
He hadn’t always been like this.
Months ago, Baelan had been happy.
And when the trouble had started, Baelan was the last person to see the light.
The gong sounded again – one long, ominous chime, meant to hurry all stragglers into their respective dining rooms. The royal compound was busiest at this time of day, with servants ferrying high towers of food from their kitchens to their waiting masters and mistresses.
Baelan groaned. For what seemed like the hundredth time in the past few weeks, he had no appetite.
Perhaps Mother will forget all about me, Baelan thought as he rolled over in bed. The silken sheets beneath his body were warmed and musky from his unwashed body. I’m lying like a pig in the muck, Baelan thought as he lowered his face to his armpit and sniffed. The stink that filled his nostrils was enough to make him flinch.
But it didn’t matter that Baelan was grimy and unclean. He had no reason to leave his chamber, no reason to socialize with his family or friends.
He was in self-imposed exile, and it seemed only fitting that he should remain in such.
For a few moments, the air was hot and still and silent. Baelan yawned again and pulled the coverlet over his legs, closing his eyes and trying to clear his mind. It seemed to Baelan that when he was awake, his mind was tired and sluggish. But whenever he lay down in bed and prepared for sleep, suddenly his mind was awake and alert. Thoughts – meaningless thoughts, things that made no sense – churned through his mind. Songs Baelan had not heard in years filled his head, and his feet twitched with the ghosts of dances in months past.
I am so weary, Baelan thought. And it is all my fault.
A loud rapping at Baelan’s chamber made him jump.
“Baelan? Are you in there?”
Ignoring the sound of his mother’s voice, Baelan groaned and rolled over again, pulling the silken pillow over his head.
“Baelan, I hope you are decent. I am coming inside.”
Still, Baelan didn’t move.
The door creaked and rumbled, swinging open. Sharp footsteps sounded on the stone floor.
“Baelan! Are you asleep?”
Baelan didn’t reply.
Seconds later, Baelan felt his mother’s touch on his arm.
“Baelan, I know you are awake,” she said in an even, no-nonsense voice. “Get up. You are late for dinner.”
“I am not hungry,” Baelan mumbled, his words drowning in the fabric of the pillows.
“Get up!”
When Baelan didn’t move, his mother’s fingers closed around his shoulder and hauled him up into a sitting position.
“Baelan, look at me,” Baelan’s mother, Arsinoe, commanded.
Baelan heaved a tremendous sigh before opening his eyes and giving his mother a sarcastic expression.
“What is it, mother?”
Arsinoe sighed. “Baelan, please, you are acting like a child,” she said. “You are a man! What is the reason for this, for this moping? For this stewing about?”
Baelan laughed humorlessly. “You know exactly why,” he replied, yawning and rubbing the rough sleeve of his tunic against his face. He could feel three or four days’ worth of growth on his chin and jaw.
“Baelan!” Arsinoe snapped, crossing her arms over her petite frame. “Do not be so surly and disobedient with me!”
Baelan didn’t reply. “I am not hungry,” he said, carefully enunciating every word.
“Come down to dinner, please,” Arsinoe said. “We have a guest this evening, and I would very much like for you to visit with her.”
Baelan stared at his mother. “Who?”
“Aya Covendane,” Arsinoe replied. “She has not dined with us since your sister left the kingdom, and I am sure she has a great deal of happy news to share.”
Baelan shrugged. “She lives practically next door,” he said. “I can see her whenever I wish.”
Arsinoe gritted her teeth. Historically, Arsinoe had been much more lenient with Baelan than with his younger sister, Selene, who had always been the troublemaker of the family. But now that Selene had left Zheka with her lover, Arsinoe’s focus on Baelan had been magnified.
“Baelan,” Arsinoe said, biting her lip. “Please. I know why you are upset. You must try to move forward. You are not responsible for this.”
“I am,” Baelan said stubbornly. He sighed. “If I had not been so stupid and willful, perhaps the kingdom would never have been placed in danger.”
Arsinoe sighed. “You must work on learning to forgive yourself,” she said softly. She reached out and put a hand on Baelan’s shoulder, momentarily tender and calm.
“I cannot,” Baelan said. He closed his eyes and this time, the image branded on his eyelids was that of the Lady Taryn. “I cannot forget her.”
“Baelan, the woman you knew did not exist,” Arsinoe said gently. “She was smoke and mirrors, all magic. You know this.”
Baelan stared at his mother. “Yes,” he said sharply. “And yet I was foolish enough to fall for her anyway. What of that, Mother?”
Arsinoe didn’t reply. She grew stern once again. “Baelan, please wash and then join us downstairs,” she said. “We will be expecting you.”
