Chapter 17
Iridalys had a long tradition of how the king’s death must be mourned. Black opals replaced various other jewels throughout the palace and adorning clothing for a time. And everyone dressed entirely black with the exception of the new king, who wore all white except for a single black silk sash. The heavy red curtains were replaced with black. The royal musicians took turns playing the funeral hymn that had been passed down for a thousand years, and the dead king’s portrait was added to the general’s conference room. Throughout the kingdom, the citizens who heard of the king’s death took three days from their work to mourn, including the lowest beggar.
Illian, however, did not take time out of his work. He spent hours poring over books on laws his father had established, treaties and trade agreements originally managed by his sister, and so on. General Valen was somewhat troubled by that. After all, the king’s son should be mourning most of all.
Illian called a meeting of the generals on the fourth day after his father’s death. He said, “The initial period of mourning is over, and I wish to waste no time in enacting my own policies.” He laid a piece of paper on the table. “I trust you are all familiar with the Wasteland Crossing Treaty.”
One of the generals started to say, “Yes, my lord; it is the trade agreement the princess-er…the former princess enacted with Tephraya.”
Illian smiled at him. “Correct.” He snapped his fingers. “Dorian, read the paper, please.”
Dorian unrolled the paper in his hand. “I, King Illian of Iridalys, hereby dissolve the Wasteland Crossing Treaty.”
The generals stirred and exclaimed in surprise, but Dorian continued resolutely. “This treaty was made without consideration for one of the deepest tenets of Iridalys, which is to stand against slavery in all its forms. Tephraya has continued to trade in slaves, and a thriving illegal slave trade between the Desert and Iridalys continues with the full approval of the Desert King, King Tarik. While this has long been considered reprehensible within our nation, King Illian believes it is time to take direct action to cease our relationship with Tephraya. From this day, Iridalys places a ban on all trade with Tephraya. Violators will be prosecuted with charges of treason and aiding the slave trade that has long been an abomination to the civilized world. Navinor fully supports this decision and has agreed to similarly ban trade with Tephraya and bring pressure to bear alongside Iridalys until such a time as the legal slave trade is banished from Tephraya.”
Dorian looked up. “Signed by the king,” he said flatly.
The generals were silent for a moment, absolutely stunned. Then Osric said, “My lord, you can’t be serious.”
Illian raised an eyebrow. “I am serious,” he said.
“Sir, this trade deal is the only reason we have survived these last few years,” one of the other generals put in grimly. “The former princess enacted this deal during the war in order to secure-”
“I am well aware of that,” Illian interrupted. “But the war is over. I don’t need to remind you, general, that our opportunity for a treaty through marriage with Navinor has passed. We shall not have such an opportunity again. But there are other options for a treaty, which must be secured at all costs. The most noteworthy is finding a common enemy against which to fight, and I believe you will agree that the only option is Tephraya. The Wasteland Crossing Treaty is an unfortunate casualty of necessity in this case.”
Osric recovered himself hastily and said, “You’re right, of course, your majesty. The benefits of such a move far outweigh any costs. Not to mention, this will undoubtedly appeal to the kingdoms across the sea which have already outlawed slavery more than a century ago.”
“But we are talking about starting another war, are we not?” another general asked. “Not to mention, dissolving a treaty which is greatly desired and needed by the general populace. It is the very reason the former princess was so strongly beloved by commoners and by many nobles.”
“And she is gone,” Illian said quietly. “I don’t think it does us any favors to keep the treaty alive for her sake. Slavery is an evil that is beyond what anyone in a civilized nation should be willing to countenance. At the moment, Iridalys products are being sent to Tephraya. Desert Kingdom merchants buy them and then use them to trade other kingdoms, including our own, illegally to buy slaves. To purchase human beings. In all honesty, this treaty was insanity from the start; a necessary insanity in a time of war when we were fighting for our lives, but fortunately, the war is over and we can once again afford to be moral.”
Illian cocked his head. “However, the reason I have not simply made the proclamation is because I am inviting you all to object as you wish. I will of course listen to your objections. But at the same time, you should all be aware that the slave trade will be eradicated one way or another, whether by force of arms, by embargos, by treaties with the slave rebellion that is currently upending Tephraya, or whatever other methods are necessary.”
They were silent for a moment. At last one of the generals said, “My lord, what are the chances that King Tarik will invade? He is called the Desert’s Wild Fury because he is irrational. He will undoubtedly be furious with the trade ban.”
