The King of Saminu

Chapter 30

 Gamm left early the morning after Ellsk's death. It was only fair to take him home, and as much as it pained us both, he had to do it. Brann and I would follow after him in two days, and the funeral would be held as soon as everyone would be back. He would have the funeral of a royal. It was what he deserved.

"You need to eat," Brann ordered. I shook my head. Brann pulled my body forward, forcing me to sit up. He placed a bowl of lukewarm soup in my lap. I didn't have the energy to hold it.
"Ellsk said that you needed to persevere, Rensker. Everyone is sad. But that doesn't mean that you're allowed to stop eating. Think about the baby- think about Eluti," All I could respond with was to open my mouth.

Brann took his chance and spoon fed me. The warmth of food was comforting, and my stomach growled. Still, I had no motivation to eat. I wouldn't even be awake if it weren't for Brann.
"Come here," He whispered, crawling into the singular bed I was laying on. Ellsk's bed was empty, and I would require it to stay that way. Brann was comforting, even though his now more muscular body was slightly harder than what I was used to laying atop. Still, anything beat the military issues mattresses.

"You're going to be okay," Brann whispered. I couldn't respond. Of course I was okay. That's how life always worked? If I were caught by Xeoys, I wouldn't be killed. My family would be. When Brann convinced me to marry him, I stayed in the castle while my family suffered another day in prison. More times than I could count, I was the problem, and other people took my consequences. Ellsk should have survived. I deserved death more than him.

"What about that book you were reading. Tell me about it," I shook my head. "Come on Rensker, talking will clear your mind," Brann sighed, rubbing circles on my back with both of his hands. After a moment, he started humming.

"When my father died, I didn't know for an entire week. The news spread throughout the kingdom faster than it spread to me. I didn't take it very well. But, as soon as my father was cremated, I was coronated. My every action was watched by the people who had once been in my father's employ. I had one safety - my room. No one was allowed inside for months. Every ounce of free time I had, I was in there, crying. After a couple of weeks, my last tear was shed. I thought I liked mourning in solitude, but it wasn't helpful. Sæoa and Gozst forced their way into my room, and I remember yelling at them. They yelled back louder.

"I broke down in front of them, and they hugged me, like they had when I was a boy. I know what you're going through, Ren. It's not fair and it sucks, but that's the way the world works. Ellsk knew that. But he wants you to move on,"
"It's been barely over a day," I gambled. Brann waited. I remained silent, but my mind wandered to his question from earlier. I hadn't had time to finish reading. The last thing I remembered from the diary was that Lyrst had at one point been king.

"Do you know anyone by the name of Garen?" I questioned. Brann flinched underneath me, surprised by my voice.
"I think he's an ancestor of mine, however far back that might have been. He was king before the war," I cocked a brow, confused.
"Strange. The diary mentioned him having a brother named Bridgja. Bridgja was Slifnian," Brann smiled, a small one that only brought up a singular corner of his mouth.

"That's not possible. They can't be brothers. Slifni and Spenn... well, they were once one. We were once Saminu. Does that mean?"
"Lyrst was the last King of Saminu," I grew intrigued, wanting to drown myself in the diary once more, to finish the book I had started. But, there was no time for that now. The door to our room slammed open, a worried Tarka staring down Brann.

"Your majesty, Slifnians are approaching," Tarka announced. Both of us shot up.
"Now? I'll get ready as fast as I can. Tarka, take Rensker and go. Gamm's not here to protect her," Brann pushed me off of him and I stumbled, still not used to the shift in my center of balance. I had no time to put shoes on, nor time to grab anything. Brann shoved me into Tarka's arms, and we were running.