When Arsinoe left Baelan’s chamber, he debated lying back down in bed and trying to sleep. But talking to his mother had left him all too uncomfortable and aware of his surroundings.
If only I had not fallen for the Lady Taryn, I would not be so miserable, Baelan thought as he slowly got to his feet. His joints were stiff and creaky after being in bed for so many hours. As he crossed the cold stone floor of his chamber, he shivered. There was a bowl of tepid water on the table by the door, and Baelan splashed his face, beneath his arms, and his neck before drying off with a rumpled muslin cloth. He gazed in the mirror, not liking the dark circles under his radiant blue eyes.
If Baelan had been able to emerge from his shell of self-pity, he would have seen a handsome man in the glass. But all he could focus on was the dead look in his eyes, the way that wrinkles formed around the corners of his mouth like an old man.
By the gods, I am only nine and twenty, Baelan thought, narrowing his eyes at his own reflection. And I look like an old man!
Had Baelan not been worried about Arsinoe storming back in and literally dragging him downstairs, the thought would have been enough to send him back to bed. Instead, he pulled on a leather vest and a couple of golden bracelets that clung to his muscular forearms. He poured some water over his dark hair, slicked it back from his tanned forehead, and reluctantly left his chamber.
The halls of the royal apartments were silent as Baelan made his way down the wide, arched hallway and into his family’s dining room. All of the seats were filled – something that hadn’t occurred since Selene had left Zheka.
When Arsinoe saw Baelan, she forced a smile. “Thank you for joining us,” she said primly. “I have seated you next to the Lady Aya.”
“Hello, Baelan,” Aya said, dipping her head and flushing.
“Hello,” Baelan said as he lowered himself into the wooden chair. “It’s been a while since I have seen you, lady.”
Aya nodded. She was a pretty girl – pale, with dark blonde curly hair arranged in a braided crown at the top of her head.
“Yes,” Aya replied. She blushed again. “I do not think I have seen you since before Selene left.”
Baelan nodded.
Arsinoe rang a small bell and two of the kitchen servants came into the kitchen, carrying steaming dishes of fowl and game. One of the servants knelt before Baelan and heaped steaming roast goose on his plate, followed by a healthy serving of mashed squash and browned carrots. The food smelled good, but Baelan couldn’t summon the will to eat. He poked at his meat with the tip of his knife and tried not to frown when a trickle of grease emerged from the goose.
“What is it, Baelan?” Aya asked softly. “Is the goose not to your liking?”
Baelan shrugged. “’Tis fine,” he replied.
“Baelan,” Arsinoe said sharply. “You have not inquired about Aya, perhaps you could take a walk with her after our meal and ask how she has been.”
Aya blushed a crimson red. “Oh, that’s not necessary,” she said softly. She smiled at Baelan. “I am sure Baelan is just tired, is that right?”
Baelan nodded. Thank you, he thought as he looked at Aya. She must be just as embarrassed as I am, he thought as he watched the slow and careful way she lifted a bite of squash to her mouth. It can’t be much fun, a single woman at her age, with no prospects.
It was hard not to feel bitter. Aya is single and childless, and since my marriage ended in shambles, I must be the only suitable man for her, Baelan thought angrily, tightening his grip on his knife.
“Have some wine, Baelan,” Aya said gently. She got to her feet and poured wine from a silver jug into his glass. He took the glass in both hands and drank the entire thing, barely tasting the wine as it slid down his throat.
“More, please,” Baelan said, holding the glass towards Aya. She flushed once more but refilled it, then tucked her long skirts beneath her thighs and sat back down.
“Aya’s mother tells me that Aya has begun learning a new type of embroidery,” Arsinoe began, keeping one eye locked on Baelan. “Isn’t that wonderful?” She smiled at Aya. “You must be very gifted.”
“Oh, ma’am, I wouldn’t say that,” Aya said nervously. Baelan watched as her hands twisted in her lap under the table. “I just hope to learn new skills and better myself.”
“That is a very good notion,” Arsinoe said. “Baelan, you should take more of an interest in the lady Aya.” She raised an eyebrow at Baelan. “Do you not think it would be good?”
“Sure,” Baelan said, shaking his head. “Fine.”
The silence that fell over the table was almost unbearable. Finally, Aya cleared her throat.
“More wine, anyone?”
Baelan drained his glass and shoved the empty mug at Aya. His head felt hot and achy like he’d been drinking for days instead of mere minutes.
Aya refilled his glass.
“Baelan, take care,” Arsinoe said, her tone maddeningly calm.
