Page 1 of Chaos and Destiny
Chapter 1
KING TOLERO
Two thousand years was an exceptionally long time to live, but it was an even longer time to rule.
I moved my aged hands through the long blades of grass covered in dewdrops and wished the memories were more tangible. Everything was fleeting when time passed slower than the sun. It seemed the moments I wanted to remember most were barely there, and the ones I didn’t want to remember at all would never leave me. I placed my palm to the dirt and wished the gods would give her back to me.
“Do you remember, my love? The things that I cannot. Do you hold those moments for me?”
I stood and cleaned myself of the soil from that most sacred isle, the land that would one day hold my ashes until the wind carried them far, far away. I never thought it was fair that a mate could die and leave the other behind. I’d wanted to die every day from my broken heart and severed soul, yet still, I remained. The gods were not done with me yet.
“It feels the same, Efi. Our son is grown and gone, and they said in time I’d heal and one day breathe normally, but the absence of you has never lessened. The gaping wound in my soul remains, in case you were wondering.”
I spent more time on Efi’s Isle than I should have. I knew an entire kingdom needed me as much as I needed them, but certain long days were harder without her than others. My mate. Gone far too soon and far too fast. I never recovered from the loss of her. One day she walked the palace halls with light and laughter flowing behind her, and within days of that, she was gone. Poisoned. There were no answers to her death. My son would never come to the isle. He stood in his rooms at the palace and watched her funeral pyre burn from a heartbreaking distance. He never healed, but I supposed neither had I. Perhaps I was to blame.
I laid a fresh wreath of silvery flowers on the pile with all of the old ones and rowed back across the calm waters of the bay, leaving half of my heart behind, as I always did. Somewhere, deep within me, a tiger rested. I locked him in a cage the moment I lost her, and he had since slumbered.
“Your Grace.” Inok bowed and took the wooden oar.
He was my hand. But more than that, he was my brother in all things but blood. He was far younger than I was, but then most of the fae were.
“Thank you, Inok.” I patted him on the back as he handed my lengthy staff to me. I would have liked to say it was for royal vestment, but in truth, it was just a glorified walking stick. “We’re getting too old for this walk, my friend,” I said as I began the trek up the red sand hill toward the palace.
“We are getting too old for many things.” He chuckled.
“You know what I was thinking about today? What is the benefit of living this long? At what point in our lives do we just welcome the blade and move on?”
“We’ve surpassed it,” he huffed beside me.
“That we have.”
“Do you feel the tension in the air? The animosity and uproars from the north? Does it remind you of the Iron Wars?” I asked as my staff sank into the shifting sand.
He looked at me a bit surprised but did not answer right away. I had learned there was truth in silence. Especially with Inok, who observed more than he spoke. He held wisdom in his fawn-colored eyes and showed it through his ash-colored beard. He had aged well.
“I wish I could say otherwise, but it does feel similar. Some days the news is worse than I remember it being. Do you think we are ready, my king?”
“I’ve done everything I can for the last fifty years to remove the Flame Court from the northern hostility, as you know.” We stepped into the cool shadow of the castle, the relief from the scorching sun welcome.
“Do you think sending Fenlas north changes that? Do you think the northern fae pushing into our kingdom does? You may do all you wish, my king, but do not think for one moment they don’t have a target on us.”
He was right, of course.
“I really wish you wouldn’t call them northern fae, Inok. Just as we do not address our people as lesser and higher, like they do in the north, we will not draw a geographic line between types of fae,” I said, pausing.
“Apologies, Your Grace. But you’re missing the point. Do you remember during the Iron Wars, when King Autus took the entire northern territory? It was because the former king, King Graf thought he was immune to Autus’ hatred. He thought if he hid behind his walls, his neighbor would not see him as a threat. Where is he now?”
“Graf is dead because he was playing a game he had no right to play. Autus believed that land to be his own. His mother was the rightful heir, and Graf refused to yield because Autus already ruled the Wind Court.”
“No right? I believe half of the Wind Court would disagree with you. Graf held the kingdom because Autus’ mother chose to leave.”
I shook my head. “A thousand years ago, the Iron Wars were long and brutal. I don’t wish to repeat that. The northern kingdom were as savage as the blizzards that consumed them. Autus’ court was small, Inok. He took the western half of the north and doubled his size.”
“Precisely.” He planted his feet, and his pointed look did not escape me. “The fae are talking, Your Grace. He’s itching for war. He wants the whole world.”
“Greedy fae always want what they cannot have. He won’t have it. Just as he was denied that privilege a thousand years ago. I don’t fear him. Even now. Even when they talk and the air feels the same as it did. The Flame Court is a long way from the Wind Court.”
The low tones of desperation in his pleading voice caught my waning attention as he continued. “You must do something, King. It took him fifty years of bloodshed to be pushed back into his frozen hole. He’s been scheming ever since. I promise you that. He’s betrothed to Morwena now. That will make him king of the sea as well. He will rival the numbers of the Marsh and Flame Court then. And so far, Coro isn’t doing a thing to stop him.”
