Page 4 of Splintered Shadow
Half-blind prince.
“If I find an enemy incursion?” Vekele asked.
“Do not engage. Return to the inner zone. You are too important to lose.”
“But not too important to risk on reconnaissance.” Vekele tilted his head to better look at his brother. Was this a ploy to send the family’s disgrace away on a fool’s errand? Or to eliminate a rival to the throne?
No. For all Baris’ faults—ego, hubris, a stunning lack of modesty—he had never treated Vekele as a disgrace or less than capable. And Vekele did not want the throne. He never had. Still, he had no idea what poison councilors whispered in Baris’ ear. They might convince Baris that Vekele’s continued existence was a threat to the stability of his reign.
In darker moments, Vekele had wondered if Baris ordered the attack that blinded him. A ruined soldier could not rally forces to his side and seize the throne. Such treachery among the royal family had happened within living memory. The fact was, Vekele had been a popular military figure with success on the battlefield. Many of the nobles only considered the king to be strong if that strength was delivered with bloodshed.
A shortsighted opinion, in Vekele’s mind.
Arcos had been torn apart for decades by civil war. As various noble houses gambled to seize the throne, Arcos grew more and more isolated from the rest of the galaxy. Once they had thriving trade. Now they had an abandoned station in orbit. Once Arcos boasted the most respected warriors in the quadrant with an extensive fleet of starships. Now the fleet had been reduced to a handful of ships that could barely break the atmosphere.
The planet needed peace, and Baris had the cunning and the determination to forge peace from the broken shards of the past. Those who regarded Baris as weak were fools. Baris felt the weight of the crown. Vekele did not envy the difficult decisions his brother had to make.
Was blinding him one of those decisions?
Vekele did not want to believe it.
The karu on Baris’ shoulder clicked his beak in an agitated manner. Baris soothed the creature with a few strokes on the head.
“There are many pieces on the game board at the moment. An anomaly amid treaty negotiations is suspicious. Responding in any way feels like an error, but doing nothing also feels wrong,” Baris said, planting his hands on the table. Next to his fingers, a pair of children had long ago carved their initials into the wood.
B.S.
V.S.
Baris ran his thumb over the carving. “I do not know how you can tolerate this place. It is a prison.”
A luxurious prison with ten bedrooms, a library, a study, a drawing room, formal and informal dining rooms, a room for sitting in the morning, a room just for eating breakfast, a kitchen so enormous it required a small army to operate, extensive gardens, undisturbed hunting grounds, and a stable.
“Our time here never bothered me,” Vekele said. He had been ten when their uncle took them into protective custody at the country house. To a youthful, unjaded Vekele, the guards were friends and not prison wardens. He had missed his parents and his friends from the capital, but the grounds offered much in the way of distraction to an energetic child.
It was only as he grew older that he understood what the golden band on his ankle meant, what his scheming uncle had taken from him and his brother.
“I suppose I have you to thank for that. You always took care of me,” he said.
“Come back to the palace,” Baris replied.
“Is that a command, Your Majesty?”
The king positioned his hand over the carved initials, splaying it wide, as if to obscure the past. “Not yet. Must it be?”
“Not yet,” Vekele replied. He scratched the back of his neck, knowing he needed to give in to his brother’s request. Baris would not cease until he had his way. He said, “Even if this anomaly is a bit of dust, the trip to Miria will be worthwhile.”
Miria. The location where the first karu bonded with an Arcosian, where his people’s history began.
Where our parents’ lives ended.
Baris gave a victorious shout and pulled Vekele into a powerful embrace. “Return home safely. Bring me something interesting.”
After the king and his guard left, the library felt empty.
Baris needed him.
After the attack, Vekele had retreated to his books and maps. He made himself as unthreatening as possible, a broken male studying the great battles of the past. No one particularly cared for Arcos’ distant history. His preference was to be ignored so he could get along with his studies, but the king gave him a task. His brother needed him. He would bring the same discipline and demand for perfection to this as he did to his research. He would find this anomaly, be it an incursion or an entire invading army.