“Undoubtedly,” Illian agreed. “But should he invade, Navinor has agreed to aid us for the purpose of eliminating slavery. While Prince Gregory was certainly displeased with the situation and with the former princess’s escape, he did assure me of his intentions to ratify the treaty if presented with it. For that purpose, the Prince has not returned home. He will remain here in the guest wing until such a time as the terms have been finalized.”
“He is here, sir?” the general exclaimed.
Osric said quickly, “With a small number of guards for his protection, yes.”
“The reality is that Navinor has regularly proved itself to be untrustworthy. Why should we believe they will help us if Tephraya invades?” the first general snapped.
“Navinor is tired of war as well,” Osric reminded him. “We won the last two wars, thanks to his majesty. They know that they would be next. And they desire to regain their prestige in the eyes of the other nations.”
“Precisely,” Illian agreed. “Now, gentlemen, let me repeat what I said before. I will not permit the continuation of slavery. I believe that it’s quite fortunate the eradication of slavery also serves us by giving Navinor and Iridalyss a common goal. So feel free to express your concerns now, because in the next three days, the treaty will be ratified.”
The meeting continued for some time, but Illian unhesitatingly dismissed each objection with the same language. At long last, he stood up. “Thank you, Generals. We will resume tomorrow,” he said firmly.
Grumbling, the generals started out of the room. Osric glanced over his shoulder at the king, who smiled and nodded at him gratefully. Osric smiled a little, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his manner, and then he left.
He walked back to his room, the royal chamber where his father had died, and paused in the doorway to study it. He’d have to get rid of the black curtains, he reflected. They looked heavy and depressing, which was certainly not how he felt.
Whistling softly, he stepped over to the window where a pigeon was cooing away. Illian opened the tiny capsule tied to its leg and unrolled the little scroll inside.
“Dear Kingliness, I hope that’s the right way to address you. Being a commoner, I often forget. Would just ‘king’ be all right? Oh dear, I’m wasting paper. I meant to say that I found your two friends. I am currently watching from a distance but will make contact soon. I am concerned that the big guy might beat me up if he thinks I’m after his girlfriend though. Can’t you take me back? I promise I’ll behave. But I suppose such assurances are worthless to you. You’re so unsympathetic. Anyway, I will report again soon. Respectfully, your servant, Chance.”
Illian couldn’t help but laugh as he read the tiny words scrawled on the page. Then he leaned his head out the window so he could see the bright, clear blue sky above and feel the sun on his face. He murmured, “It’s almost too peaceful.” When it was peaceful like this, unwanted thoughts and memories crowded in. Memories he couldn’t avoid, no matter how hard he tried.
Lady Trista Amana arrived at the palace just two days before the planned official coronation of the king. Many other nobles were also trickling in to attend, among them her aunt and uncle who had threatened her when she accepted Kathryn into her castle.
Her aunt exclaimed, “Trista! What are you doing here? You weren’t invited.”
Trista pulled up her horse and looked down upon her disdainfully. She rather liked being able to look down on people; it was a rare feeling for someone her size. “Aunt Elaine. What I am doing here is no business of yours.”
Elaine scoffed. “Don’t be disrespectful, child. I am your elder, after all.”
“Being older is rarely something to brag about, Aunt.” Trista glared at her. “If you would move out of the way, I have business with the king.”
“Don’t be absurd,” her uncle put in, grabbing the reins of her horse.
Her man-at-arms raised his crossbow. “Release Lady Trista,” he commanded.
The uncle backed away hastily, furious and shocked.
Then a young, friendly voice exclaimed, “Lady Trista, is that you?”
The Amanas started and bowed before their king as he swept past them without a glance in their direction and held up his hand to his sister’s friend. “It is you! I could not be happier that you received my invitation,” Illian said smoothly.
Though momentarily confused, Trista took his hand and allowed him to help her down from her horse. “Come; we will take a turn through the garden and talk if you’re not too tired,” the king invited.
Trista curtseyed. “Of course, your majesty.”
She shot a smug glance at her stunned aunt and uncle as she walked away leaning on the king’s arm.
Once in the garden, however, he turned to her and said seriously, “You should be cautious of provoking your family, Lady Trista. I understand your position is somewhat precarious.”
“I’ll be all right, Ill-I mean, your majesty.” Trista stumbled over the name.
Illian laughed. “Just ‘Illian’ is all right when we are alone, Lady Trista. Why should friends like us stand on ceremony? At least, I hope I may call you a friend.”
