Kingdom's Vice Series: A Voyage of Vengeance ( #2 2015)

Chapter Twenty-Five: An Account From The Wind

"We lost them!" Alec exclaims roughly, tossing his blade aside with force, letting it clatter to the ground. He does not motion to retrieve it. He slumps against the Tree, his armour glistening in it's Light as the king emerges from the throne room.

"Treachery is at hand!" he declares in a furious voice as the people gather. "They have betrayed us all! They have taken our kin prisoner." He looks to Alec, "Get up! Send a legion after that ship!"

Alec stands and extends a gloved hand, "My Lord, our arrows are spent. They are no more arrows in the armoury. We will have to fashion some ourselves."

"Then do it! I will not rest until de Susa's head is brought to me on a silver plate. Double the watch on every corner of this kingdom. Barricade our guests in my chambers until further notice. No-one enters and no-one leaves that room without my hearing of it—under pain of exile." He turns to the crowd and the guards among them, "Is that clear?"

There is a collective, "Yes, My Lord!" that resounds.

With a swish of his silken robe, he departs without another word to be uttered under his breath, however cold or smooth it may be. Alec's eyes still wander to the shore, where the ship once was and he ponders the thought of leaving. But to leave would be to dishonour the king himself. That he could not do. He exchanges a weary, cautious look with Faeore, who is occupied with the child in her arms. His expression falters to one of fear and she shakes her head sadly. Alec stumbles back, his hand still leaning on his sword hilt instinctively. When the crowd disperses, they find one another in the shadows.

He pulls her aside me, "Unhand me," she snaps sharply, bobbing her child up and down in her arms. She pauses and squeezes her eyes shut, "Please,"

He releases her swiftly. "What news?"

"None," she replies with a sigh. "I see nothing. A blank space. No faces, no eyes—nothing. I do not know what it is you want or expect me to see: I do not see it."

He leans in closer so his hiss is a breath upon her face. "I want you to see her!" he snaps, before recoiling from her solemnly.

She grins, "I'm sure you'll be one to appreciate the amusing fact that she asked the same of me about you."

He frowns, "What?"

She nods, her eyes closing in her on her father's face. "She came to me a time ago, asking if I could conjure a vision...of your future."

Eagerly, he moves in. "And?"

A fire burns in her eyes. "And you think I told her what she wanted to hear?"

"What did you tell her?" he counters fiercely, the silver of his breastplate gleaming in his eyes.

She scoffs, "Such are the hearts of Meyn. Even if you were told of your fate, you would do nothing to prevent it. You would strive to fulfil that which has been foreseen, would you not? Death is inevitable in your world, and so to know how it all ends is just another dream."

"I'm not of Meyn anymore. I do not fear death."

She acknowledges this with a grin, "But you do fear pain," she kisses her child's soft hairless head. "Not necessarily yours, either. We all do."

He looks down at the child, and at that exact moment, his anger melts away and his fingers reach for the one thing that could draw him back from the shadows. The pearls. The second he touches them, his face lights up.