But for now, all he could do was retreat. He took a deep breath and headed back, determined to put as much distance between himself and Lokir as possible.
CHAPTER 2
Darian hurried back to his chambers, his face still flushed with embarrassment. He splashed cold water from the oak bucket onto his face, hoping to calm his nerves.
His chambers were situated in the most secluded corner of the castle, several floors below the royal dungeon that had once held traitors and prisoners of war. It had been years since anyone had been imprisoned there, and Darian had begun to think that he was the only constant prisoner in that part of the castle, albeit with a few extra comforts. His cell was just a few floors above, providing him with a measure of privacy that was rare in the bustling castle.
Darian sneered as he dried his face with a rough linen cloth, the king’s words echoing in his head like a cruel joke. “Continue the Serpent-Slayer bloodline,” he had said. “This is your sacred duty.”
“My sacred duty to do that?” Darian muttered as he approached the window. “Not to win a war like Nome, but to breed?” A cool wind blew across his flushed face, dissipating the last traces of his blush. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, when a knock sounded at his double doors.
“May I come in, my prince?” It was Narim, his oldest friend and second counselor. Darian felt a small sense of relief at the sound of his voice. Narim had always been there to help him since childhood.
Narim and Lokir, the other counselor to the king, were constantly at odds with each other, always arguing and finding counterarguments to each other’s words. Despite their mutual animosity, however, the king considered them both invaluable servants to the kingdom.
“You may come in,” Darian said, grateful for the distraction.
An old man with deeply wrinkled skin and short white braids shuffled into the modest chamber, his movements sluggish. It was Narim’s father, an esteemed counselor in his own right, who had served the kingdom for decades.
“Congratulations on the birth of your brother, my prince,” Narim said as he entered the chamber.
Darian scoffed. “I’m not the one who should be praised. Congratulate the king since he’s the one who conceived the child.”
Narim looked at Darian with concern. “Is something troubling you, my prince? I’m always here to listen.”
Darian shook his head. “The king just ordered me to find a wife. He’s afraid Nome won’t return from war.”
Narim nodded understandingly. “Without Nome and his army, the kingdom’s enemies will try to take the throne. And there are rumors of a spy in the castle. Lokir even suggested that the spy is you.”
“I bet he did. I’m tired of the fact that no one takes me seriously!” Darian clenched his jaw in anger and knocked over a bucket of water.
Narim stepped aside to keep his cassock from getting wet.
“You think I’m not scary enough? You think I can’t keep this kingdom in fear?” Darian continued, raising the bucket back.
Narim looked at him thoughtfully. “A formidable appearance alone is not enough to instill fear in your enemies. Perhaps something terrifying or reckless should be done.”