Rezkin had put his faith in the shielreyah that they would keep the Rez from harming his people. He did not know why he had done that. He figured it had to have something to do with the mystical power of the citadel making him feel comfortable, complacent. If he had not been responsible for the safety of the hundreds of people he had brought there, he would have left long ago. He was surrounded by strange powers he did not understand and could not control. The katerghen had disappeared each time they disembarked, and he did not trust it either. The most confounding was the mystery of the power he supposedly wielded without conscious thought. The revelation of his parentage should have solved the mystery, but it had only left more questions. Why was he so different?
After living his life without knowledge of, or even interest in, his lineage, he had discovered a cousin, an uncle, and a mother. He had a family. What was he to do with a family, especially a family he could not trust? This meant the enemy he was supposed to kill was his brother. The missing prince was also his brother. Supposedly, family members had a duty to each other. Was he supposed to find the missing prince—to rescue him, if necessary? The histories were filled with tales of brothers who coveted each other’s wealth or titles or lovers. Brothers fought over their father’s favor or the family inheritance. Yet, he had read of brotherly love and loyalty as if they, themselves, were rules.
Rezkin felt none of this for Caydean nor Thresson. He felt nothing for his mother or uncle. To remain separate from his emotions was an important Rule, as were they all, and to fail to comply with it could lead to failure and death. His uncle knew this. The Rez would not expect sentiment and would probably exploit the pointless weakness if discovered. His mother, however, seemed hopeful. He wondered if he could pass the responsibility to someone else. Who among his friends was in need? Reaylin and Yserria had both mentioned losing their mothers when they were young. Perhaps one of them would care to have one. They were women, though, and Lecillia expected a son. Tam seemed like a good son. He spoke highly of his parents, but he had a mother. Could a man have more than one mother? Then again, was it his responsibility? He had not asked for a mother. Since his birth, he had not required one. He knew, however, that problems rarely went away when ignored. He had no more time to consider it, though. He had a sword of prophecy to acquire.
The docks were busy with personnel performing maintenance and resupplying both ships. Rezkin could hear his prey the moment he set foot outside the warehouse.
“If you don’t hold still, I’m not going to heal you, and you can stack crates with a broken hand!” said a female voice.
A gruff voice replied, “Ya know, most healers are nicer to their patients.”
The woman’s frustration escaped in a growl. “Look, I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to help you. I’m only doing this because they say I have to. Now sit still and shut up.”
Rezkin rounded a stack of crates to witness the petite blonde healer shove the sailor onto one of them. “Apprentice Reaylin, a good bedside manner is a requirement of passing your skills exam. It is a known fact that it is less draining on both the healer and the patient if the patient feels comfortable with the person helping him. Perhaps we should confiscate your bed until you are capable of performing at an acceptable level.”
Reaylin fumed as she stalked up to Rezkin and raised a finger. “What does my bed have to do with this?”
“Nothing, but it would incentivize you to learn a good bedside manner.”
“I didn’t ask for this—”
“You swore fealty.”
“You said I could still be a warrior.”
“And you may. Heal him, and then we will discuss your assignment. Do it nicely.”
Reaylin exhaled heavily, blowing the blonde locks out of her face. She spun around and smiled sweetly. “Please allow me to assist you. Please give me your hand, and please be still. This will only take a few moments.”
The sailor glanced at Rezkin. He had stood and bowed upon seeing the king, and the man’s face still bore the shock of seeing Reaylin berate him. Rezkin nodded, and the man straightened uncertainly before sitting back on the crate.
Once Reaylin was finished healing the broken hand, she spoke in the same syrupy voice. “Thank you for your patience. You may return to work now.”
The sailor bowed to the king and then skittered away as if running from a fire. Reaylin crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “Well?”
Rezkin started to speak and then paused. He instead said, “Do you desire a mother?”
Reaylin’s retort died on her lips. “Um … what?”
“You do not have a mother. Do you want one?”
“Rez, what does this have to do with my assignment?”
Rezkin shook his head. “Nothing. It was an errant thought. You will be going on the next mission. We leave tomorrow. See Journeyman Wesson for details.” At that, Rezkin turned and left the dock.
Chapter 7
Hilith stood in the shade of the building as she watched another wagon head toward the service tunnel that led to the warehouse. King Rezkin had only just returned, and he was already about to leave on another mission. She needed to get close to him, but she could not be too obvious about it. Luckily, she had come up with a brilliant plan to get into Lady Frisha’s good graces. She stepped back through the entrance to the palace and made her way to the third floor despite the fact that the strange palace had no stairs. Pausing a few doors down from her own, she straightened her skirt and knocked.
The door opened, and she found a pensive Frisha staring at her. Hilith smiled. If Frisha was upset, her job would be that much easier.
“Greetings, Lady Frisha. I did not mean to disturb you. I only wished to see how you fare.”
“Oh? Why is that?” Frisha said.
“I heard that Lord—I mean, King Rezkin is leaving on the morrow. It is a shame that you will not get to spend time with him. I thought you might need a friend.”
Frisha’s shoulders dropped. “Honestly, I don’t know what to think. There are too many things swirling around in my mind right now.”
Hilith donned a concerned expression. “Would you like me to sit with you? You know I have had to deal with so much, perhaps my meager advice could be of comfort.”
Frisha seemed hesitant, but said, “Um, yes, thank you for the offer. That is kind of you, Lady Gadderand. Please come in.”
The sitting room was sparsely furnished but better than most on the island. They sat on short, wooden benches that were not particularly comfortable but had cushions, at least.
“I am afraid I don’t have any refreshments to offer right now.”
Hilith patted Frisha’s hand. “It is no bother, my dear. We are all experiencing the same—except for King Rezkin, of course, but it is only fitting that the king should have what luxuries are available.”
“Oh, no. Rezkin isn’t like that,” Frisha said. “I mean, he doesn’t care about luxuries—more like he puts up with them because it makes the people happy to dote on him.”
“I did not realize he was so humble.”
Frisha furrowed her brow. “I don’t think it has anything to do with being humble. He just doesn’t think they’re necessary. He seems to be more comfortable camping on the road in his armor.”
“A military man, then? That surprises me,” said Hilith, and she meant it. “He seemed quite the courtier when we met.”
“Yes, he’s very … um … versatile,” said Frisha.
“Well, that is too bad. It does explain his constant outings and choice of company. I thought it strange that he would knight a woman, but now it makes sense. Oh, pardon me, I should not say such things. Sometimes my tongue runs away with me, especially when someone I care about is concerned.”
Frisha straightened, her shoulders tensing. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, it is nothing, I am sure. But … well … it is not something that is done, you know—a female knight. It does provide him with an excuse to take her with him. Men of power do not like to do without, if you know what I mean.”
“He wouldn’t—”
“No, of course not. I have heard great things about King Rezkin—that he is honorable and honest.” Hilith saw a flash of doubt in the young woman’s eyes. She leaned forward and patted Frisha's knee. "You need not worry. He will not be like most men in his position. I have heard that he keeps you in close confidence. He probably tells you everything.” Frisha pursed her lips, and Hilith knew it to be denial. She said, “I admire you, you know.”
“Me? Why would you admire me?”
“Well, I could never be so trusting. My curiosity would get the better of me. After I caught my dear departed husband with the maid—”