““We all make mistakes, but one moment doesn’t define us forever. It’s how we respond in the aftermath that does.””
Burden, Book Two of The King’s Renegade
Chapter One, Colin (Spoiler Free if you haven’t read Asunder)
“Today should’a been spent celebrating my engagement,” Colin whined, slumping into a stiff armchair. He let the hard wood dig into his ribs, uninterested in comfort. He’d watched the Ammosian ship sail in, his heart fluttering in anticipation of finally meeting his love—his future. Princess Mayli.
They had written for months, counting the days until they would be in each other’s arms. But when the ship finally docked, the princess wasn’t aboard. Instead, her mother, Queen Margaret of Ammos, stepped off. Pursed lips and hardened eyes scowled as if he were some mangy mutt crossing her path. In truth, she judged his family as far worse: illegitimate royals leeching off Vatan.
And then, she’d refused him her daughter’s hand.
Glasses clinked as his cousin Briar plucked a bottle of mead from the bar cart nestled in the corner of the study. “Aye, but now the three of us can celebrate that you’re not getting married!” He popped the cork, eyebrows wiggling.
Dominick, Colin’s brother, lifted a glass. “Cheers to that.” Suited in his doublet, one button undone, he looked as refined as their father, despite not yet being of age to be crested.
“Just cause you and Nick don’t wanna wed, doesn’t mean I don’t,” said Colin.
After filling Dominick’s glass, Briar’s lopsided smirk fell, his lips curling down. “I want to… Just not to Evelyn. She’s pretty, but has proved to be kind of a bitch.”
“Good.” Dominick closed his eyes, breathing in his drink. He stretched his legs out and crossed his feet at the ankles. “Ya finally see it.”
“Yeah, well Mayli is one too.” Briar offered the bottle to Colin.
Colin wet his lips. “I shouldn’t.”
“It’s just honey,” said his brother after taking a sip.
“He’s right.” Briar took a long gulp and sighed, eyes fluttering in pleasure. “Refreshing, really. It will do ya good.”
The familiar sweet smell of lavender and honey wafted beneath Colin’s nose as Briar placed the bottle in his hand. He’d tamed his habit when the prospect of marrying the only eligible princess in all of Vatan was his. Now, Mayli was anyone’s but his, thanks to Queen Margaret’s greed.
Dominick, Colin’s brother, lifted a glass. “Cheers to that.” Suited in his doublet, one button undone, he looked as refined as their father, despite not yet being of age to be crested.
“Just cause you and Nick don’t wanna wed, doesn’t mean I don’t,” said Colin.
After filling Dominick’s glass, Briar’s lopsided smirk fell, his lips curling down. “I want to… Just not to Evelyn. She’s pretty, but has proved to be kind of a bitch.”
“Good.” Dominick closed his eyes, breathing in his drink. He stretched his legs out and crossed his feet at the ankles. “Ya finally see it.”
“Yeah, well Mayli is one too.” Briar offered the bottle to Colin.
Colin wet his lips. “I shouldn’t.”
“It’s just honey,” said his brother after taking a sip.
“He’s right.” Briar took a long gulp and sighed, eyes fluttering in pleasure. “Refreshing, really. It will do ya good.”
The familiar sweet smell of lavender and honey wafted beneath Colin’s nose as Briar placed the bottle in his hand. He’d tamed his habit when the prospect of marrying the only eligible princess in all of Vatan was his. Now, Mayli was anyone’s but his, thanks to Queen Margaret’s greed.
With nothing more to lose, Colin drank.
The bittersweet bite crawled down his throat. He coughed at the fermentation.
“There’s my cousin!” Briar said, patting his back.
Colin shrugged him off. “Yeah, yeah. May’s not a bitch though. We loved each other…” He took another sip.
Dominick laughed. “Loved? Ya never even met the princess, Col. At least Briar did and can back up his claim. She wouldn’t let it go the day he shot that log.”
Briar stabbed a finger toward Dominick. “Shut up.”
Dominick laughed, leaning back in his seat. “Still got that splinter stuck between your teeth.”
