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No one mentioned that it hadn’t been his idea, but Lucivar figured the warriors knew the obliging had nothing to do with the match and everything to do with not killing Falonar.
The Dea al Mon walked out of the communal eyrie.
No longer concerned about provoking Chaosti into more of a fight, Lucivar felt his temper slip the leash, turning hot and jagged as he walked up to Falonar. “That’s the second time you’ve used a sparring match to strike at a man. I guarantee you won’t survive if you try it a third time.”
He motioned to Zaranar and Rothvar. “Get Prince Falonar back to his eyrie and summon the Healer. The rest of you are dismissed—except you, Hallevar.”
The two men hauled Falonar upright, ignoring his snarled protest, and carried him out. The other men departed as quickly as they could.
When he was alone with the arms master, Lucivar said, “Do you know what’s wrong with him?”
Hallevar shook his head. “But I’m guessing he’s finding it harder than the others to accept that when it comes to fighting, we might be second best in this Realm. Not you, of course.” He hesitated, then added, “We’re an arrogant race, Lucivar. You know that as well as I do.”
“We are, and I do. But we’re not stupid, and when a man wears the Sapphire, attacking a Gray-Jeweled Warlord Prince during a friendly sparring match is plain stupid, no matter what race the Gray comes from.”
“Something has been chewing at him lately, that’s for sure, but I can’t tell you what I don’t know. I can tell you that, even as boys, you and Falonar lived by different shades of honor.”
“Honor is honor,” Lucivar snapped. “It doesn’t come in shades.”
“Yeah.” Hallevar smiled. “As boy or man, that line was always clear to you. I don’t think it was ever that clear for Falonar, which is probably why the two of you can’t get along any better now than you did back then. And there’s the other thing.” He frowned, then shook his head.
“Say it.”
“You’ve fought your battles, and you’ve got nothing to prove. So you’re content to rule a territory that isn’t churned up all the time with power struggles and fights.”
“In that, I’m no different than any other ruler in Kaeleer.”
“Maybe that’s the point. Hard for a man to make a name for himself if there aren’t any battles to win.” Hallevar sighed. “You made your name, Lucivar, whether you intended to or not. You spent most of your life away from Askavi, but you gained a reputation on the killing fields, and hearing your name was enough to put fear in strong men’s eyes. No one is going to feel that way about Falonar.”
No, no one would fear Prince Falonar. Not in Kaeleer, anyway.
“Now can I ask you a question?” Hallevar said.
“Sure. Ask.”
“Why have you been so soft with the Eyriens in Ebon Rih? Those lazy bastards in the northern camps don’t want to hold their own cocks when they take a piss, let alone do anything useful. Why didn’t you kick their asses off these mountains sooner?”
“To go where?” Lucivar asked quietly.
“What difference does it make where—” Hallevar stopped. Stared.
“Yeah.” Lucivar smiled grimly. “Everything has a price.”
“You kept them close so they wouldn’t become someone else’s problem.”
“And because I had hoped that I could build an Eyrien community here. The community didn’t happen, but keeping them close to avoid trouble had worked for a few years. Now it doesn’t, so it’s time for them to go.”
“Between the women’s settlement in Doun and those of us who are staying in Riada, that’s the start of a community, isn’t it?”
Lucivar smiled. “Yes, it is.”
“You think the other Eyriens will survive once they leave Ebon Rih?”
“Not for long. Not in Kaeleer.” He blew out a breath. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be down at The Tavern for an hour or so. I want to check on Rainier.” And Merry and Briggs.
“You have any objections to the girl working with Tamnar this afternoon? Boy didn’t get any practice in this morning, and the girl is always eager for a chance.”
“I told Jillian she could have the training if she kept up with her schoolwork,” Lucivar said as he headed for the door. “So I have no objections.”
“Tamnar isn’t a child, but he’s not an adult yet.”
Lucivar stopped, hearing discomfort in Hallevar’s voice. “So?” If there was any question of the boy behaving inappropriately around Jillian, the arms master wouldn’t have asked for permission to have them train together.
“Being a bastard and all, boy hasn’t had much schooling with books and such. Wouldn’t want to shame him by putting him with the little ones, but . . .”
Understanding the point of the conversation, Lucivar smiled. “I’ll talk to Endar. I think we can work something out.”
Hallevar didn’t smile back. “That answer right there is the reason the people in this valley will never feel about Falonar the way they feel about you.”
Yaslana is family. It was a pleasure to oblige him.
And that, Falonar thought as he sat alone and embraced the pain from his wounds, was more proof that Lucivar Yaslana wasn’t one of them beneath the skin and shouldn’t be ruling over real Eyriens. To acknowledge something like Chaosti as family? No man respectful of his race would admit to such a thing—even if it were true.
The Children of the Wood. They weren’t natural, weren’t human, despite their shape. Nothing human could have blocked an Eyrien—blocked him—that way or moved fast enough to inflict several wounds before he even saw the blade.
This place was making the Eyriens weak, making them less. Diminishing them a little more each day.
He had to save his people. It was fortunate Surreal had that unexplained breakdown. It had kept Lucivar occupied, and had bought more time for the rest of them. But Surreal had recovered, and Lucivar would once again focus on driving out the people who should have first claim to this land.
Falonar pushed himself out of the chair. It wouldn’t do his wounds any good to be riding the Winds to the northern camps, but it had to be done.
If he was going to save his people, he’d better do it soon.
Lucivar walked into his eyrie and hung his winter cape on the coat tree near the door. All he wanted right now was a quiet, peaceful evening and an hour to soak in the eyrie’s heated pool.
