Book 1: Youth of Delarn

Chapter 4: Red King Part 2

Her father had let her sleep beside him that night, despite how he had insisted she needed to sleep on her own. She had all the stuffed animals she hadn't had upstairs around them, and her father had made some of them himself. She couldn't remember the time from which the others came from.

She had drifted off thinking about her mother, and about the people that he told her had come with him to this land to make a new future here. She thought about her brother, and how he had drowned and because he had drowned, she had been born. She thought about the smell of alcohol and how clean he smelled now, despite the wound.

Early the next morning, he woke her by trying not to wake her when he got up, slowly moving and easing himself up. He watched her for a long time when he realized she was awake, probably trying to consider whether to tell her to go back to sleep or what was happening. He decided and pulled her to sit on his knee. He seemed diminished now, which was strange because he was the greatest man in her world, and it only made the rest of the world smaller.

"I want you to know a few things," he said in his low, rumbling voice. "I'll teach you more about your heritage when you're older, but I need you to know there are people that'll seize your throat and shake you about before admitting your nobility. They'll do anything they can to prove you're evil, but you have to prove over and over you're more than that. Do it with anything you can and know they'll still call you a fiend. You may even meet other Lyalltines that will make you believe you're only a hound. It's because we still have human hearts, and humans have a way of getting their hearts twisted in ways that wolves never can."

She stared wide-eyed, but nodded, unable to speak. She remembered him talking a bit like this the night before, but he now seemed more fervent and desperate for her to understand.

"If they call you a werewolf, pluck them from your fur like ticks and cast them away from you," he told her, gritting his teeth and gripping his side, the side where the bolt went in. "If they continue to pursue you, dispatch them with righteous anger, but never allow yourself to lose faith among your peers, or they'll drown you."

The way he was talking sent twinges of ice through her stomach like needles. Normally, he would only talk this way when he was drunk.

He heard them coming before she did, and he didn't allow her to see the fear in his eyes as he held her close in a hug.

"Whatever you do, my dear dove, stay back and hide your eyes. Don't look out the window and don't so much as breathe lest they smell your scent and come for you," he whispered, his voice desperate before he kissed her forehead. "Delarn, I need you to promise me that no matter what happens, you'll remember to be strong and allow no one to treat you less than you deserve. You are just as important as anyone else, and no matter how difficult things become, and you have to survive. You weren't born to be stepped on or forgotten."

He then stood and placed her on her feet, walking past her to the door. He paused, but didn't look back as he went out. She stood there for a few seconds before it occurred to her he left.

She knew he had told her to stay away from the window, but she couldn't stop herself from going to peek over the bottom so they wouldn't see her. She had been expecting and dreading the demon, so what she saw instead made little sense. She didn't have to fear being noticed because all eyes were on her father.

Izara still had a terrible limp he was trying to hide when he came out to greet the priests and knights that were standing outside his door. As he suspected, the priest that had shot him was there as well, though not in the forefront, and his face was a mask of panic. He couldn't help but grin in his direction before focusing on the knight in front of him.

He looked to be pushing his sixties with greying hair, but appeared capable for his age. He wore a shining plate of armor that gleamed in the morning light. Izara was often sarcastic and snarky about people whose armor didn't show any signs of wear, but he had to admit, seeing him here with his troops and his neatly trimmed beard and regal stance with that shining armor was impressive.