The Crossing (Book One)

Chapter Forty: Nim's Legacy

Defeated, he collapsed onto the chair, eyes closed. But peace eluded him. The doors of his room were slammed back open. Will the heavens not grant me a moment's rest?  Valdor had no need to move or open his eyes, the gush of wind and stride alone told him who it was. "Greetings, cousin." He exhaled noisily.

Landros looked anything but pleased at seeing his cousin. He stood in a hostile stance above him, dark brows knitted together over a chiseled nose and eyes darker than coal. "Of all the foolish, inconsiderate stunts you have pulled; this tops them all. Where have you been?" Landros did not yell. There was no need.

His voice a much deeper pitch than his cousin's held a tone that demanded immediate obedience. Disappointment and scathing anger in a low voice were much more effective in producing fast and keen results from his advisers. They lived in fear of the day he'd ever raise his voice.

Valdor peeked one eye open and saw his cousin glaring down at him, immaculate as ever with his ebony hair tied back and braided, wearing a navy blue and white concoction that made him every bit the part of royalty. He could not help the groan that escaped him.

Resigned, he opened his eyes and shrugged knowing that no answer he gave would be satisfactory. "Traveling."

Landros breathed deeply and Valdor knew he was just getting started. "You went missing for over two months with no explanation of where you'd be or why you left. Again."

Valdor became exasperated. "I'm not a child, cousin. And I definitely do not need you as my nursemaid scolding me."

"You certainly act like one. Answer me. Why did you leave? Where have you been?" He repeated.

Valdor stared at him unmoved. "I'd assumed the why was obvious."

"We had a disagreement. It was not the first and I am certain it will not be the last. Why not move past this?" Landros could not begin to understand his cousin.

Valdor rose and met him eye to eye. "Perhaps, because I cannot just sweep away the deaths of innocents as easily as you."

"It is not our war." Landros growled, refusing to turn away. "We've had this discussion before."

"Yes, and once again you turn your back on those who need us. And you've tied my hands so that I cannot help." It was not the first time Valdor accused him of that. It was a rivalry that had developed only in recent years. Their views as to responsibility differed greatly.

"Or you could worry more about your people here." Landros shot back. "We have our own troubles within these borders. Perhaps when you start acting like the prince you are Valdor, and accept your responsibilities, you'll see it differently."

"And what if I did? Eh? You're not worried that the crown may pass to me once our grandfather dies?" He countered, deliberately baiting him and walking away.

"I am the eldest." A fact that was indisputable.

"By three miserable weeks you pompous ass. Otherwise I'd be first in line for the crown, not you." He saw Landros about to speak but held up his hands. "Of course, everyone knows that in reality you have been running the kingdom for the past year while our grandfather's health fades. Kai'lym has you. It does not need me."

Landros placed his hand on Valdor's shoulder, choosing to let the insult pass. "You are wrong. King Prathios' health is now diminishing rapidly. He is beyond any of our healings." He squeezed his shoulder. "He goes to join our fathers soon. Kai'lym needs you."

Valdor shook his head stubbornly. It was people that made up a kingdom and not its borders. "I'll be here. For whatever comes." He walked toward the balcony and braced his arms along the edge.