CHAPTER 2

A second, and even a third glass of wine couldn’t shake the sense of disquiet that had grown steadily since the execution in the square. The storm hit near the end of dinner, fueling the dread that lay in my heart, and an unrelenting chill led me to find a warm wrap before I headed to the library where Father and the rest of my family would be awaiting whatever announcement Father had.

A gust of wind shook the house, and the splatter of the rain hitting the windows sent another chill down my spine. The house had darkened quickly with the gathering storm, and now our servants scurried around the villa to light all the lamps. The smells of dinner mingled with the scent of rain as the humidity permeated the air.

The fire blazed in the library and Father stood near the hearth, brows tightly knit together in his brooding state. “Lord Llew of the House of Egon” was his title, but to me he was simply Father. He was not one for making grandiose announcements, unlike most of the aristocracy who thrived on theatrical speeches. His many years on the battlefield made him prone to bluntness and practicality and while he curbed his tongue well enough in social situations, he failed as often as he succeeded and regretted the dramatics that typically followed.

That was one trait I shared with my father: diplomacy was not his strong point, nor was it mine though I did try. My redeeming quality was my abhorrence of drama even more than Father.

Father gripped a goblet of wine, the cup already nearly empty as he worked up the needed determination to make his announcement. Liquid courage, we had often jested, though I knew the few times he needed his liquid courage were well warranted. This announcement is no small matter, I realized as I took a seat on the couch. Father glanced at me, giving me a weak smile though he said nothing. He took another sip.

Iolyn sauntered into the library with Brynmor, chattering quietly and chuckling at some private joke before they split, Iolyn settling himself comfortably into a seat at the desk. Brynmor wove his way through the furniture to find a place behind me, opting to lean casually against a table laden with books.

Rhian came into the library meandering slightly in her path as her head swiveled to look around the room. Fidgeting as she made her way past Iolyn and Brynmor, she slowed only a little to give Brynmor a slight smile and a polite curtsy. Brynmor flashed her a grin and gave her a little wink, and I couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed. I suspected Rhian was developing a little crush, and him encouraging those feelings was becoming problematic.

Not to say that Brynmor and I didn’t have our own friendship. Knowing him my entire life had lent itself to him being more like an older brother than a guard. His reaction after I slipped out of the house to meet in secret with a boy that I had fancied, catching (and interrupting) my first kiss with humiliating flourish was far from guard-like, though eventually I forgave him. Mostly.

Rhian sat next to me on the couch, worry in her eyes. I patted her hand reassuringly before giving it a squeeze and she relaxed a little, her thin frame losing a little of its stiffness. I was glad that her anxiety could be eased so quickly, my own growing and bringing a restlessness that would not fade.

Father cleared his throat, lifting himself from the mantle to face us with a grim visage. Lightning flashed and thunder cracked ominously in that moment, perhaps nature itself knowing what was to come and voicing its own warning before he could bring himself to speak. It felt like an omen, and I wondered if the gods themselves were frowning upon this twist of fate.

“I have decided that our family will leave Taurova and head West.” Father stated bluntly, his gruff voice resounding more than usual, and we stared in shock. “As I’m sure you have heard, the old rumors have come back to haunt our family once again and I have come to accept there is no freedom from them. The widow of my late comrade has once again set the eyes of the City Guard on me, claiming new evidence of my guilt in his demise. It will be proven as nothing like every other shred of so-called evidence she has managed to muster up, but the damage has long been done, and we must accept that she has, in a way, won.” His announcement was met with utter silence.

He took a breath and let out a weighted sigh as he kept going. “That, and with the enemy infiltrating our very haven of safety and the riots that ensue, I fear for our wellbeing.” I wondered if he had been at the execution earlier, and knew more than we did about the chaos that followed?