“I’m fine,” Baelan said irritably. He grabbed the wine glass and poured the liquid down his throat, barely even tasting it before shoving the glass back in Aya’s direction. Aya gave Baelan an odd look, but he gestured angrily to the glass and she dutifully refilled it.
“There,” Aya said. She glanced into the pitcher. “We are almost out of wine.”
Baelan couldn’t help but notice she looked relieved.
“I’ll go to the cellars and get more,” Baelan said, getting to his feet. There was a massive rush of blood to his head, and for a moment he thought he would pass out, but thankfully he managed to stay upright.
“Baelan, that is a job for the servants,” Arsinoe snapped. “Sit back down!”
Baelan ignored her. “I’ll be back,” he said, then hiccupped loudly before stumbling out of the dining room and down the stairs to the kitchens and cellars.
Servants passed by, all laden with heavy trays and dishes. Baelan ignored them, too, and they did the same – as a royal cousin, Baelan had free access to most of the rooms in the royal compound. When he made it to the cellars, he grabbed a bottle of aged red wine and pulled the cork out with his fingers before tilting his head back and drinking straight from the bottle.
He had no desire to rejoin his family. Instead, Baelan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and set out for the royal castle. He staggered out of the royal compound. The sun had set, but the air was still light and warm. Crickets chirped and sounded, hidden in the grass, and Baelan was tempted to lie back and stare at the sky until the stars appeared.
Baelan pushed on. By the time he stumbled across the drawbridge to the castle, he was sweating profusely. He could smell himself – musky and greasy, almost like a farm animal, and the realization soured his mood even further. Walking unevenly into the castle, Baelan made his way to the spiral staircase that led up to the royal family’s apartments.
“Aerdan!” Baelan yelled, pounding on a heavy wooden door. “I know you’re in there!”
When the door opened, Baelan was greeted by the sight of a beautiful young woman with loose tangles of black hair falling around her shoulders. She didn’t smile.
“Hello, Angelica,” Baelan said, hiccupping loudly. “Where’s Aerdan?”
Angelica’s frown deepened. “He is asleep,” she said, glancing over her shoulder and sighing. “At least, he was.” She put her hand on the growing bulge of her belly. “Would you like me to send him out?”
“Can I come in?”
Baelan’s request was met with a frosty look from Angelica.
“Wait here,” Angelica said, closing the door. Baelan leaned against the heavy wood but he couldn’t make out the snatches of conversation coming from the other side.
A few moments later, the door swung open. Aerdan stood there, looking distinguished and royal even though his brown hair was rumpled and he had dark circles under his eyes.
“Come on,” Baelan said irritably. He passed Aerdan the bottle of wine. Aerdan took one skeptical look and shook his head.
“Baelan,” Aerdan said, frowning. “This is almost empty. How long have you been drinking?”
“Not long enough,” Baelan slurred. “I’m a failure.”
Aerdan groaned. “Not this again,” he said, taking his friend by the arm. “You have to forgive yourself.”
“You sound like my mother,” Baelan snapped. He felt a renewed rush of energy and he grabbed the bottle back from Aerdan, throwing back his head and taking a long drink.
“Have you ever considered that your mother is possibly right?”
“No,” Baelan said. He stumbled down the stairway, then led Aerdan out of the castle, weaving on his feet. He nearly fell over more than over, but somehow managed to stay upright.
“Where are we going?” Aerdan asked in exasperation. “I cannot leave Angelica alone for long – you know, she is breeding and sickly!”
“Forget her,” Baelan slurred. He finished the last of the wine and tossed the bottle at the stone walls surrounding the royal castle. The glass shattered into dozens of tiny pieces and fell to the ground. A few shards struck Baelan in the forearms, but he didn’t even feel the pain.
Aerdan narrowed his eyes. “I’m going to forgive you that comment because I know you’re drunk,” he said seriously. “But Angelica is my wife, Baelan.” He shook his head and gave Baelan a bitter look. “Friend, I care for you. But this – this self-indulgent, horrible behavior! It’s too much, you need to grow up!”
Baelan rolled his eyes. “No one cares for me,” he said, wrenching his arm away from Aerdan.
“Baelan!” Aerdan yelled. As the soon-to-be High Commander, Aerdan was every inch the royal man who would lead Zheka. Despite this, Baelan had rarely seen that side of his friend. As royal cousins, Baelan and Aerdan had played together since they were infants. They were truly best friends and confidants.
“What?” Baelan asked sourly.
When Aerdan’s fist connected with Baelan’s jaw, he felt no pain. He merely stumbled backward before falling in a mess of mud and excrement.
“What was that for?” Baelan asked, rubbing his jaw and glaring at Aerdan. From his undignified seat, it looked like there were three Aerdans swaying in front of him.