Briar swept his tongue over his gums in search of it.
Colin stared at the amber liquid as if glimpsing the golden sands of Ammos within the ripples. “We met on paper.”
“Letters can’t give you a good time in bed.” Briar winked.
Colin threw him a look. “And tangling in the sheets can’t reveal their heart.”
Briar playfully shoved Colin at the shoulder. “What do you know about that? Been sneaking off to the brothel without me?” He waggled a finger.
“I don’t do that,” Colin said, shaking his head at the concept. He wiped his face. “Nah. May and I? Our letters were heartfelt. Real. We know what we have. How could her mother deny us this love?”
“Sure, sure. But more importantly, how can Queen Margaret deny us royal status?” groaned Dominick.
Briar tapped his chest. “That’s right. Does she not understand that, unlike herself and the other self-declared royals, we actually are descended from kings?”
Colin sipped, shrugging. “Maybe she’s right and our fathers aren’t really sons of King Edune.”
“Don’t say that,” snapped Briar. “We are royal.”
“There’s no denying you are,” said Colin. “Your mother was Trisha Colte, so being the King of Dregs is still within your birthright.”
“True…” Briar considered, cradling his chin.
Raising the bottle, Colin looked through the glass to determine the mead’s remains. A single drop rolled inside. He let it fall onto his tongue. He blinked slowly, feeling the drunken haze hit him. “But me? I’m… I am nothing.”
“Come on…” Dominick walked to a section of books. He pulled one and started flipping through its pages. “Somewhere in here has to prove our father’s blood, Col.”
Colin sneered. “Oh, in those old documents Granda stole? Or did Da forge ’em with his artistic expertise?”
The rumble of a cleared throat echoed in the study. In the doorway stood his grandfather, arms folded and scowl deep. “Your fathers are royal, and don’t ever question your bloodline again.”
“Dean!” gasped Briar, yanking the empty bottle from Colin to hide behind his back.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you three are up to.” Shaking his head, Dean walked to the library wall and withdrew a key. He inserted it into a hole in the wood. Disguised by books, a hidden cabinet popped open. He drew out a long-necked bottle and arranged three short glasses. With care, he poured a splash of clear liquid into one.
Before Dean could set the bottle aside, Colin grabbed the glass and downed the contents in one gulp. He flashed his tongue at the rancid burn that followed, slamming his fist on the table as if that would lessen the pain.
“Damnit, boy, that dune ale was for your father.” Dean plucked the glass from his hand and shook his head upon seeing it dry. He set it down and refilled it. “At least tomorrow you’ll be too incapacitated to embarrass this family further.”
Colin stared at his empty hand, then recoiled his fingers. “Not much more I can do when Margaret is here waving silk n’ sword in yer face accusing us of bein’ illegitimate. You’ve made us fools.”
“I did not risk my life crossing the Desert of Gezmek with two stray, entitled boys just for good fun! King Edune pushed Liam and Jamus to me when the stairs collapsed in the quake. After his sacrifice, I made an oath to protect his sons no matter what trials lay ahead. No matter how drunk and intolerable their own would become.”
Dominick and Briar exchanged guilty looks.
Colin stomped forward. “I may be that, but at least I’m not a thieving liar!”
“We are a family of honor and valor. And it’s time you understood that—” Dean raised his hand to discipline him.
“Don’t you hit my nephew and call it valorous,” said an authoritative voice. Prince Jamus walked in, a stern glare held on Dean. Light armor clung to his frame, mud was caked on his boots, and the fragrant smell of horse emanated from him. Despite his rugged appeal, his gait was smooth, clothes fine, and hair just as blonde and well-groomed as Briar’s, honoring every bit of his royal title despite anyone’s objection.
Dean lowered his hand to cover his shoulder in respect. “Your Highness.”
Jamus eyed Colin with the same disappointed look he’d thrown at Dean. “You know better than to drink.”
Colin stepped back, dipping his head.
Walking past, Jamus leaned in, speaking in a friendly whisper. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell your father.”
