The Exiles

23. War Plans

"... the unrest has been rumbling like a serpent in slumber for years..." their uncle said in an urgent hush, a hush that echoed in the large and empty hall after supper.

"... it started soon after your exile... the south never accepted Rava's reign..." their aunt added, in equal urgency. "We're not just saying it because these are our lands..."

"... the time is ripe, Ovek. You must declare him a false king and take back your kingdom. Get our Rita back safely..." suggested Grandma Anteri, pounding her little golden walking stick on the slate floor. "How dare he touch her as if she's his... I do not understand why the ancient oaths of marriage haven't scalded his skin..."

"... those are old wives' tales, Mother. No such magic exists anymore..." Uncle Rea said in confusion.

"... Forget old magic..." Granny cleared her throat. "I've been saying since the beginning... he somehow got in their heads with his weaving, the elders. Hundred-year exile? No one's ever heard of such a thing... and for what? An innocent child's weaving that brought forth a monster any trained weapons weaver could bring down?" Granny too added. "Injustice, whichever way you slice it."

For the children listening, it was a surprise to hear her passion for the injustice as they huddled behind the thick curtain before the door, a door they'd meant to leave through after dinner but hadn't. They thought she'd retired to bed when they hadn't seen her at dinner.

"All that hankering to build a prison world as if it was the worst thing ever to be woven... Show. It was all for show, like a charlatan... and who dealt with that too in the end? His pompous mistake? You did. You and the boys did. You put your lives in the crosshairs, those boys who aren't yet soldiers!" Granny eyed the curtains as a foot accidentally nudged the draping. "No one fought for your family then, but now they will."

"Aye. We must make haste, Ovek. Strike while the iron's glowing. Rava knows you're back. He'll also know we'll give you and your family shelter." Amer watched his uncle pace at the head of the table. "Word will reach all corners soon, a day or two. Ovek the Merciful's returns. Our world needs it, dear brother. It's been far too dark without you, these past thirty years... He will ready his army. So just we..."

"Thirty? Did Uncle Rea say thirty?" Attin asked in shock as his brother stood before him, peering through the curtain they hid behind. "Have we been gone thirty years? How is that possible?"

"Shush, or you'll give us away!" Ursa threw her hand over his mouth.

"But how?" Attin still mumbled beneath her hand.

"Because time works differently here than it does on earth." Amer turned. "Now shut up, or I'll send you to join the kids in the bedchambers, to sing them a lullaby or tell them a bedtime story. We know how you love those."

"You would not!" Attin gasped as Ursa let go.

Amer eyed him savagely, daringly. Speak again and we shall see just how serious I am.

"What do you suggest we do?" Their father stared at the fire roaring in the hearth, the only source of light there. "I can't just walk into my kingdom, to my old throne, and demand he hand over the crown and my wife. He's coveted both far too long."

"For once, Ovek the Merciful, you must show no mercy." Rea's wife joined Ovek by the fire. "If she means more to you than that gilded seat, show no mercy, brother."

She took his hands in hers and gripped it tight. She leaned her forehead against his and whispered, not that the children could hear it. "You swore by the sacred fire to honour her till your last breath, my dear brother. Do you remember?"

Ovek nodded.

Attin got agitated. "What are they saying?"

Ursa and Amer were tempted to boot him out entirely if they knew such an action wouldn't give away their position.

And Ovek's sister, Orsana, squeezed her brother's hand again. "Do you remember how we used to fight for the throne when we were little, Ovi? As if it was a possession that was ours to keep."

Ovek nodded again. How could he not remember such a fond memory? They'd always get in trouble with their mother for fighting over such silly things. She'd say, 'The throne isn't some heirloom passed down to kin. It is a responsibility to do the right thing when the time comes; to do the right thing for your subjects, even if it costs you everything.'

He'd done the right thing once, to avoid the bloodshed of his people. To gain their trust again, to allow them to feel safe. And look what it resulted in, his land in turmoil, his people aggrieved, scared, oppressed.

"Well, Rava needs to learn that lesson, too. That the throne isn't a toy to be fought over like children. It isn't his to possess as if it were a thing. Our little brother must learn that even royals own nothing." Orsana straightened, resolute, staring at her older brother. "When you gave me away in marriage, brother, you gave me two promises to redeem when I see fit. A promise of a father we lost—as is tradition—and a brother's promise. I've never claimed either. I shall like to claim one tonight."

The children saw their father snap to attention. Though Orsana and Ovek were nearly the same height, he stood taller. "Name it, sister, and with my body and soul, I shall make it so or die by the power of my oath."

"What oath is Father talking about?" Ursa asked in a hush, almost making Attin jump.

"What's he saying?" Attin asked, curious as a bee. "What's the power of the oath?"

"It's a custom at our weddings." Amer turned to his siblings, hardness setting into his jawline. "All Cerulean fathers promise the bride, that when she calls them to her aid, whatever it shall be, they will not deny it, for the oath is made sacred by the fire, and shall destroy the one who can't keep it." He smiled weakly at Ursa. "If there is no father of the bride, then the eldest brother has the sacred duty."

"You mean, you shall make such an oath if—" Ursa couldn't finish her thought, for her heart had leapt to her throat.

"—if father shall perish before you marry." Amer nodded. "Aye."

"I thought oaths were just words," Attin mumbled in shock, for he'd been of the thought that they were mere promises one made with words.

"Not here." Amer turned his attention back to the hall, back to the elders discussing war. "Here, they can give you life, or take it away..."

"How would one die?" Attin stared at the back of his brother's head in horror.

"Your luck leaves you... or so they say. Now shush. Let us listen to what Orsana asks, for she may hold our fates in her hands right now..."

And wasn't that the whole truth, for what Orsana Anteri was about to ask of her brother, would change the entire course of history that was about to unfold.

Of War? Or Peace?

So no wonder the children keenly listened. It was no longer about just rescuing Mama. It was much more. So much more. It was about their people, the people they were bound by oath to protect, the Chymers.