“Of course, Illian. And please, call me Trista as you always did,” the girl replied impulsively.
She studied his face. There were new worry lines in it that his great responsibilities had brought him. And his eyes were remarkably sad even when he smiled. She asked, “Are you well, Illian?”
“Quite well. That is to say, I have the same headaches I have always had since the war, but other than that, I am perfectly fine. And you, Trista? You seem as passionate and determined as ever. It was always quite remarkable to me that you and my sister were so close, considering how very different you are.”
Trista jumped at the chance. “Well, since you brought her up, shall we talk about Kathryn, Illian?” suggested.
He paused and glanced up at the moon. “It’s late. Why spoil such a beautiful night by talking about things that can’t be changed?”
“I don’t believe there’s no way to change it,” Trista said firmly.
“Then you are naive.” He turned to look at her, his dark eyes boring into hers. “I am not the sort of king who changes my mind once I have made an order. If I thought there was another option, I would not have banished her in the first place. But now that I have, there is no possibility of reconciliation.”
“That’s not fair. Kathryn did every bit as much for this country as you did! She was the one who-”
“Don’t tell me about what Kathryn did!”
The sudden sharpness in his tone startled her, and she stopped short to stare at him. His face was hard, unlike she had ever seen it before. But the hardness disappeared in a second and he said more gently, “I am well aware that she had a hand in helping the country during the war, and particularly the common folk. But the decision has already been made. I will not lead my country into another war with Navinor. If Kathryn must pay the price, then so be it. I can only strongly suggest that you do not get involved.”
Angry tears surged in her eyes that she refused to let fall, and Trista struggled to find words. He turned his back on her. “As happy as I am to see you, I think you should return home, Trista.”
“Is that a command, your majesty?”
Illian glanced over his shoulder and saw the mixture of anger and stubbornness in her face. He sighed. “No, it’s not a command. I’m always happy to have you around, Trista. But it won’t help your relationship with your family-”
“Then I’ll stay. I’m not giving up on you. And I’m not giving up on Kathryn.”
Trista swept past him and he watched her go. He cursed under his breath. “What is it with this girl?” he muttered. “Why is everyone always talking about Kathryn?”
It was as if he could hear his father’s last words whispering in his brain. “Kathryn…” The death rattle, speaking the only name that had mattered to him in that moment.
Illian stood there in the garden with the moonlight shining down on him for several minutes, not speaking, not moving. The name pounded in his brain. Ren said it. His father said it. His mother’s last letter to him while he was on the battlefield said it. Kathryn. Kathryn. Kathryn. Always Kathryn, over and over.
Trista was given a suite of rooms in the palace and treated unusually well for a minor lady visiting the king. She was a bit confused by it, as well as by the fact that Illian invited her to dine with him nearly every meal. He only ever wanted to talk about the old days; about the time when they were horseback riding together and her horse threw her and he rushed to her rescue, about the time that he and her older brother had gotten into a fight.
Each time Trista tried to mention Kathryn, Illian only said, “Not now, Trista; I’ve got a great deal on my mind with the coronation, you understand.”
The night before the coronation, Illian called for her to walk with him in the garden once again. Several guards followed at a close distance, and Trista remarked, “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were bringing me out here to get rid of me.”
Illian laughed. “You’re so very suspicious! I simply want to take extra precautions. A good many of the people here supported Kathryn as the successor in the event of my death, and some of them would even profit were she to be crowned queen. So I wouldn’t be wise to leave myself open.”
“Do you think I would try to kill you, Illian?” Trista was hurt.
He laughed again and patted her on the head. “Of course not. We’ve already established we’re friends, haven’t we?”
She brushed his hand away. “Don’t treat me like a child,” she snapped.
“My mistake. But after all, while I was away fighting war, you were at home learning embroidery and playing with dolls,” he reminded her.
Trista grimaced, wishing she could contradict him. At last she said, “Playing with dolls…until the day we heard news of David.”
Illian froze, and an expression of deep pain crossed his face. “Ah yes…David. I was with him that day.”
“So I had heard, Illian, but you never seemed willing to speak about his death.” Trista had to crane her neck to look up at him, as he was considerably taller than her. “It broke me. I thought my world was coming to an end…my doting big brother. And then my two other brothers followed him when the second war came.”
