War of the Princes 03: Monarch (29 page)

Rune strode to his bedside and gave him a hearty smack on the back.
“You survived a battle!” He was genuinely proud.

Dylan coughed and peered up at him with a bleary mixture of amusement and irritation.
“Your face is
not
the first thing I'd like to see upon waking. Practically a near-death experience in and of itself.”

“
I'd be offended, but it’s obvious that your broken skull has dimmed your already compromised intelligence,” Rune slung back.

“
Big words for a toy soldier. Did Katelyn read them to you from a book without pictures?”

“
No, I learned them myself– reading to you while you urinated in the bed-pan built into your cot.”

“
You son of a–” Dylan's face went red and he thrashed in his sheets, weakly struggling to fling himself out of the bed and at Rune.

Well, that deteriorated quickly.

I slipped between them before Dylan could fall out of his cot. He was barely well enough to sit up straight, let alone get into a fistfight with Rune. “Fight's over, guys! Leave it on the battlefield.” I never thought I'd be saying
that
as a figure of speech.

“
Ah,” Dylan said letting himself sink back into his tower of propped pillows. “Our trusty mediator.”

“
They didn't know how long you'd be unconscious,” I told him. “It was simpler to leave you... well... naked, until you awakened. Your clothes were ruined.”

“
A true shame,” Dylan said mournfully.

“
There's a fresh set on your bedside table.”

Dylan turned to look at the aforementioned garb and scowled at the fabric.
“Pitiable. Saved my coat though, didn't I?”

“
I'm amazed there wasn't any blood on it. It's right over there, draped over the chair.”

The thin wooden door to the recovery room opened and Hussar Prie entered. Her side and one of her wrists were bandaged, and the scrapes and swelling on the side of her face had begun to mend. As always, her hair was tied in a neat plait that reached past her waist.
“Ah. You're alive,” she said sounding chipper.

“
Why does everyone seem so surprised by that?” Dylan complained.

Rune smirked and crossed his arms.
“What can we do for you, Hussar?”

“
Little enough, Dragoon. General Deasun, however, has requested your presence at once.”

I nodded to her amicably.
“Lead the way.”

“
Wait– wait,” Dylan said, swinging his legs over the bed. I spun quickly around before his sheet fell completely away. “I'm coming with you.”

“
An Empty just used you to break a wall half open,” Rune chided him. “You should rest.”

Dylan let out a slow, breathy laugh.
“I'm no withering daisy. I'm a Commander and a Lord. I'll be fine.”

He didn't look like it.

Prie arched an eyebrow at Dylan as he changed into his clothes behind us. She didn't seem at all abashed by his nudity. “As you will.”

With Dylan dressed in garb that was far too common for his nature, we followed Hussar Prie through the long, windowed passages out of the medical wing. This time
, when I walked down the halls, the Northerners didn’t stare. Not only was I dressed in their own fashion, my scarf covered the scars on my chest. I wasn't hiding them. It was a cold day, but still, I didn't mind being ignored for a change.

Barely through recovery, Dylan struggled to match our pace. I stopped at several points to give him time to catch up to us, and while I waited for him, Rune waited for me, and Prie was forced to wait for all of us. Our guide was frustrated
, to say the least.

“
This way,” Hussar Prie said, leading us down to a set of heavily guarded oaken double doors.

Pressing them back on their hinges, I could see
hints of Prie's back and shoulder muscles beneath her armor. The doors creaked open. Inside sat General Deasun, Varion's bodyguard, and the reinstated Prince of the North... Kyle Kiteman.

A shapely form stepped into view.

“It's about time you arrived,” Carmine said with the kind of smile that could crush the hearts of a thousand men.

Chapter 47: On the Word of a Prince

I bounced up on my toes and practically leaped upon Carmine, squeezing her into a hug.
“I was worried about you! Is everything okay?”

She pried me off of her by my upper arms, but smiled happily back.
“Of course. I'd gone out on a stroll and returned to a troop of Hussars on the deck of the Flying Fish. Using the common sense I was born with, I simply slipped away until the chaos had passed. Took the time to visit with some old friends. Sent word to family. That sort of dreary stuff. I've been told your experience was far more eventful. Thayer. Axton.” She nodded a hello to each of them in turn.

The linen dress she wore was decidedly simple. She'd taken on the civilian's plain fashion, and somehow still transformed it into something purposely sweet and feminine.

Dylan looked her over with a curl of the lip. “Rousseau. No one's put you in manacles yet? I see wishes don’t come true after all.”

Another familiar face appeared to greet us. A long, lean body stretched, all muscle and stripes. The Lurcher yawned her eel's jaws open wide and trotted up to see us.

“Sadie!” I beamed, likely the only one of the three of us happy to see the fearsome beast. I gave her a good long scratch on the neck before Rune nudged me to keep moving.

