Reylor's Lament | The Empire Saga Novella #1

Chapter Eight

Reylor's mind was not kind to him between Treyan's departure and the time it took him to walk towards the Councillor's chambers for the unwelcome meeting. Would Treyan reveal him to the Councillor, he wondered as he pulled himself out of bed to dress for the day. Did Treyan really think he'd be able to forget about everything that had happened, he asked himself as he tied his blond hair back at the base of his neck. Does he truly have to act as though nothing had happened, he questioned as he began his trek through the palace hallways.

By the time he arrived at the meeting, he had worked himself into such a furious tizzy that he had no idea if there would be any way for him to make it through the meeting without Treyan outright murdering him for treason. He entered the room in silence, taking his seat across from Treyan, which seemed to annoy him even more today than any other day. Reylor gave his brother no more than a passing glance, and even that was enough to boil his blood. It took every ounce of his willpower to keep from vaulting over the table to rip the smugness right off of his face.

Before any additional murderous thoughts could enter his mind, the Councillor entered in his usual fashion with his dark robes sweeping behind him while he took his place at the end of the table.

"My prince. My lord," the Councillor nodded to each of them in succession. "Today is an extremely important day. The Empress has presented herself to Prince Treyan, and we must immediately begin our preparations for her arrival."

Mention of Alexstrayna sent Reylor's insides to mush as memories of their dreams together flooded his mind. His emotions must have been clear on his face, for Treyan glared at him out of the corner of his eye, as though challenging him to say something. In no mood for his games, Reylor rolled his eyes and diverted his attention to anywhere else but his brother. Luckily the Councillor was unaware of their silent exchange, for he continued with his proclamations.

"With the discovery of the Empress underway, it is our responsibility to the Empire to assist in every way we can. Lord Reylor, we must construct the Key that will take Prince Treyan to the Empress. And as the Lord Steward, and the right hand of the Crown Prince, it will be your responsibility to see that this is done. Immediately."

Hearing the demand from the Councillor had Reylor realizing the harsh reality of his current situation. The added reminder of the immediacy of his request contributed to the young lord's mental defiance. Of course they expected him to assist in helping his brother secure the safety and surety of the Empire. It's what every Lord Steward had done before him, and unless he did something to change it, it's what every future one would do as well.

Knowing the impressionable minds of those around him, chances were they never considered reading the Prophecy themselves, nevermind put some thought into what it all meant for their very existence. For all they knew, there could have been a mistake, an error in their history's recordkeeping—perhaps there didn't need to be a distinguished birth order to determine whose responsibility the Queen Empress would become. What would they do if they came to discover it was Reylor who had dreamt of her first? Regardless of birthright, perhaps it should be him to make the trip to the Otherrealm and retrieve the Empress, leaving his brother behind to do the Councillor's menial labor. Would it not serve him right, after attempting to hold him back from his true potential for so long?

It all made sense now. Reylor was never given the chance to show his ability to rule because he was locked within the library preparing for this his entire life. Well, shame on them... shame on him for not seeing it sooner. His eyes were now open, he saw what was going on, and he would be damned if they thought—

"Lord Reylor?"

The Councillor's voice snapped him out of his reverie, and he looked to the head of the table, where the robed advisor watched him intently as though he was expected to make a royal proclamation himself. Out of the corner of his eye, even his brother was perking a brow at his sudden detachment from the current proceedings.