Snippets from Aleyi: a collection of flash fiction

Loophole (Aidan, during AFoF)

Once upon a time, a prince plotted the death of his fiancée.

It wasn't that he went about murdering people, or even that he particularly loathed her. It was that his fiancée was a horrible person, had intentionally caused the plague that had wrecked havoc on his realm for a solid two years, and would cause his death after their wedding.

The engagement was from a treaty made two generations past, and breaking it would have repercussions that would destroy his family. If it would just cost his father his crown, the prince probably would've considered doing so—his father hated ruling—but that level of oath-breaking would wreck his realm's economy for years due to reneged trade agreements (and things were just getting solid again, after the plague years), plus it would incite certain groups to seek to wipe out his entire family, parents, uncles, aunts, cousins...

Crown Prince Aidan of the Kingdom of Salles stared at his slate, chalk held in his left hand. (Might as well practice the dexterity that might someday save his life from would-be assassins, while he was working on something he couldn't let anyone else see.)

For the sake of his family and country, he had to marry Carling.

For the sake of his life and sanity, he couldn't.

There was also the not-so-little detail that his life wasn't the only one at stake. Carling had been trying for years to kill the girl he loved...not that either girl knew he loved her. Evonalé was Carling's illegitimate half-sister, born from her father forcing his own half-sister, to intentionally have a child so he could then control the elfin magic bound to Queen Endellion's bloodline.

He sighed and dropped his slate on his desk, propped his elbows on either side, and ran his hands over his head. He rolled his neck to loosen it. "This would be so much easier if I hated Carling."

Because he didn't hate her, even though she'd caused the deaths of many subjects and even tortured Evonalé as a child. He couldn't hate her. If he hated her, he'd have to also hate his own grandmother and older brother, who were both dead and beyond redemption for what they'd done...not that either would have wanted redemption.

Aidan rubbed his left breast, where his brother—six years older than him and cruel enough that their parents had actually been relieved about his betrothal to Carling—had stabbed him, once, trying to kill him. A maid, little older than Henrik, had heard Aidan screaming and intentionally seduced his brother, to entice him away. He'd never seen her again, so he assumed Henrik had murdered her, afterwards.

He'd been four, so his memory of his recovery was hazy, but there wasn't a scar, so he'd been healed by means of earth magic. Earth affinities weren't common, in Salles, and the only one he knew would've been too young to actively use her magic then...as far as he knew. He'd been far too young to use his own magic, himself, to be able to "read" others' magic.

"So much easier if I hated her," he muttered again.

"Hated whom?" asked someone who would only speak so familiarly if nobody was around and the door was shut. "Evonalé?"

Unsurprised that the younger man had snuck in without disturbing him, Aidan turned enough to glance at William, who served as manservant but was secretly his uncle—and his only legitimate one, at that. William was four years younger than him, like her. "Not Evonalé," he said flatly.

William studied him with the silent stillness that all conqueror-King Jarvis's descendants seemed to have inherited. It had certainly caused Aidan to notice a few of his grandfather's by-blows he would've rather not known about.

Aidan sighed and turned back to his slate, sure that William had read his fondness for his fiancée's half-sister. William was sweet on her, too, though he was smart enough to not encourage it. Aidan knew better, himself, but he couldn't seem to help it. He feared, sometimes, that he'd inherited his grandfather's notorious lack of impulse control.

But then again, if he'd inherited his grandfather's poor impulse control, he probably would've tried to seduce Evonalé already.

Seduce Evonalé, who was already terrified of anything male and especially royal? He couldn't even tell her he loved her, for fear that she'd try to flee. Again.

And doubtless get pneumonia. In midsummer. Again.

He sighed—again—and rubbed his eyes.

William intruded in his space, propping himself up on Aidan's desk to peer around at his face. "Have you never read the original treaty?"

Aidan grimaced and waved at his tray of documents that had to get put away or sent on to be processed. "Yes, I have. Do you think I'd be sitting here, trying to figure out how to kill a woman, without checking for a loophole, first?"

William paged through the documents and pulled out the copy of the treaty. He glanced over it faster than Aidan could—he'd long helped both Aidan's father and Aidan himself with their paperwork, since they could trust so few people—and pointed to a particular paragraph. "Look at this bit again."

He did, letters blurring enough to make him realize he hadn't slept or eaten in too long—again—and had to shake his head. "I'm sorry. I'm not seeing..."

The words caught in his throat.

"Wait," he said. "This just says 'child of King Barnett of Grehafen'—well, 'child or descendent', because of the specific word used in mountaineer"—which made him notice that he had been speaking seafarthen without realizing it, which meant he'd been awake for more than a day—"but there's no specification as to mother."

Which mean there was no specification as to legitimacy.

He double-checked that the door was closed and they were alone, then said aloud, "This betrothal could apply to Evonalé."

"That's how your father reads it."

Aidan gave William a sharp glance—his uncle tended to be self-conscious about the fact he was four years younger than him. "Sounds like you're getting more confident."

"Thanks," William said, then shook his head and took the bait: "And you know it's supposed to be 'as if' or 'as though' in that sentence, not 'like'..."

Uncle and nephew shared a smile, put the copy of the treaty back in the nephew's out tray, and they started brainstorming together how they might convince Evonalé to marry Aidan before her half-sister did.