Prie closed the doors behind us, shutting out the white noise of the keep. A huge, oval table on brass legs separated us from the leaders of the North. The room was double as tall as it was wide, and though it had no windows, a metal sculpture of four disembodied wings took up the rear wall. Each wing was at least
ten feet long, and all were underlit. I'm sure it was meant to be an awe inspiring piece of artwork, but I couldn't stop imagining what a person with the Steel, like Stakes, would have done with such a resource. Curtains that bled from burgundy to tangerine burst outward from the focal point of the room, suspended like ribbons caught in a breeze. A skylight lent the room natural light, though it was dimmed by the weight of the storm above us. Rain tapped on the glass like a visitor, eager to come in.

Kyle sat with Deasun at his left, and the bodyguard on his right side. The robotic construction looked as human as he ever had, with mannerisms and micro-movements that made him seem unfailingly natural. His panels of armor were all sealed, and his helm was down. As he turned his head to regard us, I found it eerie to think that he was actually hollow on the inside.

“Oh, good! You're here,” Kyle said, standing at once from his seat. Sadie padded her way back to his feet, her nails tapping all the way along the hard floor. In moments she was curled up behind his chair as though it had been her only duty in life.

Kyle's trim, high-collar coat was clasped
at the throat. The immaculate tailoring enhanced his lean frame, and the brilliant gold thread-work made him look the part of a prince. All of that did nothing for his posture or his casual manner. His hair remained the same too, a curly tumble, too wild to submit to any comb. I half expected him to look like a different person entirely. In some ways he did, and in many others he didn't. Judging by his expression, he wasn't comfortable here.

There were charts and scrolls and loose papers scattered across the table before him. Pens lay in neat rows at his right, along with stamps, ink-soaked sponges, and wax seals.
On the left, across from Deasun, was a polished typewriter with swaths of paper curling out behind it.

“
Come, sit down,” he said, waving us nearer. “I'm so glad to see you guys. Thank you, Hussar.”

“
Highness,” Prie bowed and remained beside the doors.

As we walked to the chairs available to us across the table, I felt a quiet anxiety rising up through my chest. Moments ago
, I was happy enough to dance through Caraway's halls, singing about the joys of survival. I'd been glad that we'd lived through yet another trial, and this time, we hadn't lost a single person. But I'd lost Kyle, hadn’t I?

I pulled the chair aside, sat, and found I didn't know what to say. I couldn't bring myself to smile. I didn't know what to do with my hands. Carmine took her seat beside me and gave me an encouraging smile.

“Thank you for the audience, your highness,” Dylan said, propping a hand on one knee and leaning forward, his back straight as a board. “We are truly honored that you've taken the time to see us.”

The so-called prince sat sideways upon his chair in a truly Kyle-like fashion.
“Drop the formalities, Dylan, we're not strangers.”

“
Apologies, sir, but as a Lord of Breakwater, I'll not bypass courtesy with familiarity.” Dylan cleared his throat and did not so much as shift a glance my way. Those of us who'd walked with him here understood how exhausted he was, but looking at him now you'd never know it. I had to hand it to him, he was a fantastic actor. “You have been declared the prince, and I humbly request your consideration on the matter of my city. When Prince Raserion discovers what's been done, he'll send an army to obliterate us.”

Kyle rubbed his eyes and dropped his hand onto the tabletop.
“I know what happened, I was there.”

Dylan didn't seem to care about Kyle's comfort level. He may not have even believed Kyle was truly Varion at all
– he may have believed that Kyle was simply acting the part. It didn't matter either way. Dylan had a singular goal. “Pardon my impertinence, but it may have already happened, for all I know. If we don't receive aid now, people will die.”

I studied the young lord. He was passionate, angry, and took his brother's plight very seriously. Perhaps there was hope for him after all.

“Mind your tone, Lord-Commander,” General Deasun warned.

“
It's alright,” Kyle said, flicking his hand up. “Of course we'll help Breakwater. It's our fault they're in the position that they are.”

Our fault. So he still considers himself one of us.

“The fault is mine, your highness,” Rune said, rising from his seat to stand at attention. “And no one else's. I would take punishment from Raserion himself if it meant no others would be harmed. I am indebted to you and if there is a way I can pay for it, simply give me the order.”

Kyle rolled his eyes and dropped his head in his hands.
“Rune, please sit down.”

Rune followed the order, and now it was Kyle's turn to stand.

“I'm the same person I was.” He leaned on the table, palms down. “You don't need to treat me differently because of what's happened here. All this standing and bowing and tiptoeing is going to drive me off the balcony. Dylan, I plan on sending a fleet of ships to Breakwater this very moment. Rune, you've only just won your freedom, don't leap into servitude so quickly.”

Deasun spread the wrinkles free of a map that lay on the table before him.
“Highness. I know you feel a kinship to the people of Breakwater, but you haven't recovered your memory. You must keep in mind that leadership is like a weighing scale with a thousand platforms. When one burden is lifted, another forms. If we send part of our fleet out of Caraway, we'll be relying entirely on our defensive force to protect the city and our ability to flank and pursue will be eliminated.”

