A Shield of Faith (BOOK 4)

Chapter 38

LAUCAN

"Is this what you wanted, Laucan?" the harmony fluttered and used his feathers as strings. "Was it worth it? You've gained the disrespect of the aristocracy. Those who live in the city dread the name you bear and would see you naked to the blizzard, to watch your skin turn to ice and crust off piece by piece." Blood splattered at the head of his bed, the sigil of an ancient family. Two wyverns, locked in an endless dance as they breathed life into a snow rose in full bloom. "Is this everything you dreamed of?"

No.

Wind ruffled the thick blinds across his balcony door and revealed the truth waiting for him in the capital. Broken pieces of the barrier joined the flurry eating itself through their last protection to blanket the lower quarters in snow, a white abyss creating roofs of ice over the stone walkways which came closer and closer to the palace. A veil of endless grief to stifle the hottest wyvern flames. Heating pots sat underneath his mattress to spread a sense of warmth unable to be given to the rest of Naveera. Arms against his sheets, he frowned down at his reflection in the steaming cup of chocoberry tea. Little bubbles popped against the steam. Bread and crackers went around a small dipping saucer as he kept the tray balanced in his lap. Bells tolled out in the quarter clock towers, with each section of the wall blazing against the blizzard.

He pinched one of the thick, fluffy crackers between his fingers and dipped it into the chocoberry tea like Mother used to do for him when he was a smaller boy — and things never changed as he chewed on the puffy texture. Books of law, rule, and the kings of the past filled his bookshelf, but his favorite passages weren't found 'twixt them. They were found in a song, in stories of Atoran of the Ice Glaive — the Snow Prince's right hand, one of two halves. He put the tray onto his bed stand, slipping out of the sheets to grab onto the thick, hardcover tome. It replaced the food unable to settle his stomach as he rifled through the pages of his childhood. The Tales of the Tundra Knights. Its pages fluttered against the bridges of his fingers when he tried to find one of the stories he found himself drawn to — a quieter, peaceful tale.

Ser Atoran Lotayrin, the best Knight in all of Naveera, his journeys which took him all over Old Naveera, into its deepest heart to fight beasts to protect his home. Laucan found his bookmark on the Great Joust on Hippogryph back — unbeatable by all accounts of myth and shreds of history. On the winning trot around the lanes, the picture went to one of an Avaerilian man on the back of a golden hippogryph, his horns wrapped in leather. Painted locks of pale golds curled across his long feathers as the figure held out his javelin upwards, with the winning wreath on the end to the royal seats.

Where the Snow Prince and his queen sat, though from the angle it made it hard to tell who Ser Atoran meant to give it to. It played out in his mind's eye, on the royal seats as the knights clashed together in sport and brought joy to their people again. A thousand turns without their influence... Laucan turned to the next page, of Ser Zahira's misfortune against the three ice wraiths of fate, who cursed her. Cursed her name. Cursed her being. Laucan dragged his fingers across the dark picture of the lady holding a glowing shield. Is it fair? He closed the book again and breathed deep, shaking to his shoulders at the thickening flurry outside. And... Hayvala seems cursed to... cursed from our bloodline. Over the fireplace mantle his icesteel chakrams sat, unused and wrapped with mist, with their coat of arms painted onto the brickwork. King Reyn's voice echoed a reminder of the duty he failed to uphold.

"We need your help, your stonemasons," Reyn wrote to him once more, too long ago. "It won't hold if the Teboran length of the wall fell. We need reinforcements. We need repairs."

We need your help.

He jolted against his pillow at the sound of quick, light footsteps. Two of Hayvala's Sentinels opened the door for their Princess, their eyes locked on the carpet below their feet as they let her slip inside. "Laucan," she said after a minute of silence. Weary shadows dug on her sunken cheeks as she came closer, then sat on the edge of his bed as the doors closed again. "I'm heartened to see that you're awake." Laucan drew his attention over her dress lined with furs at the hems. He flinched when her finger touched his cheek, and he followed Mother's voice as Hayvala's brow creased. "I've posted my Sentinels down the hall. Do you remember anything? Do you remember what you were hearing?"