Red Wine
AVANEER
Thrykis, seat of the Thren, was bright and airy and smelled like pears, which Avaneer found both enticing and nauseating in equal measure. He preferred the dark. Cheerfulness, when it was real, struck him as deeply unnecessary.
He entered the throne room of King Fyris with a goblet already in hand, because he had been in a blizzard and he deserved wine.
"Avaneer," his father said gravely, in the tone of a man who had already braced for disappointment. "I gave you an opportunity to execute my plan without incident. Did you succeed?"
"Yes, father. I did succeed."
King Fyris looked past him. "Then where is the girl?"
"Clearly she has not arrived yet," Avaneer said lightly, taking a sip.
"I was not about to stand in the cold waiting for the whole charade to unfold. You know I dislike the cold."
King Fyris frowned. "I could have chosen any of your brothers, and yet you volunteered?—"
"I volunteered because you said whoever completed the task would receive the Uralar estate, and father, you know I love wine. I could not allow a vineyard to fall into the wrong hands."
"You are the Crown Prince, Avaneer, you cannot simply?—"
"I absolutely can. I am a prince. I was not born to be cold or uncomfortable. I was born to give orders and drink wine." He turned his head. "Sorakar, be a dear and come handle the deed transfer for His Majesty."
Sorakar appeared with a considerable stack of papers. Avaneer smiled to himself.
King Fyris looked at him sternly. "If I find out that the girl is dead, or was never captured, there will be no vineyard, and I will give both of your seaside properties to Jiren."
"Jiren can't even swim, that is absurd."
Jiren stepped forward. "Father, if the girl is not retrieved or is dead because of Avaneer, we will lose thousands of soldiers in this war."
Avaneer rolled his eyes. Always so dramatic.
“Careful,” Avaneer said softly. “I would hate to mention the Yorali slavegirl you’ve been keeping hidden. I believe she belongs to the Death King.”
Jiren’s jaw tightened. “She was going to be sent to the pits.”
“Oh, please,” Avaneer murmured. “You’ve never been able to resist something helpless.”
“He lets you get away with everything, and you know it.”
Indeed, it was true. King Fyris had killed two of his sons for betraying him just a year ago. But he had always preferred Avaneer. Something about a blood oath made to his mother’s brother before he died. Avaneer had never cared enough to remember the details.
His father favored his cousin Teorin too, which was likely the only reason he was still alive after failing to bond with this golden nuisance.
The task had been simple enough in theory. Adjust the route, pay a man to send them somewhere unfortunate, and let the rest sort itself out. Eating the souls of the original safehouse inhabitants had not been part of the plan, but it was a delightful bonus. As for the royal couple, they end up where they should not. Something unpleasant finds them, the dog prince dies, and the girl is collected. After that, she is persuaded into bonding with Teorin, assuming anyone can locate him. Simple. Clean. The Threns gain allies and Teorin has one fewer brother competing for Veynar’s throne.
Teorin owes me a new fucking ship, Avaneer thinks to himself. He wonders if, when he receives it, he should have the exterior painted red. He rarely sees ships of crimson, and inevitably Teorin will give him something dull. Then again, a red ship might too overtly say,“I’m going to eat you,”and he prefers the element of surprise.
Despite the loss of his ship, Avaneer had forgiven him. He had certainly paid enough to make him agreeable. After Avaneer made his displeasure known, he had provided a trunk of sixty gold purses. Avaneer had made it clear how inconsiderate it was to leave him without a single human to eat, not to mention the headache of walking through that ship debris to retrieve him.
Later, when his father gave him the task, he knew it would not be burdensome. Coin made most things simple.
At any rate, the one thing Avaneer had failed to account for was the wind. He and his men had waited in the shadows as planned. But Colsar took an extraordinarily long time to arrive. Was he not a siakar? Did Alarnans not move at something resembling speed? Why were they moving as though they had nowhere particular to be?
Then his stomach began making its opinions known.