Colin raised a smile, but Jamus had already moved on to meet Briar at the desk. “Besides, I suppose this one is to blame? Thought you were to keep an eye on your cousins?” He tousled his son’s hair, ruining the perfect combed wave, making ends stick up in every direction.
Whining, Briar ducked and threw his hands up, brushing through his locks. “Da!”
Jamus laughed, deep and mighty, but it quickly faded when Dean crossed his arms and cleared his throat. “What news do you bring, Jamus?” asked Dean.
He sighed and shook his head. “The gossip in town isn’t good. Already there are those believing the lies and causing disturbances. Seems like some contest our story in here too.” Jamus took a glass of dune ale, looking at the three of them.
Colin hunched his shoulders. “Queen Margaret brought evidence. It’s compelling.”
“All it proves is that Gezmek is still alive and well. Maybe even your other grandparents.”
Dominick turned the book he’d been flipping through around. He pointed to an illustration of King Edune raising matching dual sabered blades over his head: one a sword, the other a dagger. Both shone silver. “Uncle’s right, look. The knife that Prince Arkello gave Queen Margaret to prove he’d come from Gezmek? It looked just like this and your sword, Galavant.”
Jamus coiled his hand around his saber’s black-jeweled handle at his hip. “Yes, I remember the dagger. I always thought the jewels were blueberry candy. Tasted more like iron.” He showed his tongue, where a small nick on the side left a depression.
“Anyone can forge a weapon,” Dean grumbled. “And don’t call that man a prince. His story is an Ammosian fable to discredit us to keep their claim on independence. Otherwise, this Arkello fellow would have come along, not wander back into the sands. They are trying to prevent us from taking back Vatan, and depriving you boys of marriage will do just that.”
Jamus sat at the desk. “Maybe instead of criticizing, we talk with him. If this young man can answer some questions only Liam and I would know about Gezmek, then perhaps we could join him on his upcoming expedition and go back home! You always wanted to go to the desert, did you not, Colin?”
Home? Colin stared at the illustration of his great grandfather. Giant dunes surrounded the stone-carved palace as if King Edune rode a ship across a golden ocean. “We really could go to Gezmek?”
“We are home.” Dean slammed the book shut, meeting Colin’s gaze. “Even if some did survive the quake and storm, there’s no way they would be alive today or could’ve managed to live almost thirty years underground. Let alone resurface.”
Jamus leaned back in the chair, crossing his ankle over a knee. Tapping his fingers together in a wide spread, he smirked. “Are you forgetting how stubborn us Densens are?”
“Never.” Dean looked at Jamus as if sharing an untold joke. “What I doubt is Queen Margaret’s willingness to let Vatan merge and be ruled as one again. This will bring war if we aren’t careful. Which is why King Liam is in conversation with the queen at this moment.”
While Dean kept his attention on his conversation with Jamus, Colin coiled his hand around the bottle of dune ale. Undetected, he slipped it under his cloak. Nudging his brother, he gestured toward the door. Dominick shook his head, nodding to the conversation his family was having with great interest. Finding Briar looking on with a bored expression, Colin jerked his head again, inching toward the door. As Jamus and Dean discussed Vatan’s future, Briar followed after.
“I think Dean and Arkello are both telling the truth,” said Briar once in the hall. “Because then you could have everything, Col.”
“I have what I need.” Colin pulled the bottle of dune ale from his cloak.
“You thief.” Briar laughed, snatching it. He sipped, face souring as if he’d been punched in the gut. “Shit, this stuff is awful.”
Colin laughed, taking it back. “It’s worth the effects after a hard day.” Arm around his cousin, they swaggered into the great tower and collapsed on a bench at the bottom of the spiraling staircase. Closing his eyes, Colin raised the ale to take another fiery gulp.
“Colin Densen, that better not be what I think it is.”
Already defeated, and feeling the delayed effects blooming from the shot he’d taken in the study, Colin sheepishly looked up and raised the bottle above his head for his father to take.
