Page 112 of The Concubine King
Yorith was inhibited by his upbringing—dedication to tradition and a blind faith in the gods even in the stew of their neglect—and one cannot fault him for that.But you and I became men in the harsh realities of a changing world, General.We did not have the privilege of the high cushion from which priests view the world.We toiled in the mud, in sweat and blood, to enact the wishes of our superiors.How can we face our soldiers now and tell them in all solemnity to do the same when that “superior” is an uneducated peasant from a backwater village at the edge of the kingdom?
You know as well as I that the king’s advisor has been the true leader of the kingdom for centuries now; it is clear the gods have no investment in who is doing the actual ruling.Let them choose who they want to serve their hedonistic fantasies, but let it be just that: a role of sacrificial servant.Let’s do away with this archaic model of government and allow the most competent leader, not the prettiest face, to be king.
You spent your career fighting against injustice and ineptitude.Yorith supported you in these endeavors.Had he not been so blinded by his faith, he would have understood the validity of no longer putting the fate of the kingdom into the hands of those least interested in it.Do not let the vision of a blind man prevent you from seeing the opportunity for a prosperous future.
Well regards and wishes for your health,
Lyrian of the Aedus Estate
Ethyr sank to his heels as he read, and when he finished he sat staring blankly at the scroll as though the words would magically transform to something else.
Kiaro stood several paces away; a dark, unassuming presence.
“Do you know what this letter says?”Ethyr asked quietly.
“I can imagine,” Kiaro responded ambivalently.
“Because you’ve been watching Lyrian too?”Ethyr looked up at him.He took Kiaro’s lack of response to be affirmative.“How can you call this a mortal affair?It directly involves the gods.”
“It does not.”
“He wants to get rid of all say the gods have in who is king!”
Kiaro met his gaze coolly.“The gods never intended to be the decider of kings.”
Ethyr stared.“What?What do you mean?”
“They were simply choosing someone to represent the kingdom’s faith.It was humans who took the gods’ choice as their leader,” Kiaro explained.“Many opposed this, and there was fighting between different factions.The civilized gods naturally defended the person they chose, which mortals took to mean they approved of this form of government.But even the supporters quickly realized the problems with this method of ascendancy, and so the council and advisor positions were formed to help the king govern regardless of their experience in doing so.”
“The positions Lyrian also wants eliminated,” Ethyr said.According to Malor, anyway.
“Humans are always changing, evolving, inventing.If they wish to change how their society works, we will let them.It is no use fighting against that which the universe has decided to be.”
Ethyr looked back down at the paper.Uneducated peasant from a backwater village.Sacrificial servant.Pretty face.
“He’s not wrong,” Ethyr murmured.
“Meddling in mortal affairs always brings unexpected consequences,” Kiaro told him.“You should not let yourself be drawn into this.”
“What are you talking about?”Ethyr cried, getting to his feet.“I’m the reason all this is happening!I let Lyrian kill Yorith, I let him become advisor, I’ve let him take over everything!”Ethyr crushed the scroll in his fist, the heat of his face stinging in his eyes.“I should have listened to you,” he said tearfully.He should have listened to them all.
“No,” Kiaro whispered.His voice was so quiet it was hardly audible over the crackling fire, yet the force of it was so dark it suffocated every light and sound from the room.“I should have protected you.I shouldn’t have let you get so involved, you always—” He closed his mouth abruptly, but the darkness of the room didn’t lift.Ethyr stared, trying to decipher the black look in his eyes, but the god turned and strode out to the balcony.
Ethyr dropped the scroll and followed, but couldn’t get himself to step over the threshold.He expected Kiaro to transform and fly away, but instead he gripped the railing, staring into the moonless night like he could see the waterfall through it.
“You tried to warn me,” Ethyr reminded him.
Kiaro’s grip tightened, fingers digging against the marble like they could claw into it.“It wasn’t good enough,” he said, voice trembling as though he were holding up an enormous weight.
Silence hung between them, punctuated by the faint sounds of insects under the roar of the waterfall.There was a tension coiling around Kiaro, as though he could snap at any moment, like a feral dog forced into chains.With the other gods, sometimes it was easy to forget they weren’t human.But Kiaro could never be mistaken for anything less than what he was.Ethyr swallowed his unease and forced himself to step forward into the open air of the balcony, closer to the god.Why did he feel like he could soothe him?And yet he was too scared to touch him.
Kiaro pried his fingers from the balcony and reached into his sleeve, pulling out a black feather.In the next second it transformed into a mass in his palms, like a knot of burnt roots, and it took a long moment for Ethyr to recognize it.He’d seen Kiaro holding it once before, the first day he was offered to the gods.
“Do you know what this is?”
Ethyr tilted his head, leaning closer to see it.“No?What is it?”
Kiaro rested a hand over the top of it, drawing it close to his body.He held it like it was something more precious than his own heart.“Do you not feel it?”
