James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

"I know. But I’ve already figured out how to tell him most of the story, without letting on about Taeris and Caeden." Wirr hesitated. "I assume you didn’t tell him…?"

Karaliene snorted. "That you were travelling with a man he’d sentenced to death? Of course not."

"Good." Wirr exhaled. "Because I told Taeris to come here, if he wasn’t successful at the Tol. I told him that we might be able to help… convince the Council of Caeden’s importance, if necessary." He held up his hand as Karaliene made to protest. "Only if they fail, in which case they’ll have no other option. I didn’t offer without giving it some serious consideration, Kara. We both know that there are ways you can pressure the Tol without ever having your name brought into it." He stared at her pleadingly, willing her to understand. "Caeden’s key to all this; we need to help them any way we can. As long as they both stay out of Administration’s sight, it shouldn’t be a problem."

"Except that I will knowingly be giving one accused mass murderer, and one convicted one, free access to the city!" Karaliene looked at him in disbelief. "I said that I believed there was something to Sarr’s claims, not that I thought he was in any way trustworthy. I don’t feel comfortable with this, Tor."

Wirr grimaced. He’d hoped he wouldn’t have to do this - hated the thought of tainting Davian’s name even just with Karaliene, who hadn’t known him. But Davian was dead, and Taeris and Caeden needed help.

He took a deep breath. "Taeris made a false confession, three years ago. He didn’t kill those men." He quickly, bleakly explained the true events of that day to Karaliene, who listened to the story in silence.

"You believe him?" she asked once he was finished.

"Yes. It all fits - everything from why Administration thought he’d broken the First Tenet, to how he got his scars."

Karaliene sighed. "It would explain much," she admitted, still sounding reluctant. "It’s hard for me to make a judgment for myself - but if you honestly believe that’s the truth, then I will too. Should Taeris and Caeden require it I will reach out to some of my contacts, see how much we can lean on the Council without them knowing who’s behind it." She frowned at him. "But before I do that, I expect to speak to your new friends. My help will be conditional. And I hope neither of our fathers find out, else fates save us both."

Wirr exhaled in relief. "Thank-you, Kara. I owe you," he said sincerely. Then he leaned forward in his seat. “How is your father?”

Karaliene looked sick. “What have you heard?”

“That he’s been ranting against the Gifted. That it doesn’t seem like he will be willing to change the Tenets, no matter the cost.” Wirr frowned. “It doesn’t sound like him.”

Karaliene sighed. “It’s not,” she said, pain evident in her voice. "He’s… sick, I think. I can’t explain it. One moment he’ll be fine - almost normal - and then the next he’ll fly into a rage. He’s always tired, and paranoid about everything and everyone. Especially Tol Athian. When word of the invasion came, he thought it was a trick. A trick by the Gifted to get him to change the Tenets.” She shivered. “That was his first thought.”

“Why would he think that?”

“I don’t know.” Karaliene rubbed her forehead. “He refuses to believe the Blind are a real threat to the city, despite what they’ve done so far. He virtually ignores your father, and I’m finding it harder and harder to get past his guards to see him, too. He won’t even listen to Laiman Kardai half the time, and those two have been friends for near twenty years." She hesitated. "He sweats, his skin is grey, he often doesn’t eat his meals. People are saying it’s just stress, but… I’m worried.”

Wirr felt a chill. “You think the Blind have something to do with it?”

Karaliene gestured. “I don’t know; that’s the problem. I tried talking to him about it, and he just laughed it off.” Her face twisted. "And I daren’t bring it up with any of the Houses."

"Not if you don’t want a coup on top of everything else," agreed Wirr.

Karaliene nodded tiredly. “So there you have it - it’s been a long couple of weeks. But fates, it’s good to have you back. I’ve missed you.”

Wirr grinned. “Missed you too, Kara.” He raised an eyebrow. “So what now?”

Karaliene gave the ghost of a smile. “Now, we get to have a feast to celebrate the return of Torin Andras, back from his glorious triumphs in Calandra. I’m sure the generals here will be dying to hear of your exploits.”

Wirr groaned. “Is that really necessary? There is an army coming this way, after all.”

Karaliene shrugged. “The Houses will think that more of a reason, not less. Partly because everyone wants a chance to become your new closest friend, of course. And partly because most of them are fools, and they’ll welcome any chance to ignore what is happening rather than confront it.”

Wirr laughed. “It has been a rough couple of weeks, for you to talk like that.”

Karaliene rolled her eyes. “You have no idea. They’re vultures, Tor. You would not believe the number of none-too-subtle offers I’ve already had to make me queen. At a price once it’s done, of course.” She shook her head in disgust. “Regardless. They will all want a feast. And it will look suspicious if you return to too little fanfare.”

"Wonderful," said Wirr dryly.

Karaliene raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to have to get used to this again, you know.”

“I know.” Wirr bit his lip. “Speaking of which… I should probably go and see my family. No-one else knows I’m back except for you.”

Karaliene smiled, her expression softening. “Of course. You must be eager to see them. And I know they will be delighted to see you. Your father’s been so worried, Torin.”

Wirr grimaced. He wondered exactly how much trouble he was going to be in for going to Desriel. At least it would be a private scolding, he consoled himself, and only after the – hopefully happy - reunion. “Lead the way,” he said.

Karaliene hesitated. “First, let me arrange for some quarters so that you can rest. And bathe,” she added, taking in his weary expression and ragged clothing. “Your mother would likely faint if she saw you in this condition. Another hour or so of waiting won’t kill them.”

Wirr grunted. “Good point.”

He trailed after Karaliene, mentally steeling himself for what was to come, the whirlwind of attention and false smiles that he had dreaded for so long.

There was no turning back now.

Wirr waited nervously.

He had just spent the last two hours being clucked over by the palace tailor, an older man who had nearly had a heart attack when he’d seen what the prince was wearing. First Wirr had been bathed by some servants – a most uncomfortable experience in and of itself – and his hair had been cut to the latest style of the city. His beard, which had grown out to be quite scraggly since Thrindar, had been trimmed down to a neat goatee.

Then he’d been given a torrent of information regarding the latest news from Calandra, most of which he doubted he’d remember if anyone quizzed him. Still, it was enough to get by. He could always plead tiredness if the questions became too in-depth.

Now, he was waiting for his family – his father, mother and younger sister – to come and greet him. He didn’t know whether to feel excited or anxious. Would they have changed in the last three years? Would they still see him as they once had, or had the time away coloured their opinions of him?

He fiddled with his sleeves again, frowning at the lace on the cuffs. The entire suit felt odd, uncomfortable, against his skin after so many years. It made him feel like a child again, no longer able to choose what he wore.