Kyle looked as overburdened as any responsible teenager would.
“I understand that.”

“
No one has ever attempted something like this before. We don't know how our soldiers will be received by the people of Breakwater. If fighting broke out, it would be a disaster.”

“
It won't,” Dylan assured him. “Breakwater has just regained its children. We're on Prince Raserion's black list. We have too much to lose to risk fighting with your soldiers. I'm certain that even a child would understand that much. Our militia is strong, but no match for trained Hussars or Dragoons. If my brother believed your involvement would create a bloodbath, he wouldn't have sent me.”

Deasun's warning sounded as though it had come from personal experience.
“Accidents happen. All it takes is one pint too many and the wrong word in misplaced company. I'm not saying it's a cause we shouldn't take up. A foothold in the far West could be the asset we've been waiting for. It may even be enough to turn the war. What I am saying is... consider your steps carefully.”

“
Vance,” Kyle said, plopping back into his chair. “We're doing it. Just pick the right leaders, and it'll be fine.”

A line drew over the General's forehead. Somehow, I expected that picking the right leaders wouldn't be the simplest of tasks.
“So you'll have me be Lord and General, both? I'm not sure any single man is equal to such a task.”

“
You're right. It's almost like being prince. Relax. It's only temporary. I just need some time to figure out which members of cabinet I can trust. Who knows how Headly swayed them in twelve years. I also want the people of Sheer Town pulled out of that fake city he was building. They need to be returned to their homes before Raserion takes the bait and kills them all.”

Kyle always was the smart one. He was thinking on his toes and considering as much as he could. After a day and a half of being crowned as royalty, I was sure I wouldn't do half as well.

“You've mentioned this before, and it will be done, sir,” Deasun answered.

Kyle sighed.
“This has been the longest forty-eight hours of my life.”

“
If I may,” Carmine said, leaning forward in her seat. “I don't know much about ruling a kingdom, but I think you can trust your cabinet. If what you told me is true, most of them thought that this bodyguard of yours was you all along. They didn't know Headly was driving the boat. They should still have your best interests in mind.”

Kyle’s expression
lightened when she spoke, and I could see that his affection for Carmine hadn't changed.

Dylan's shoulders shook with quiet laughter.
“My, my.” He leaned forward in his seat to look past Rune and I. His hazel eyes locked onto her with disdain. “Advice without expertise is about as useful as ink without a pen. All mess and no matter.” He turned forward to look at Kyle. “Highness, I have studied tactics in leadership across the West. Do away with your entire cabinet. Release them from their duties, or at least return them to a more basic position. Choose anyone else that you please, but announce the position as temporary. You will not have to worry about Headly's influence. These people will be loyal to you without question. If they must compete to obtain their new positions, they will work twice as hard to please you. Issue resolved.”

Kyle looked between them.

“What we say doesn't matter,” Carmine said, unfazed by Dylan's insult. “We're only your friends.”

“
That matters to me more than you know,” he said to Carmine. There was a moment of peace on his face, and I was happy to see it. “Kat, you've been quieter than usual.”

I didn't expect him to bring me into it at all and I jerked at the sound of my name.
“I doubt my perspective is useful.”

“
Don't be so hard on yourself. You are Haven's ambassador.” Was he poking fun at our strangely elevated positions?

I laughed.
“Pointless, isn't it? You know everything about Haven. You don't need an ambassador.”

“
You're right, in a way,” he said, sadly. “But if I continue to sit in this chair I can't exactly be impartial.”

“
I mean no disrespect, but is it wise to discuss official matters with these people?” Deasun's onyx eyes glided over each of us in turn. His question had come off as sincere and not at all biting. “I cannot thank you enough for returning our leader to us. We can devise rewards for you. Amnesty in the North is a given, but there could be more.”

“
More is always better,” Carmine purred.

“
Do as you see fit, General,” Rune said, shooting our pilot a sideward glance. “But returning you one prince was easily worth an exchange for Breakwater's protection.”

I nearly choked. Was Rune being serious or playing alo
ng? I couldn't tell. Were we going to leave Kyle here on his own?

“
I'm right here, guys.” Kyle waved.

“
Apologies.” Deasun bowed his head, and thick strands of his ropey white hair spilled over one shoulder.

“
This is a discussion, not a lecture. You're all here to speak your minds.” Kyle shifted in his seat, straightening his back.

“
Even the Axton?” Carmine asked coyly.

Kyle studied Dylan and was quiet for a moment.
“I know what you did. A year ago, Katelyn almost died because of you. In the time we've known one another, I've witnessed you acting spoiled, demanding, arrogant, even cruel. But in that time, you have not abandoned us. I never thought I'd hear myself say it but, yes... I even trust the Axton.”

Dylan's nostrils flared against the criticism, and his chest rose slowly with gathering breath, but when Kyle admitted his trust, the young lord's mouth pressed together in a line. He actually appeared to be moved to the point of emotion. Posture as straight as a ruler, back as flat as a board, Dylan said nothing.