“There is no longer a life for us here.” He continued with a gentler tone, looking around to meet the gaze of each one of us. “There are no marital matches for any of you, as nobody wishes to involve themselves with our problems. With every round of rumors, the willingness of other families shrinks all the more, and now there are none who will even consider linking their House to ours. There is but one choice left, and we will take it. Begin packing your things, taking only what is needed. The remainder of our things will be packed or sold and will be sent once we are settled in a new home. We depart in two weeks.”

None dared to breathe as our minds worked to comprehend his words. I could only stare at Father as the full magnitude of what he was suggesting finally settled heavily on me, that pit of dread now a solid stone in my stomach. Leave Perinthas? Leave Taurova? This is our home! Our birthright! How dare he even suggest leaving?

The sense of foreboding increased as the rain pounded against the windows, and I couldn’t breathe. Another, even more unwelcome, thought penetrated my confusion. Exactly how far West does he mean? All I could do was hold my breath as the room seemed to erupt around me.

“H-how can you do this? I d-don’t want to move!” Rhian sniffled next to me, using her sleeve to dab at her eyes, though I had nothing left in me to provide her with any solace. Brynmor slowly moved in behind her to rest a comforting palm on her shoulder, handing her a handkerchief. Rhian stammered. “I like living here! All my friends are here!” She sniffled and took the handkerchief from Brynmor, dabbing at her eyes quickly, trying to hide her distress.

Father’s tone grew acerbic. “Yes, this has been our home for generations and while we are a proud noble House, what has it gotten us, child?” Rhian went quiet, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. His words were a stark reminder of the history of our House, each past generation had made it all the stronger both in wealth and influence. They had built so much from so little, but with the accusation that wouldn’t die, our name was vastly weakened, and the power of our House was diminishing swiftly.

He turned, looking now to the stone-faced Iolyn who sat rigidly with his lips pressed into a thin, angry line. Father’s voice was controlled as he asked for Iolyn’s thoughts. “And what objection do you have, son?”

Iolyn gritted his teeth before saying tightly. “All of my friends are here, and I am trying to gain acceptance into the Jewelers’ Guild. I could become one of the greatest crafters of fine jewelry, Father, but that will never happen if I am uprooted and moved to some gods-forsaken town.”

“I’m sure wherever we end up will have a forge and a hall where you can continue your hobby.” Father grunted, placing more emphasis on the word ‘hobby.’ “As for your friends, they are lazy, gambling drunkards who prevent you from being useful. Good riddance to them!” he said sourly. Iolyn looked affronted, lips parting to argue, though his voice halted, knowing arguing was pointless.

What if Father is right? What if there really is nothing left for us here? The silence in the room was thick, punctuated only by the sounds of the storm outside. Father continued softly. “We have a chance to make a fresh start...to begin in a place where people know nothing of these accusations and of our dishonor. It is our only hope of finding acceptance again and our only way to find spouses for you three and prevent our family line from dying out entirely.” Rhian gave Father a miserable nod and looked down at her hands in her lap. Iolyn’s lips pressed together, and he stared at the hearth.

Father’s eyes fell to me, his gaze holding my own as he awaited my temperamental opinion on why this was a dreadful idea. He awaited my condemnation and anger, my indignation and outright refusal, and while I felt each one of those things, I was silent. Our eyes remained locked, and I had a clear choice before me. To object or to accept the move.

A thousand thoughts ran through my mind, all the reasons to stay screaming at me, their volume equal to their reasoning. We are Highborn! This is our home. We hold beautiful land in the provinces. We have friends and family that we would be leaving behind. Where could we possibly go where we would have a life such as this? I knew our history — our realm was established when the first Velynesian settlers came to this land, fighting and dying to claim it as our home and despite all our adversity, I couldn’t imagine leaving the legacy we had earned behind, not after everything my ancestors had fought so hard to achieve. This is our birthright...we cannot leave.

The silence hung heavily in the room as everyone awaited my response. I released the breath I had been holding. “I will go pack my things,” I said with a controlled calm that I did not feel. My words surprised even me, as all the reasons...