Aerdan sighed. “I cannot continue to watch you destroy your life for no good reason,” he said. “I know that my words are harsh, but my intent is pure, friend.”
Baelan didn’t reply.
“You are mourning the loss of someone who never existed, someone who only wanted to trick you,” Aerdan continued. “And while I won’t placate you and tell you that you did the right thing, I think most people would have fallen under her spell.”
“Hey,” Baelan said. He struggled to get to his feet, but slipped and fell right back down in the muck. “You don’t know anything about me!”
“Save it, Baelan,” Aerdan said, shaking his head. “You have done nothing but pity yourself and mope around for the last two moons! I am sick of it!”
“I have not,” Baelan said indignantly.
“Yes, you have,” Aerdan said. “Friend, I cannot allow you to continue indulging yourself as would a child! I am going to be a father, I have to be a man. And I encourage you to do the same.”
“Yes,” Baelan said, glaring fiercely at Aerdan’s sculpted face. “You forget – I have no wife. I have not even a strumpet, a girl to bed in the hay!”
Aerdan shrugged. “There are many beautiful women in the kingdom,” he said. “I am sure you will find the one who is meant for you eventually.”
Aerdan stared at Baelan for a long moment before offering his hand. At first, Baelan refused to take it.
“Baelan, come on,” Aerdan said. “I will lead you back to the compound.”
Baelan got to his feet, swaying unsteadily. “No,” he said. “No. I will not go home. Not just yet.”
Aerdan sighed. “Fine,” he said. “Friend, live your life on your own terms. But do not be surprised if all your friends forsake you when you continue acting like a fool.” He shook his head once more, then turned in his leather boots and stalked away.
What an ass, Baelan thought as he watched Aerdan’s frame disappear into the twilight. The weather was beginning to cool – the mud and shit spattering Baelan’s trousers felt freezing cold – but Baelan had no urge to return home, to bathe, or even to apologize to Arsinoe, Aya, or Aerdan for the bullish way he’d behaved.
Instead, Baelan tottered on nervous legs down to the docks. There was a group of men there, drinking and carousing. Normally, Baelan would have stood out – after all, his clothes were fine ones, and it was easy to tell by a glance at his hands that he had never worked a day of manual labor in his life. Although as he was, covered in mud and grime, Baelan blended right in.
“Good sir!” One of the men yelled. “Care for a drink?”
Baelan nodded and the man passed a skin full of wine over to him. Baelan took the skin in both hands and poured half of the wine straight into his mouth. It spilled from his lips, dribbling down his chin and staining the front of his tunic.
“Good gods, man!” The man yelled.
Baelan shrugged, then reached into his pocket and handed the man a few pieces of silver. “I think that should more than cover the cost,” he said, his eyes bloodshot and watery. “I have no quarrel with you, sir.”
The crowd fell silent. It was unusual to see a man as openly wealthy as Baelan down at the docks.
“Tell me, men, what news,” Baelan said. He was unaware of the fact that he was practically shouting.
“Can you read?”
“Aye,” Baelan said, touching his forehead with the fingers of one hand. “But right now, I think I am too far gone.”
The men burst out laughing. One of them thumped Baelan on the back, making him cough, and then passed Baelan a piece of dirty parchment.
“The queen has called for men to join her,” one of the men said. “She wants us to have a navy, a working defensive navy!”
Baelan blinked as the idea slowly penetrated his mind. “Are we to sail away from here?”
“Aye,” the same man said. “Sounds a fright to me, I don’t fancy the water much.”
Judging from the way he smelled, Baelan could tell he wasn’t lying.
“Do you have a quill?” Baelan asked, squinting down at the parchment. He could only make out a few words – the queen’s name, followed by a bunch of small print that he couldn’t read.
It felt like an eon before someone passed Baelan a crude pen fashioned from a feather. Ink dripped from the tip. Baelan wrapped one hand around the pen and lowered the nib to the parchment before signing his name, Baelan Covendane, in a crooked, looping scrawl.
The men stared at him. “You’re a royal cousin?”
“Aye,” Baelan said, nodding his head. “I am.”
The men blinked in wonder. “And you’ve just signed the naval form!”
“Aye,” Baelan said. He glanced down. Seeing his name scrawled on the parchment sent a sobering thrill through his body.
“Why you could die,” one of the men said with wide eyes.
Baelan could only shrug. “I may,” he said. “But it’s just as well. I do not deserve to live.”
Before the men at the docks could inquire as to what Baelan meant, he’d turned on a drunken heel and begun staggering back home to the royal compound.