Her voice choked up and she fought back tears. Illian put an arm around her shoulders without a word, and they stood in silence for several minutes. At last Illian said, “I was not able to be with your other brothers when they died, but I held David in my arms.”
Trista started. “Did he…say anything to you?” she began.
Then she realized Illian’s gaze had changed; he was staring into the darkness with an expression of dread and pity, and his grip on her hand was almost painful. “Illian?”
He shook his head to clear it. “No, he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t able to.”
“Was he…in pain?” Trista dreaded hearing the answer to the question that had haunted her all these years.
Illian hesitated. At last he said, “Yes.”
Trista flinched and pulled away from him to hide her face.
“I’m sorry. Should I not have told you the truth?” Illian asked gently. “I didn’t mean-”
“No, it’s all right.” She brushed angrily at her eyes. “It’s fine. I’d rather you were honest with me. No one else ever is.”
Illian was quiet until she had composed herself enough to turn back to him. She asked, “How exactly did he die?”
“He had lost an arm and been stabbed through the chest. He was bleeding to death. I knew I couldn’t help him. So I simply sat with him. I was glad when he was finally losing consciousness and the pain was fading. And I talked to him. I told him that his family back home wanted him to survive. That I didn’t want him to leave. That I-” Illian broke off. His face was pale, and he seemed to be having trouble breathing.
Trista said softly, “Illian. Let’s talk about something else.”
He quickly stirred himself and started to say, “No, it’s really all right-”
Just then, one of the guards behind him said, “Your majesty, someone is approaching.”
Illian stiffened and one hand went to his sword as with his other hand he grabbed Trista’s arm and pulled her behind him. But the person who was approaching turned out to be one of the visiting nobles touring the garden, who hastily bowed. “I’m sorry, your majesty; I didn’t realize you were walking here.”
“It’s fine,” Illian said calmly. “But please remember that this garden is my private space. There is no reason for you to be here.”
“Of course, sir. Forgive me.” As the nobleman lifted his head, Trista’s eyes dropped to his hand and she saw the small blade as it glinted in the moonlight.
“Illian, look out!” But before the words had even escaped her lips, one of the guards dashed in front of Illian and struck the nobleman’s hand. The other guards grabbed the attempted assassin and wrestled him to the ground.
Illian did not even flinch during the encounter. He stood there, staring down at the man with eyes filled with bitter anger and scorn. “Did you really think that would work?” he said coldly.
The nobleman cursed and struggled. “You don’t deserve the crown! You don’t deserve it!” he shrieked. “You may be a fine killer on the battlefield, but your sister is the one who gave us peace. And now you’re undoing all her work by destroying the treaty.”
Illian whitened. “How do you know about that?” he asked quietly.
The nobleman spat on the ground. “I’ll die before I’ll tell you. Just know, you will never be safe. Never! You don’t deserve-”
“Take him away and interrogate him,” Illian snapped. “Keep this matter quiet, but search all empty rooms and keep a special eye on anyone affiliated with this man. Arrest all who arrived with him.”
As the guards obeyed, Trista began, “Illian, he was going to kill you!”
Illian turned on her. “Go to your room and stay there,” he said sharply.
“What? Why?”
He gripped her arm. “Do as you’re told, Lady Trista! And I think you should leave as soon as the coronation is over.”
“Illian, you’re not making any sense!”
“Leave!” He pushed her away roughly, and she stumbled and fell. Instead of helping her, he walked away and left her.
She sat in the flowers, struggling to control her whirling thoughts and emotions. But finally she couldn’t anymore and she began to cry bitterly. She lay down in the flowerbed and buried her face in it, sobbing. She stayed there until her handmaid came looking for her.
“Lady Trista!” the handmaid exclaimed in horror. She tried to brush the dirt off of her dress. “Come inside, Lady Trista. We must go inside.”
Trista looked up at her without a word and then struggled to her feet. “Yes, we must go inside,” she muttered.
An hour later, after she’d had a bath and her handmaid was brushing her hair, Trista stared into the mirror over her vanity, trying to understand what had happened.
The assassination attempt seemed to have triggered something in Illian. A deep, almost primal sense of self-protection that had caused him to lash out. Trista suspected it was this same sense and mistrust that had caused him to banish his sister.
Perhaps he had been betrayed during the war, she thought. Perhaps he had experienced so much betrayal that it had warped his senses of friendship and safety. And if that was the case, how on earth could she reach him? How could she help? Or perhaps more importantly, was it even possible for anyone to help him?
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