Years ago I had my revenge, and reclaimed my kingdom from the Usurper who murdered my father. Edeva Delsor, his only daughter, managed to escape me. When she is found nearly twelve years later, I agree to marry her rather than execute her. But the m...
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ALEKSO
I can hear the anxious trembling of Marius, the older man's sword smacking against the armor of his leg with an annoying clang. He keeps his hands folded in front of him as he attempts to subtly wring out the front of his tabard. I glance up towards him with a raised eyebrow. The light in here is dim at best, with only a few candles clustered about the corners of the room, if you could call them corners. If you could even call it a room.
It is a cave, nestled deep within the woods of Previtzia, a small village on the edge of my kingdom.
Well, of what should be my kingdom. I have been fighting for my birthright for almost two years, ever since Henry I, a wealthy merchant and socialite but still a commoner, stole it from my father when I was nine. I was to be killed just as my brothers were, but none knew I had an affinity for magic. Too young to fight, I hid from my enemies, and then ran to the outskirts of Mercia with a guardsman. I had allies; people who did not benefit from Henry's conservative rule, but also those who felt a man of low birth was not fit to rule an entire country. When I was of an age when I could fight, I attacked with all the numbers I mustered. Unfortunately, after these long two years, whatever lands I was able to establish a hold on are faltering. My rebellion is losing its strength.
"I ask we find another way, my prince." Marius manages out, distracting me from my thoughts. "Your magic is still growing; you have yet to discover your core abilities. You do not have to do this."
A blade presses in to my forearm. I kneel in front of a summoning circle made of salt with a candle at its center. The design is intricate, swirling patterns with pointed ends. Behind me is a dirt covered yet lovely old witch, wielding my own dagger to draw my blood. She chants softly in the Old Tongue, feeling my hesitation and not yet pulling the blade back. I must be absolutely sure.
Narrowing his eyes, my uncle Jean gives a sharp elbow to the side of Marius. "Boy," he says to me with that exasperated tone, "You know what you must do. Restore the glory of the Aurelians. Avenge your father and your brothers. Make the Delsors pay for what they did to us."
I think of my father; the look in his eyes as Henry ran a sword through him. "For Mercia," Henry had said.
My father, Jarrett XIV, was not a particularly good king, especially after the death of my mother, but he didn't deserve to die as he did. Neither did my brothers. If Henry and his men had seen me, I would have been dead, too. To them, any Aurelian no matter how young was a threat. I wasn't even the youngest. Dimitri was only five.
That thought alone is enough to cement my decision. Little Dimitri. My father watched a guard snap his neck. I want Henry to watch me snap his child's neck, destroying his legacy, too. He's lucky he only has one daughter, so he can't be tortured the way my father was.
"Do it." I say quietly to the witch.
Her chanting doesn't cease, but as soon as I finish speaking, the knife slices in to my skin and the blood spatters all over the bottom of the design drawn in front of me. I make no noise, though I do wince from the pain. Those who stand behind me; Marius, Jean, and several guards take a step back against the dirt walls around us. Some blood landed on the candle in the center of the circle, and I watch as it goes out for but a second or two, before it relights in black flame.
