A Reign to Ruin: The Prince Regent and the Summer King

PART IV (End of Act I). Onward to the Summer Court

◆ VAMIR ◆

Very quickly I realized I had not traveled by land-and this far away-for many years. The last time was over a decade ago, long before there were even airships in the Glass Empire. The family had an invitation to celebrate Ettrian's fifteenth birth day, an important coming-of-age rite for highborn Alphas.

I remembered the trip to be arduous, with father and Isarrel getting sick through the entirety of the journey. This current trip of mine is not so different then, save perhaps for the absence of raucous company.

The first several hours in the carriage was uneventful and quiet, save for the sounds of the galloping horses and the wheels rolling over the cobblestone road. General Barandir led the entourage to a narrow path that wound up the side of a steep precipice from River Beren that divides the kingdom of Ilialana from the Duchy of Lorraine, a dukedom ruled by one of the sons of King Estel of the Dusk Court.

As we made our way up the hillside, I felt the wheels leaving the cobblestone roads, turning into a worn, rocky path that tossed us about in the carriage. For miles, I saw nothing but a vast stretch of water and valley. No signs, no markers, nothing but the dirt road, trees, and bushes.

For a long time, Orrian remained quiet, hands clasped together, squeezing and loosening as he absently stared at the clouds of dust in the road. But as the carriage carefully cut its way down the hillside, my steward blinked up at me as if trying to gauge my mood. I cocked my head and tried to coax a smile from him. It was then that he grinned wryly and sat down next to me.

For a moment, we said nothing to each other. Orrian's warmth next to me was strangely calming. A steady, soothing presence radiated out from him.

As a comforting silence settled between us, I closed my eyes and hummed a tune I remembered from my childhood. It's a folksong my consort-father used to sing to me when I was sick.

In the howling storm

the god Lia takes flight.

Descending from his throne

to give you might.

Kiss the bed of roses

with its crimson joy.

Ne'er shall let you suffer,

pain and sorrow he shall destroy.

I can hear him now, and I can never hear the song again without hearing my consort-father's voice. It's a little song of misery and comfort so intertwined it breaks my heart to remember it now. And then, Isarrel's tear-stained face etched into my mind, so frail and small like a babe in his sickbed. Already it feels like something from another time.

"'The Song of the Healing Roses'," Orrian said in a low tone, eyes filled with wonder. "Your consort-father used to sing that to you and the crown prince."

I nodded and smiled, leaning in to nudge his shoulder. "Hello there, my friend. Are you done sulking?"

Orrian balked. "Sulking? I'm not-" His cheeks flushed red as he cut his sentence off and ducked his head. "Forgive me, Your Highness. I did not mean to ignore you. This...I know this is not easy for you." He gestured to the space around us. "I understand that you need time and space to think."

Deciding the moment was right, I looped an arm around my steward's shoulders and kissed his temple. He stiffened in reaction but did not pull away. I do not always express my affection so openly, but I bid Orrian esteem as more than just a servant. To me, he is like a brother.