Page 40 of The Night Prince 3
“The city… that’s…” Elasha began.
“Illithor!” Darcassan crowed with dark delight. “I told you! I told everyone! I was right! There it is! Just waiting for us!”
Declan stepped through the rift first. His eyes were locked on the purple towers that had been in his dreams since he was a young boy. They called to him. Sang in his blood.
Welcome home, my Rahven.
History
Aquilan was next through the rift after Declan. He had no intention of letting the young man be in the Under Dark on his own for a moment longer than necessary. Nothing before had–and nothing else would have–lured him to that dark and deadly place since his parents’ deaths. Only his concern for Declan propelled him now. He could not imagine wanting to be in the Under Dark where life, though scarce, was often cheap. Declan didn’t belong there. No matter what his heritage was.
I am a hypocrite. Or worse.
That thought thundered in his head. It repeated on a loop.
I killed those Kindreth that came to the Lieran Plane easily before simply because they were Kindreth. But because I know Declan–allowed myself to know him without prejudice–I cannot imagine lifting a hand against him.
It had been easy to paint those who had snuck into the Lieran Plane as interlopers at best, spies most likely, and assassins at worst. But what if they hadn’t been? What if they really had been bringing him a message of warning? Of friendship?
But back then, lashing out at those others was not a question when pain seared my vision. Or was it guilt? But what if those others deserved mercy too? What if I treated their lives as cheap because they were Kindreth?
The thing was that when he had asked Helgrom about the other meaning behind The Forever Hunt he hadn’t bristled with anger over Vex. He’d wanted to know more even though his brother had been so certain that the Night King had killed their parents. In a way, he was like Finley with an appetite to learn of the Kindreth king. But he hadn’t allowed himself to feel it for a very long time.
“Of course, that foul, disgusting Night King slaughtered our parents!” Vesslan had shouted after they’d heard the news. He’d pumped his fists into the air. Lightning had crashed outside as the heavens had poured down rain as if to weep for their loss. Aquilan had collapsed on the floor. “It could only be him! They naively sought him out–”
“But why?” Aquilan asked that one time. “Why did they seek him out? For what purpose?”
Vesslan stared at him as if he’d had two heads. “You are asking me that, Aquilan?”
His eyes wet with tears and his throat raw with crying, Aquilan nodded. “O-Of course. How could I not want to know the reason for our parents’ deaths?”
“You claim that you do not know already?” Vesslan’s expression was shadowed. His mouth drawn together into a pinched line. His right hand dropped to his chin to stroke it. Aquilan had seen him like this when dealing with political opponents that he thought were lying. It was unnerving to be looked at that way by his beloved elder brother.
“I don’t! Brother, why would you think I would? They didn’t tell me anything! If they had confessed to me their plans, I would have argued against them going at the very least. And if they had persisted in their plans, I would have gone with them myself!” Aquilan thumped his chest. “You must believe that of me! I wouldn’t have let them go into the dark alone!”
Something had flitted across his elder brother’s face. Something too fast to catch. His eyes had become opaque. “Of course, you wouldn’t.”
His shoulders relaxed. “I did not even know they were leaving until they were gone.”
“Yes, yes, quite. Well, they would never have brought you into it for it was no pleasure excursion.” That stung, but Aquilan said nothing in response. With an airy wave of his left hand, Vesslan proclaimed, “It was a question of territory and artifacts–”
“Our parents went into the Under Dark for some–some trinkets?” Aquilan blurted out.
He was shocked, horrified and, quite frankly, disbelieving that their parents would undertake such a dangerous journey for artifacts. Their parents–unlike Darcassan and a great many others–did not believe in magical accessories. They trusted only in their own innate gifts. But those had been naturally great so perhaps it was easy for them to discard the idea of supplementing their power with something outside themselves.
Vesslan’s temper flared like a lit match at being gainsaid. “And territory! Like I said–”
“What territory?” Aquilan pressed, not willing to let his brother’s beliefs override the truth. Not this time. It was too important to let his brother’s prickly nature dictate what he asked. “Vex has not left the Under Dark in an age! What do we have or does he have that would overlap?”
Vesslan put a hand on Aquilan’s shoulder and squeezed it so hard that Aquilan nearly cried out in pain. It had, undoubtedly, been an accident. Vesslan wouldn’t hurt him on purpose. “Don’t worry about it, dearest brother! It is all ruling business and you will not have to bother yourself about it in the least when I am Sun King. I will get our revenge. Go back to your singing.”
Singing? I wept and did not sing for a year.
And his brother had not been made Sun King. Aquilan had. The truth was that he hadn’t even toyed with the idea about going after Vex for their parents’ deaths. Perhaps it was that, which had caused him to lash out at the first Kindreth he had ever seen. So unexpected to see them on Lieran’s fertile, golden plains. Guilt had speared through him. He had not gone after his parents’ killer so the Kindreth thought to come here to his home, to the center of the Aravae universe, without leave? It would not stand! He would have…
My vengeance… Was that it? Was that why I killed without mercy or remorse? At least at the time?
He had regretted those actions ever since he’d allowed himself to use the power of the Sun to turn most of the Kindreth to ash in moments. He’d wondered–feared–that his loss of temper had doomed humanity. Now, he didn’t think so. But perhaps they had come to warn him of the wards’ failure. Perhaps they had come for many, many things that would have been useful or good. He would never know, because he had acted out of hatred and guilt.
