Arutha smiled at her. “Not yet over your own grief at your father’s passing, and you share mine. You are kind.”
Word of Erland’s death had come a week before on a ship from Krondor. Anita shook her head, her soft red hair moving in a rippling wave around her face. “Father was very ill for many years. He prepared us well for his death. It was a near-certainty when he was put into the dungeon. I knew that when we left Krondor.”
“Still, you show strength. I hope I am able to bear up as well. There is so much to be done.”
She spoke quietly. “I think you will rule wisely, Lyam in Rillanon, you in Krondor.”
“I? In Krondor? I’ve avoided thinking about that.”
She sat at his side, taking the throne Carline sat in when at her father’s side in court. She reached over and placed her hand upon Arutha’s, resting on the arm of the throne. “You must. After Lyam, you are Heir to the crown. The Prince of Krondor is the Heir’s office. There is no one to rule there but you.”
Arutha looked uncomfortable. “Anita, I have always assumed I would someday become Earl of some minor keep, or perhaps seek a career as an officer in one of the Border Barons’ armies. But I had never thought to rule. I am not sure I welcome being Duke of Crydee, let alone Prince of Krondor. Besides, Lyam will marry, I am sure—he always caught the girls’ eyes, and as King he’ll certainly have his pick. When he has a son, the boy can be Prince of Krondor.”
Anita shook her head firmly. “No, Arutha. There is too much work to be done now. The Western Realm needs a strong hand, your hand. Another Viceroy is not likely to win trust, for each lord will suspect any other who is named. It must be you.”
Arutha studied the young woman. In the five months she had been at Crydee, he had come to care dearly for her, though he had been unable to express his feelings, finding words lacking when they were together. She was each day more a beautiful woman, less a girl. She was still young, which made him uncomfortable. With the war in progress, he had kept his thoughts away from their respective fathers’ plans for a possible marriage, revealed to him that night aboard the Sea Swift. Now, with peace at hand, Arutha was suddenly confronted with that question.
“Anita, what you say is possibly true, but you also have a claim to the throne. Didn’t you say your father’s plan for our marriage was designed to bolster your claim to Krondor?”
She looked at him with large green eyes. “That was a plan to foil Guy’s ambitions. It was to strengthen your father’s or brother’s claim to the crown should Rodric die heirless. Now you need not feel bound to those plans.”
“Should I take Krondor, what will you do?”
“Mother and I have other estates. We can live quite well upon the revenues, I am sure.”
Struggling with emotions within himself, Arutha spoke slowly. “I have not had time to weigh this in my mind. When I was last in Krondor, I learned how little I know of cities, and I know less than that of governing.
“You were raised for such undertakings. I . . . I was only a second son. My education is lacking.”
“There are many able men, here and in Krondor, who will advise you. You have a good head for things, Arutha, the ability to see what must be done, and the courage to act. You will do well as Prince of Krondor.”
She rose and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “There is time for you to decide how best to serve your brother, Arutha Try not to let this new responsibihty weigh too heavily upon you.”
“I will try Still, I would feel better knowing vou were close by—you and your mother.” he added with a rush.
She smiled warmly “We will be close at hand should you have need of our advice, Arutha. We will likely stay upon our estate in the hills near Krondor, just a few hours’ ride from the palace. Krondor is the only home I’ve known, and Mother has lived nowhere else since she was a girl. Should you wish to see us, you have but to command, and we will happily come to court. And should you wish to find respite from the burdens of office, you will be a welcome guest.”
Arutha smiled at the girl “I suspect I will be visiting with regularity, and I hope I do not wear out my welcome.”
“Never, Arutha.”
Tomas stood alone on the platform, watching the stars through the branches above. His elven senses informed him someone had come up behind. With a nod he greeted the sorcerer. “I am but twenty-five years in this life, Macros, though I bear memories of ages. All my adult life I have been waging war. It seems a dream.”
“Let us not turn this dream into a nightmare.”
Tomas studied the sorcerer. “What do you mean?”
Macros said nothing for a time, and Tomas awaited his words with patience. At last the sorcerer spoke. “There is this thing which must be done, Tomas, and it has fallen to you to finish this war.”