The War (All Chapters + Synopsis)

Chapter 12.2 - Lues

Rhyfelwr pauses by the door, staring at my sister as if deciding whether or not to move closer.. He makes up his mind and walks towards the bed, his purple cloak billowing behind him. Rhyfelwr comes to my side.

"It's horrible to see someone you love badly hurt, and not be able to do anything about it. My mother died from disease, but it was a lot like this. She would lay in bed, resting all day long and every moment I thought, she's going to die," Rhyfelwr starts. "She did die eventually so that's actually a very bad analogy... my point is your sister will be fine, and you shouldn't worry too much. She's here now and that improves her chances of surviving tenfold."

"Thank you Rhyfelwr, for everything," I say, bowing my head to the twysog.

He smiles kindly, then proceeds to my sister's bedside. Katlyn watches him, a question in her eyes. I don't know what the question is though, but it may have to do with one of the secrets she's keeping from me. Rhyfelwr puts a tentative hand on my sister's, and holds it gently. He looks down at her, he's assessing her condition I realize.

"Are you training to become a doctor?" I ask him.

"No, but a good soldier should also know how to care for the wounded," Rhyfelwr responds, and Amalia nods.

"In military training back home they make all the cadets do half a year of medical training," Amalia voices. She being the sole representative of her homeland.

"Lues, you do know that we have all our cadets do medical training right?" Katlyn inquires. I bite my lip, I didn't know that. I don't give much attention to the cadets, maybe that makes me an awful wartime king but, I'm busy running the actual war.

"Wow, you don't even know how your soldiers are being trained, maybe that's why they call you the Demon King," Rhyfelwr teases.

"They call me the Demon King because my uncle and those gods forsaken rebels spread all these awful rumors about me," I say in defense, belatedly realizing it was sarcasm.

Rhyfelwr raises his hands in mock surrender. He smiles, and then I smile. Maybe this is the reason for the direction our conversation went towards. They were trying to cheer me up, I stand up, and make some excuse to leave the room. I wander down the halls, somehow finding my way to a family portrait of the Frenhinol's.

The painting looks old, the Brein is about forty years younger, and Rhyfelwr barely looks like an adult. They're all dressed in the royal purple and bronze of their family. The Brein is wearing a white sash with an intricate design running down it. The Twysog is wearing formal military dress without a sash or any medals. The uniform is the plain purple and black of the royal guard. He's much plumper in the painting than he is in real life, his eyes a slightly lighter shade of purple.

The Eling is the one that really catches my attention though. Her hair is fiery red, done up in some fancy style that I would never presume to try and name. A bronze tiara is placed delicately in her hair. Her skin is milky white, her cheeks hollow and her eyes a dark purple. The artist put a lot of attention into the Eling's appearance. Her eyelashes are dark and full. The shadows of her face dark and impressive. Her dress is made of some fabric that I can't name, it's in darkest purple to match her eyes.

It looks a lot like my sister's portrait back home in Moor, one done long before my birth, Her eyes are the same, the red hair, the pale skin, but the one thing that truly ties her to my older sister, is the golden necklace hanging from her neck. The red ruby with the gold carving on it, her limiter.

I sense someone behind me, and I turn my head over my shoulder to find Katlyn staring at the painting as well. She meets my eyes, and pulls something from her pocket and she hands me a very old piece of paper.

I scan over it quickly, then look up at Katlyn. "How long have you had this?" I demand of her.

"Since a few days ago," she responds. "I found it in my rooms, apparently they were Ilena's for a while when she came a few decades back."

"So my sister is Tyrnon's daughter," I say, a dry laugh escaping my mouth. "That's just perfect, and when was she planning tell me that she was the heir to a foreign throne? When her father died? If we ever went to war with Mawrhydi she would have to choose a side."

"She would've chosen you if it ever came to that, she always chose you," Katlyn says, defending my sister's questionable decisions. "Ilena probably would've waited until... until her father died, but she had a good reason for keeping it from you. She wants to keep you safe, I'm sure if they'd offered her a choice she would've given the role to Rhyfelwr, but she's her father's only living heir, she doesn't have a choice."

"I know, but that's not the point. She kept this from me for decades, this important fact about herself. I don't care what her reasons are, she put herself and our kingdom in a dangerous position, and... if she dies Mawrhydi loses its heir," I argue, my heart breaking with every word. "How can I trust her if she's kept this much from me. How am I supposed to trust any of you when all you do is keep secrets from me."

"Her being a Frenhinol by blood changes nothing, she's been both all her life but she still fought for our country, bled for it, almost died for it on more than one occasion. She's still Ilena Conclamata, General and former Crown Princess of Feralis, and that doesn't change just because you find out she's the heir to Mawrhydi. She's still your sister, and you have to trust her because of that," Katlyn rebuttals and I fall silent.

"I know she's still my sister, but...," I stop, then chuckle to myself in the dark and humorless way and Katlyn looks on in concern. "She let him die... didn't she? She let my father die and didn't try to stop it because she couldn't care less. She's half ambro why should she risk herself to protect a full makraz like him."

I know my train of thought makes no sense, but my mind is racing and that's all I can think about. It never mattered to me before, that she wasn't my full-blooded sister, but if she's the heir to a foreign throne, everything changes. I look Katlyn in the eyes and am shocked by the hostility and anger I find in their burnished gold.

"Don't, don't you dare say that, you know nothing of what happened that year so don't you dare pin the blame on Ilena!" She hisses to me, and I'm surprised by the tone. I never thought she'd use such a disrespectful tone with me.

"That's my point though! I don't know anything because you won't tell me!" I respond. "My mother died over a decade ago yet you're still following her orders! I'm your king, so tell me what happened!"

Katlyn falls silent, then looks down at her feet. Silence fills the space and swells in the air, replacing the tension that was there only moments ago. She sighs, letting out a deep breath then looks me in the eye.

"It's not my story to tell." Katlyn turns, walking back down the hall.

I watch Katlyn walk away from me, every step of hers bringing me closer to the reason why I'm so upset. I turn to the portrait, to the painting of my sister when she was younger, before she knew what sort of misery would befall her only a few decades later. Something wet and cold runs down my cheek. It slithers into my mouth, the salty taste alerting me to the presence of the tears, now rushing down my face.

I fall to the ground, put my head in my hands, and cry for my sister, for the cruelty of my uncle, for my foolishness, and most of all, for the fact that I just insulted her honor. I just questioned the loyalty of the only person who's ever been completely loyal to me.

I feel warm arms wrap around me, and honey brown hair flows in waves around me. Amalia rests her cheek on my head as she holds me. We sit there for a long moment, and the world, for all its darkness, seems just a bit brighter.