King Liam descended, his long blue cloak following behind like a waterfall. Sunken eyes, droopy shoulders, and hair pulled slightly from his ponytail, his father looked like he’d crossed swords and fought for a kingdom. Without lashing out, hitting, or even looking at either Colin or Briar, he took the bottle and sipped. Despite the harshness Colin knew of the ale, his father’s stoic face remained unfazed.
Colin swallowed nervously. “What did the Queen of Ammos say?”
“Nothing good.” He handed the bottle back.
Dread mixed with the alcohol burbling in the pit of Colin’s stomach. “Will there be war?” he asked.
His father stared at him, eyes unusually soft. “Margaret went against our verbal agreements for you and Princess Mayli to wed. She’s initiated a war, yes, but that is a battle we have already lost and cannot even begin to fight for. I am sorry, Son.”
Hope escaped with Colin’s next breath. His head spun as if his world was crumbling around him, and not just due to his intoxication. He felt as if the tower had fallen, destroying any further chance he had to live.
“What do you mean?” Briar shook his head. “I thought we had more troops than Ammos?”
“Ammos, sure, and I know how to get past their silks, but not when they bring in their allies. We cannot fight the steel and arms of Hiore.” Liam walked to the stair’s base, heels clicking once on the tile before muting on the blue rug before them.
“What about Dregs?” asked Briar. “Uncle Olivar could help?”
Liam laughed, sad and lonesomely. “No. No, he won’t. I am afraid we have no say in this matter, boys. Which is why the queen was kind enough to bring the news personally. She’s a bird perching on a blade’s point—nothing can hurt her.”
Colin’s hands turned to fists. His teeth grit together. Jaw feeling as though it were to crack, he threw his mouth open and yelled, “How can she walk into our home like this? Destroy everything we have worked to achieve? How is it that, despite everything, we still aren’t enough in their eyes? True heirs of King Edune or not, we have proven ourselves just as worthy as all those other self-proposed royals!”
His father placed his free hand on Colin’s shoulder, squeezing the royal crest tattooed upon it. “Because it takes more than one generation to build a kingdom.” He patted him and walked off toward the study.
Colin’s heart rate continued to elevate, his rage battling the calming remedy the dune ale offered. He tilted his head back. His head spun as his eyes followed the stairs coiling around the old grain silo encased in the tower. Finally, they found a landing where the dome capped it. He glared as another flight past that, Queen Margaret was surrounded by comfort in her suite, pleased at Brimley’s impending ruin. Off-balance, he swayed. “Mayli’s not a bitch—Margaret is.”
Briar wrapped his arm around Colin. “Come on, Col. Let’s get ya to bed. I’m not carrying your heavy ass up six flights.”
He stumbled, allowing Briar to lead him up the steps like a horse to its stable. The door leading to the guests’ floor swung open, and a young servant emerged in a flurry. He bumped into Colin, breaking him from Briar’s weak embrace.
“Oie, ya nearly threw us down!” Briar growled, looking back over the rail. “What’s the rush?”
“I’m sorry!” The servant bowed, placing his hand on the left shoulder. Orange silk swooshed forward, displaying a falcon with three stars embroidered on his cape.
Colin squinted at the bright outfit. “You’re a servant to the Ammosian Queen…”
“That’s right! And I’ve been sent to find Prince Colin!” The servant pointed between them. “Do you know where I could find him?”
“Ya just have…” Colin snarled, taking an unintended sip of dune ale. He pointed with his grip around the bottle’s neck. “And if ya have a message from Margaret my reply is…fuck ‘er.”
“Uhm.” The servant bobbed on his toes. “I was told to say that after talks with King Liam, Queen Margaret wishes to discuss the prince’s future with her daughter in the privacy of her room.”
“My future? With May?” Colin swayed. His loose sense of self was fading beyond reach, dune ale threatening to take its full effect. Memories collapsing. He furrowed his brow at Briar for assurance. “Bri, I’m drunk…”
Briar caught him and pointed up the stairs beyond the servant. “Sure, but ya always speak truthfully when intoxicated. Here’s your chance to show ’er how ya feel!”
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