The bay horse danced impatiently under its rider as he drew the animal to a stop at the crest of the hill. Head tossing and black mane flaring, it tugged on the reins, wanting to run. This easy, measured pace of traveling was not nearly exciting enough for the horse, nor its rider.
“Take heart, friends,” Maël de Rocaille called back to his travelling companions. “We have made the river!”
The two other riders picked their way along the trail, reining their horses to a stop beside their friend, as together they looked down at the lush banks of the Aviline River flowing patiently onward toward the sea.
“A welcome sight,” Sebastien L’Envers said, flexing his hand in his riding glove to stretch the cramped muscles that had been holding the reins. His dark eyes scanned the rest of the hills before them, picking out traces of paths that would make the passage easier. “From here we turn north, follow the river, and soon enough we will get you home.”
The third rider did not share his companions’ pleasure in seeing the river. They had been skirting the southern edge of the central mountains and plateaus for ten days, and it would be another ten days of travel through the river valley before they would see the gates of the capital city. He wished it were another month of travel. He had no desire to return to the city, not after the news had come. He had requested the longer journey through the lowlands around the southern edge of the highlands instead of cutting across the mountains and plateaus, trying to buy himself as much time as he could. But he could not delay forever.
His mother’s letter, tucked into the breast of his simple jerkin, was well worn from countless rereadings of her perfect penmanship. But the artful swirls of her calligraphy did not make the words any sweeter.
From Her Majesty by the Grace of Elua, Sovereign of Terre d’Ange, Queen Anielle de la Courcel to His Royal Highness, Prince Gustav de la Courcel.
My son,
Ever do those who bear the responsibility of leadership have to carry the burdens of the people they lead without choice but to sacrifice the needs of their heart and emotion for the strength to caretake the needs of the many. I wish I could write to you with the warmth and comfort of a mother and offer assurances that all will be well. But I must set those desires aside in favor of the strength of the crown that calls me to duty first.
The Dauphin, Daniel de la Courcel, heir to my throne and crown, has passed to the True Terre d’Ange That Lies Beyond, waiting for us to join him when it is our time. The plague has taken much from all of us and left those behind to deal with the unexpected and uncertain future. Your country needs you, Prince Gustav, to rise to take the place left by our fallen Dauphin. As you are the second-born of my children, the responsibility of the royal succession now falls to you.
Return to the City of Elua at once. It is time to take your place as Dauphin and prepare for your future as King of Terre d’Ange when my time is finished. The country needs you, you cannot fail them. We will speak of duties, responsibilities, and what you must learn from me when you return to the palace.
Signed,
Your mother, Anielle de la Courcel
The death of his brother was enough to bear on its own but to now face a future he never thought would come to him? He had enjoyed his years at the Rocaille University, studying whatever he wanted to study, expanding his education and knowledge of whatever caught his interest. He had made friends there, real friendships not borne of ambitious hunger or empty flattery. And in an instant, with one letter, it had all changed. The entire trajectory of his life was altered.
“Gustav?”
He came back to himself and looked up at his friends. There was a look of concern on Sebastien L’Envers’s handsome face, the purple in his eyes dark as the wine-dark sea. Maël kept his seat as his horse danced, but there was a quiet sadness in his hazel eyes. The world had changed around them, these three young men, and what they had to help them navigate it right now was each other.
“We’re with you in this, Gustav,” Sebastien said softly.
“You will one day be our king,” Maël said, stroking his gloved hand soothingly down his horse’s neck. “But we started as friends. Good friends. That will not change.”
Setting heels to their horses’ flanks, the three noblemen cantered down the hill to turn up the river, back to where the City of Elua waited for them.