AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Fadon cursed, his lack of sleep and lack of any good news lately getting the best of him. “And is one of those things my betrothal to Sierra?” Did it even matter anymore, the Fealty? No. But the prophecy…
“Yes. It’s why I want you to come with me.”
Gritting his teeth, Fadon rubbed his head. Mari wasn’t going to let Fadon go anywhere, not now. Besides, he had too much to see to here. “I can’t leave, Demos. It isn’t poss—”
“Captain?” Tradium called, practically running toward them.
Fadon turned. “What is it?”
“Captain, a courier came to the gate and dropped off a letter for the queen. She’s requesting your presence at once in her parlor.”
“I’ll catch up with you later,” Demos said.
Fadon rubbed his head again. “Fine. In the meantime, you better have more information to give me. So help me, in Ongar’s name I’m getting tired of your evasion tactics, Servant.”
He didn’t stick around long enough to see Demos’ reaction, because he immediately went up the stairs and to the queen’s parlor, where he found Mari sitting in her nightgown, a cup of steaming tea at her pursed lips. Sitting on the other divan was Caziel, a letter in his grandfatherly hands.
Fadon shut the door behind him. “A letter?”
“An invitation,” Mari replied with cheek. “To Pastoris of the Janis clan.”
“Not following.” Fadon eyed Caziel, who handed him the letter. The words to Mari were hastily written in only a few sentences sprawled on the left side. The front and main part of the thick parchment was indeed an invitation. To a meeting in Ghypsom City. The occasion? A sit-down for the main chieftains and clansmen of the Ongahri not pledged to House Trajan.
Fadon cursed as he scanned it to the bottom where he saw a familiar name.
“Read it out loud, Fadon,” Mari said, blowing on her tea.
“Fine. ‘Due to recent events regarding the Variantia and the political landscape that is changing, it is imperative that we join forces to protect our own sovereignties before our people are used in one of the biggest post-modern power plays our generation has seen. The Owl and those who sit in power would like nothing more than to use the rebel group that call themselves the Variantia as a scapegoat in order to take down the Ongahri once and for all. Join me in Ghypsom City on the twelfth of Janus. Together we can keep what’s ours.’” Fadon dropped his hand and the paper whipped in the air. “Signed Chieftain Lucius Dega of House Dega.”
“Sovereignties!” Mari placed her cup down and curled her legs under her. “He is right about one thing. The Ongahri do need to consolidate our people, now more than ever. But why is he always one step ahead of us?” Mari’s frustration was palpable.
“Obviously, he is privy to something we know nothing about,” Caziel provided.
“Like what?” Fadon asked, crossing his arms.
“If I knew that,” the old man said with disdain, “don’t you think I would share such knowledge?”
“Fadon, when you were there, did you not at least try to find out what Lucius does all day in his little fortress?” Mari raised a hand in the air, a look of exasperation on her face.
He was back to running his hand through his hair, once again, as he mumbled something too nonsensical to decipher.
Had he underestimated Lucius? While he’d been busy trying to woo Sierra and play at warden to that perverted Owl prisoner, had he let an opportunity pass by at finding out what Lucius had been up to this whole time? The whole purpose, the whole reason, for the voyage to Ordelpho had been because Lucius had acted as an enemy, taking what belonged to House Trajan, befriending its prince, defying their queen’s rule. But after the island, when they had all crashed ashore and where Sierra’s life had been at stake, the remorse he’d seen in Lucius had blinded Fadon, had lulled him into believing that perhaps he’d been wrong about Lucius. That maybe Fadon had built the leader’s character up to large proportions, that the reality had been that Lucius was just a man-made chieftain with nothing more on his mind than being left outside the fold.
Fadon was wrong. Again. And now Lucius’ machinations, something before the island Fadon had always known was worthy of paying attention to, were in play again.
“The man defies us at every turn, Your Majesty,” Caziel said with passion. “I say you march right down to that meeting and corral everyone to your side once and for all. Do not allow Lucius Dega any more line on the leash. He needs to be pulled back, and you taking the wayward into your fold, with an army to back it, at a time like this, would be your best move. But you must move, Your Majesty.”
“I’m inclined to agree,” Fadon said, finally taking a seat. “Servant Demos mentioned that he’s leaving tomorrow. And oddly enough, his destination is Utilla.”
“Utilla? Why there? Why not the Basilica?”
Again, he hated that he knew nothing about the Servant’s plans. “He’s planning on heading to Ordelpho, being that Port Minerva is blocked right now. He refuses to give up on Sierra joining House Trajan, which I’m all for.”
Mari’s dark eyes, a replica of his own, softened. She knew how much he wanted Sierra here, and she blamed the Owl for her sister-to-be’s absence. Had it not been for the blasted prisoner, Fadon could’ve stayed in Ordelpho longer.
“So you think I should go to Ghypsom City?” she asked, now looking thoughtful, as if considering all the possible things that could go well, or go terribly wrong.
“Or Fadon can go in your stead,” Caziel said.
