Corvan smiles. It’s a soft, gentle smile, devoid of any ulterior motives. He looks genuinely pleased. “He’ll need a name.”
“Hmm…” I inhale the horse’s familiar, comforting scent. “I’ll call him Solstice, because that’s close to when I found him. And because after all that, he deserves to enjoy a bit of quiet and stillness, don’t you think?”
“A fine name. Take your time. He’s obviously happy to see you.”
“Poor boy,” I murmur. “He’s probably traumatized.” I can feel the horse’s nervous energy as I run my palm over his neck. I close my eyes and try to imagine myself drawing it away from him, dissipating it into my own body, because I can absorb it better.
I’d like to think my goodwill helps him, somehow.
Corvan waits patiently in the background, allowing me time to commune with my horse.
“Here, Finley.” Then he plucks an apple out of somewhere and tosses it to me. I snatch it out of thin air and give it to Solstice.
He happily gobbles it up, noisily smacking his lips. I rub his neck. “See you later, buddy. You’re safe now, okay?”
Solstice lets out a deep snort of satisfaction.
“You’re a natural with horses,” Corvan murmurs as I return to his side. “I’ve never seen them so calm in my presence.”
“I’ve enjoyed being around horses for as long as I can remember. Ruen Castle can be a… cold place. But horses are never cold.”
“You may visit here whenever you wish. I’ll notify the stablemasters. You may ask them for anything. There’s a riding arena near the eastern wall. Use it as you please. And the castle grounds are yours to explore.” His indulgent look sends heat right into the tips of my ears.
I’m not used to being spoiled.
“Was that all you wanted to do? It’s late, but I wanted to show you something before I escort you back to your chambers.”
My heartbeat accelerates. “What is it?”
“Come with me.” He holds out his hand.
His undivided attention burns as hot and bright as the sun.
“Maybe I should just pick you up,” he murmurs, weaving his fingers through mine. “I’ve been so tempted to. You have no idea, Finley. You smell so good, and you look incredible.”
I frown as I glance down at the sumptuous fur coat, hiding my giddy reaction to his compliment.
Whoosh. I find myself weightless, wrapped up in warmth and held by his powerful arms. “Why not? I can easily carry you.”
I glower, ignoring the fact that it feels so good to be held like this. “That doesn’t mean you should.”
“I’ll put you down if you want.”
I act surly, even though I’m enjoying the feeling of being held against his broad, solid chest. “It’s fine.”
He sweeps through the castle grounds; across empty squares, through hibernating gardens, down deserted open-air passageways, up and down flights of steps, along stone paths… until we reach a great old stone arch that frames a deserted garden.
Corvan sets me down with great care. “This is Edinvar’s central garden. It’s a little neglected at the moment, but now that you’re here, I have a reason to have it tended to in the springtime.”
We step through the arch and into a wonderland.
The moon is almost full tonight, huge and bright in the winter sky, allowing me to see perfectly well. In the center of the garden is a frozen pond. Moonlight paints it white; so bright it almost glows. It’s surrounded by big, ancient pines, their boughs laden with snow. The trees are almost big and thick enough to erase the castle’s stark stone walls.
“This pond is ancient. It was here long before Edinvar was built. It’s fed by a deep underground spring—the same one that supplies the castle’s water. They built the castle around it. When it’s warm enough, it’s a nice place to take a dip.” Corvan beckons to me. He leads me across the snow-covered ground, through a gentle swirl of snowflakes, out onto the frozen surface of the pond.
A strange feeling comes over me. It’s as if the shackles of my past life have fallen away, and I hold something unfathomable—a kernel of possibility—in the palm of my hand.
“It’s beautiful, Corvan. There’s something different about this place. It feels peaceful here.”
“I had a feeling you’d recognize what I felt the first time I saw it. I consider this place to be the true heart of Tyron. At the bottom of the pond, there’s an ancient statue of the Goddess Hecoa—it’s probably a thousand or more years old. A lost relic from the Khaturian Tribes.”
“The barbarians used to occupy this land?”
“I wouldn’t call them barbarians. That implies they’re uncivilized, which couldn’t be further from the truth. For a very long time, all of this was their land, until my great-grandfather sent his armies to colonize the North, and they redrew Rahava’s borders and created the duchy of Tyron. My great-grandfather, Lyzar, understood that this land was defensible, because he led the campaign himself. But he knew that taking his armies any higher into the mountains would be treacherous. The Khaturians are magic-wielders and fierce fighters, and the slopes are near-unassailable. So he wisely drew the border at the edge of the Khatur, and left it at that. It was my father who got greedy. He wanted the riches that lie beyond the mountain ranges, so he sent a full legion of men up into the Khatur to subdue the tribes and take the lands above the clouds.”
Realization dawns on me. “The barbarians didn’t attack Rahava unprovoked. Emperor Valdon started the Northern War.”
“Contrary to the official reports, the entire thing was of my father’s making.”
“And you…”
“When it became clear that his forces were going to lose, he sent me here to clean up the entire bloody mess. We were victorious in the end, but we paid a heavy price. I do not intend to fight a war in these lands ever again.”
“Is that why you claimed Tyron? To keep this region under your control and out of reach of the Imperial Palace?”
Corvan reaches out, gently caressing the side of my face. Despite the biting cold, his fingers are warm. “Finley, I intend to expand Tyron and make it stronger; more prosperous… to the point where we’re untouchable. It’s the only way to stop the Imperial Palace from destroying what they don’t understand. The Khaturians won’t accept anyone as ruler but me.”
“Ruler? But I don’t understand. I thought the Khaturians were the enemy.”
“They were, but we have a treaty now. They worship strength, and they’ve recognized me as their Kral.”
His crimson eyes are filled with secrets and terrors. I berate myself for naively believing the rumors of the mad archduke. What I’ve discovered in Tyron is so very different. “What is a Kral, Corvan?”
He shrugs, his cold expression giving way to bemusement. “They think I’m some sort of god.”
“I don’t entirely blame them. Look at you.”