Home.

Returning to the castle felt surreal. He was going home, the place he had grown up, the place he had spent almost every moment of his life, but it felt different. Knowing he had to leave, that his brother was effectively banishing him from the castle, from the capital, hurt enough. But after the warning Mother Blomte gave him, the stone walls seemed menacing, the shadows he never gave a thought to felt threatening. This wasn’t his home; he didn’t belong here anymore.

Of the few people Aarni believed he could still trust, the most important one was weapons master Akim. Akim had become like a second father to him after the king took ill, and if anyone would help him avoid his brother and give him a chance to continue his training, it would be Akim.

He made it to Akim without being intercepted, there was no sneaking around, the guards were too good and a prince gets noticed. He had to hurry if he was to have any chance at secrecy. He found Akim, and fortunately, his long-time teacher already knew the situation.

“So you need a diversion to divert your brother’s eye, that is easy enough. There is a supply cart leaving tomorrow morning to the training center in Afjal, we will put you on it.” Aarni saw a change in Akim’s face, he stood taller and put his hand on Aarni’s shoulder. “I’ll give you a letter of introduction to give to Commander Voron. It’s good for you to get out of the capital, it’s good for you to join the king’s army, it’s the best place for a younger prince.” Akim turned and walked to his desk, “Let me write you up that letter now, go say goodbye to your father, your letter will be ready when you return.”

Aarni thanked Akim, and turned to leave. In the hallway waiting for him was Queen Mariss. He hoped she hadn’t been in time to hear Akim and him discuss his real plans.

“My Queen,” Aarni said as he bowed, making this meeting as formal as possible right from the start. “Is there anything I can do for you.”

“Aarni, I had hoped things would go differently, I. . . Your father and I had such hopes for you. . .” Mariss seemed honestly sad. This woman, she had always been so condescending and manipulative, and now the last two interactions he had with her felt so different, almost honest.

“You know I’ve always desired to serve my homeland like my ancestors, like my father, to defend her with blood and steel.” Aarni felt himself wanting to reassure her, to comfort Mariss even as he knew he needed to keep her from knowing his real plans.

Mariss covered the ground between them effortlessly, gliding like a dancer across the smooth stone floor. She embraced Aarni, hugging him like a mother or older sister might. She held him for a few seconds while Aarni’s arms stayed at his side. Before breaking contact, she put her face beside his, pressing her cheek to his, the smell of her hair and the feel of her skin embedding themselves into his memory.

“I’ll do what I can to protect you from here, Stay alive, son of Orm.” Her voice so quiet but clear Aarni would later imagine that she hadn’t spoken at all, that the thoughts had travelled directly through their touch. Her scent, the touch of her cheek and the feel of her body overwhelmed him, and before he could realize she had broken their hug, she was gone from sight.

Aarni would never trust Mariss, and he could never trust himself when she was involved. The power she held over him, over most men, was too much to ever take lightly. She might not be deceiving him, but then she wouldn’t have to deceive him to lead him to ruin, Aarni could easily see himself walking willingly into hell for her favor, like the tragic love stories of old.

Aarni shook his shoulders, took a deep breath, and started walking. He would go see his father, he knew his brother would know he was here, and expected at some point to run into him. It would, of course, be at the moment and place his brother chose. Aarni was operating on Sune’s timeline, at least as far as Sune knew, and his brother had always known how to wield that advantage. Until his brother revealed himself, Aarni wouldn’t stress about it. He would walk the halls of his father’s castle like he had every other day.

He arrived at the king’s chambers and requested an audience. As he waited to be admitted, it finally hit him, that this was likely the last time he would see his father, or at least what was left of him. A shell of a man who once filled the room with his presence, his voice booming, his laughter raucous, everything he did he did with such passion. . . Aarni had struggled the last few years even to be around his father. He had been so strong, so vibrant, larger than life. Now he could barely lift his head to acknowledge his own son. This was it, likely the last chance he’d ever have to talk to his father, and Aarni had no idea what to say.

The steward returned and ushered him into the room. His father was in his chair, slumped over, his head sagging to the side. Aarni didn’t even know if he was aware of him, but he went through the motions anyway. Aarni knelt, addressed his father, waited a moment for the acknowledgement he knew wasn’t coming, then stood and informed his father that he would be leaving, going North to train with the troops, to follow in his footsteps, all the time looking for any reaction, anything to show he had heard, that he could still care about his son’s fate.

He bowed again, informed his father he would be leaving on the transport in the morning, and tried to turn and leave. He couldn’t. It was all too much. He was angry, sad, he felt guilty and hurt, but most of all, he didn’t want it to end like this. This couldn’t be his last interaction with his father, this couldn’t be how he left.

“Prince,” the steward behind him stated softly, wanting to usher him out of the room, like they always did. Instead, Aarni went forward.

Aarni knelt at his father’s feet, took his head in his hands and kissed his temples, the way Mother Blomte had kissed his, then turned his head up and met his eyes. Tears were running hot on his cheeks.

“Father, I may never see you again, but I swear I won’t disappoint you, I’ll be worthy of our family, I’ll make you proud, I promise.” He hugged him close, then pulled back and looked at his father’s face.

“Aarni, is that you?”

“Yes Father.”

“Your mother. . .” his voice trailed off, the king looked to the side, and whatever spark of thought had been there disappeared.

“Goodbye Father,” Aarni said softly as he rose, turned, and left his father’s room.