Shadows in the Trees: Book 1

Chapter 19

Damon paced restlessly, his shoes tapping on the marble floor. I'm going to wear my way down to the catacombs if he doesn't show up soon, Damon thought. Footsteps rushed toward him, echoing through the hall.

"My prince!" his servant, Cedrick, wheezed. His rather large forehead was shiny with sweat.

"What news?" Damon demanded.

"The prince -- I mean, the other prince -- your brother -- "

"Yes?" Damon said, impatiently. "Have they found him?"

"No one is looking," Cedrick said. "The queen -- "

"What do you mean no one is looking? Hire mercenaries, immediately. Make sure they specialize in tracking, I will pay them handsomely --"

"It's no use, my prince. He's gone . . . " Cedrick hesitated, studying his shoes.

"Gone where? Cedrick!"

"The forest. The . . . the forest."

"He's . . . no." Damon sat on a nearby bench, dazed. "How? Why?"

"Our spies are not sure. They think he went in to get the princess."

"He has to know it's a suicide mission. Doesn't he?" Damon said. Cedrick shrugged, and Damon put his head in his hands.

"My prince . . . why aren't you happy? You get to be king now."

"It's not a servant's place to ask questions," Damon said, not unkindly. "Leave me, please."

"Of course, my apologies, my prince."

Damon rubbed his wiry curls. I have made a terrible mistake, he thought. Julian was not fit to rule, but Damon didn't think he deserved to die either. He remembered Julian as a child, playing knights with him in the courtyard and making flower crowns for their mother. He wished he had told him of their father's plan. He wasn't sure he deserved to be king if he played a role in his own brother's death.

He stood abruptly and hurried to his father's study. He stopped a moment outside the doors, focusing on the intricate carvings of Elohine's history to compose himself -- he didn't want to dissolve into a blubbery mess the moment his father opened the door. He heard his father's rumbling voice, though the words were indistinguishable through the thick double doors. Strange, Damon thought, it's rather late for a meeting. Then, he heard a woman's voice reply. He knocked, and the voices ceased.

"Enter," his father called after a moment. 

Damon pushed open the door. His father was seated in his large blue armchair behind his desk, though there were no papers or books in front of him. Damon looked around the spacious study, but the armchairs in front of the fireplace were empty, and the bookshelves stood like sentries against the far wall. The large window behind his father's desk was slightly open, a light wind carrying the stench of the city ruffling the curtains. No one else appeared to be in the room.

"Father -- were you having a meeting?" Damon asked.

"No," his father said. His face was unreadable, but that was not out of the ordinary.

"Oh. I thought -- well, never mind."

"What is it, my son?" King Wilhelm asked. Damon walked to the enormous desk and took the chair opposite to his father, trying to make himself comfortable on the stiff wood. It felt like an entire continent was between them.

"I'm assuming you've heard the news," Damon said.

"Never assume anything," Wilhelm said. "But yes, I have. It would have been better if Venira had just killed him in the throne room like I thought she would; it would have been easier to make him a martyr that way. But alas, if you -- "

"Father, how can this be right? I . . . I murdered my own --"

"Julian caused his own demise," Wilhelm said stiffly. "You had no part in it." Though his eye contact was usually uncomfortably steady, the king was avoiding his son's gaze.

"Inaction is an action," Damon recited. "You know what I've done. How can I live with myself? How can you live with yourself? He was my brother, but he was your son! Will you kill me, too, if I fail you?"

"No! No," Wilhelm said. He sighed, and to Damon's surprise, a tear streamed down his cheek. "Damon, my sons are my greatest treasure. But Julian couldn't rule. He would bring Elohine to ruin, destroy all that the Carsguards have built. We are already in a precarious enough position with the famines. We couldn't afford to have a drunkard for a king, not now."

"But did he have to die?" Damon asked. "Couldn't he have just been a puppet king? I would have been his advisor, and a strong, smart queen at his side would have kept him in check."

"Julian -- my dear Julian," Wilhelm said, his voice catching, "he was a fool who thought he was brilliant, the most dangerous kind of fool. He may have seemed apathetic, but he had a stubborn streak, and he was entitled. His judgement was poor to say the least, he had no tact, he was thoughtless, selfish, he -- well. No queen, no advisor, could have protected Elohine from him. I didn't want to kill him," he said, more tears falling. Damon stared. He had never seen his father so outwardly emotional, not even when his mother died. "But please, Damon, don't blame yourself. If it is anyone's fault, it is mine, for not raising him to be a good man. I failed him, and I failed you. I hope you can forgive me. Understand, my boy, a king may seem like the richest man in the world, but no one sacrifices more for his country. I would do anything, anything, for Elohine, and I hope when you are king, you will have the strength to do the same."

"I am no king. I murdered my own brother."

"No!" his father said fiercely, "I murdered Julian. You were following your king's orders, like a good son, like a good citizen. The blame falls on me." He sighed. "Look at me, Damon." He met his father's gaze, which was unflinching once more. "You are a good man. You are strong, you understand duty, but most importantly, you have heart, something I lack," the king said. He looked to the portrait of Queen Cordelia hanging above the hearth. "Your mother always said that she was the heart and I was the brain of Elohine. But you, my son, are both in one person. That is truly extraordinary. And that is how I know you will be a great king."

Damon was silent for a long moment. He took a breath. "I understand. I forgive you, Father." He sighed. "I hope one day I can forgive myself."