The Rift in the Domain- The Auranos Stories Book 2

Chapter 24 - The Lagokian, Part II

Reinon

It felt as if the whole city was in my apartment that night. Police, medics, writers, photographers- and eventually, Orai himself. He was somber and quiet as he walked through the doorway into my room. The law enforcement officials had kept me in there for as long as they could, away from prying eyes and pressing questions. This type of thing did not happen in Lagokia. Never. Domestic homicide? Alcoholism? They were practically alien to us, remembered only by those dusty textbooks that now lived in my mother's beautiful museum.

Orai always looked like a king to me. I suppose kings are different to Earthlings, but Orai was fit, balanced. His eyes never betrayed anger or hate- his words were always exceedingly well-chosen. He was always composed and collected. But his nervousness was apparent that night as he approached me.

"Reinon Ahzi," he said quietly. "I suppose you know who I am."

I do not remember our discussion after that. I think I may have blocked it out.

Orai adopted me, so to speak; I was raised in the palace as a child of the king. I even could have been next in line for the monarchy, if I wanted. Lagokian politics put me in the ideal position to take the throne after Orai's demise. My only proper competition would have been Zaikom, Orai's younger son. But I was too afraid, too timid to even consider it.

For months after my arrival in the tower, I rarely dared to speak with anyone besides Orai himself. I took up refuge in one of the guest rooms and stayed there like a prisoner. The door was unlocked, but I kept it shut, distrustful of the world.

I only realized years later what I put Orai through- unintentionally, of course. His wife died of disease just a few years after Zaikom's birth. There are some things even Lagokian medicine cannot help. Orai wanted to raise Zaikom himself, to give him at least one constant parent. Trying to raise the both of us in a kingdom that expected nothing less than the best from him every single day... well, it sounds like madness now. And I closed myself off from his most genuine attempts at surrogate parenting for months. Try as he might, try as the royal doctors and psychologists did and did again, there was too little precedent for a child in my situation to offer me much help, especially without my desire for improvement.

One cold night, I heard a knock at the door. Reluctantly, I took the knob in my hand and pulled it open. And there, on my threshold, was Orai, holding little black cat- a young panther with sparkling eyes.

"This seems a shallow offer, I know. But he is yours if you want him, Reinon," the king said quietly. "I expect nobody here understands your plight, do they? Nobody you can speak to would be able to offer you help with what you have to cope with."

I was young, but I understood what he meant.

"I supposed you could strike up a friendship with someone that will not misunderstand you," he explained kindly, putting the panther on my threshold. It mewled at me, looking nervous and unsure. "The panther will never patronize you, try to minimize your grief, or give you ill advice."

"Thank you," I murmured to Orai, picking up the little creature. Its fur was softer than silk, and its little nose pink as a berry.

"You will have to name him," Orai added. "But I suppose that can wait."

"Yomir," I said, offering no explanation.

Orai smiled. "Yomir it is."

I allowed the king into my room, where we watched little Yomir run laps around my desk chair, swat crumpled paper with joyful abandon, and curl up in my lap with a gentle purr. I think I fell asleep on the floor as Orai and I watched Yomir pounce on little strips of ribbon- when I awoke, however, I was tucked into my bed. Yomir was lying beside me on the sheets, snoring gently.

Growing up, I did in time venture out of my room, and out of the palace. I was often accosted in Akala Tower by politicians offering their "apologies" for the tragedy of my childhood as if, three and four and five years later, I wished to be reminded of it on my way to breakfast.

In the library, however, nobody would approach me. I could distract myself so easily with history, politics, and even a little bit of science- all the world seemed to melt away as I read. And so I became quite an antisocial bookworm. But I studied my way through school and exams, with little help from royal tutors. I took great joy in pouring over the dusty tomes that put other kids to sleep. While they were out exploring the bright and sprawling treets, I was discovering our country's ancient history.

And my future sprawled ahead of me like a sunny boulevard- an arrow's path to wherever I chose. I had apprenticeship opportunities with politicians, historians, and leaders of all sorts. I would be a political scientist, a historian, an analyst, a brilliant addition to the social discourse of our nation, learning from the past to improve our present.

Well, here's what I didn't tell Abigail that night on the plateau: all of my planning, all of my preparations, all of my studying...

I'd abandon it all to spend my life with her.