Maji Born

10 - The King of Midais

"She can't have gotten far. Now that we have her bounty posted it won't be long before they retrieve her and the Ardaer stone," Elidain Tazarine said, resting her hand on her son's shoulder. Radek glanced up at his mother, he shrugged her touch away and ran a hand roughly along his temple, trying to dispell the tension headache that had begun to build.

"If Lavinia isn't returned before reaches the border it will become almost impossible to retrieve her." He sighed, leaning forward in his throne, his long straight blonde hair fell like a curtain hiding his features from his mother's careful inspection.

"Not to mention the stone. If someone touches it that would be catastrophic. In the hands of the enemy, it would be a powerful tool. Grandfather should have destroyed the wretched thing. If the Belestine girl gets the stone that would mean war in Midais," Radek said. He glancing over his shoulder at the display case.

"You know what that stone symbolizes," Elidain chided. "Your father and grandfather before him would never dare touch it even with what it represented. They knew that it was better to leave it where it was. I do not believe they had a knowledge of how to destroy it. It is an ancient bit of majik," Elidain finished. She made her way towards the case, her thick velvet gown twinkling as the embedded crystals refracting across the marble floor in the sunset. She glanced over the remaining items when she reached it, her eyes lingering on the emerald drop earrings.

"I am aware," the King growled, "she was always so quiet. Who knew she would be such a damn headache."

Elidain sniffed, her disdain palpable.

"I knew," Elidain said, "Your sister is a poison to our family lineage. Disfigured and unworthy of our name. Her majik is against our ways."

She stepped away from the case and wandered toward the window, gazing down at into the rose gardens, "I begged your father to send her away but he would not hear of it. He always was a sentimental fool."

Radek clenched his jaw.

"Mother. Do not speak ill of the dead. Whatever his weaknesses were sentimentality wasn't one of them. As much as I disagree with his decisions he was well-loved by the people."

"You didn't know him in his youth. That man was foolhardy. His head always too full of ideas that could never be," Elidain said with a sigh. She turned back to her son, "Some of his ideas may have come to pass but we have large matters to attend to."

Elidain looked tired and worn, her normally well tamed black hair was slipping out of her gem crested hair net, deep grey shadows rested below her grey-blue eyes, and her lips, normally painted crimson, were pale and naked.

"Mother why don't you return to the ladies. Jethra was planning the reception last time we spoke. She should be monitored or she'll spend the whole kingdom's gold overnight on that wedding."

Elidain Tazarine glanced at her son, sharing an exasperated silence.

"Very true. Jethra has beauty and wit I'll give her that but that girl lacks sense. I'll make certain this wedding doesn't drain our treasury," Elidain made her way to the end of the room, pausing before leaving, "I'll see if any of my contacts have news on the rumours."

Then she exited the room leaving Radek to his troubled thoughts. His father would have known the best course of action. He had always had a plan, even if his mother was right and it had been a foolish one. The majik ban had gone less smoothly then he had hoped and even now reports of possible up rises had begun. Clearly, the population was less on his side than he had initially considered. The last thing he needed was word of the Belestine princess reaching the peasant folk. If that happened he would be facing an uphill battle.

Radek had studied his family history and knew the fate of the Belestine family. It had been a trying battle and one that had left both sides without hope. The Belestine king had, from his father's accounts, been deranged. The majik and power had gone to his head if the histories were to be believed.

King Azriel Actura Belestine had been considered fair and kind but had grown more and more majik centric. When Radek's grandfather, Graith Ediath Tazarine, had taken the throne it had been for the good of the realm. He had been a ruler the poets wrote about and the musicians sung about. Courageous and passionate. Radek stood and went to the window, gazing down at over the wall at his kingdom. Everything to the sea was his. He leaned against the stone frame, white knuckles clenching against the rough surface.