Page 13 of The Night Prince 6

Elasha? Lady Elasha Fairlynn. Aquilan’s niece. Ah, things are about to get interesting.

Rock Star

Vex finished chewing and swallowed the delicious moist chocolate cake and cream before dusting his fingers off on his jeans. He hummed happily to himself. It wasn’t just the sugary treat that was making him happy or the experience of being in a new place with new people–though all those things were delightful and adding to his good mood–but playfully sparring with Rahven was the real source of his joy.

Rahven.

His son.

The surprising orator.

Really Rahven was surprising on many levels. While incredibly young and with much to learn both martially and magically, he had already demonstrated feats that few with tens of millennia in training and power could have attained. Seemingly tongue-tied and uninterested in talking at the best of times, he could then launch into a cross-examination and closing argument that had both damned Rohannan to the lowest depths, but then had given Aquilan an opportunity to rescue the Separatist leader.

His son had a sense of justice, but also mercy.

He could eviscerate with blades, but also words. He did not seek to be a leader, but he commanded others naturally hence the reaction of Rohannan and the Tweedledums that Finley had christened the three youths that followed the Separatist leader around. While Rahven could be ruthless–see destroying a whole Leviathan nest–he took no joy in causing others pain–see his letting Seith and Leisha go. And, again, despite his youth, he was settled in himself in a way that many never achieved no matter how long they lived.

Where did his son get all of these qualities and why did he have them so polished at such a young age?

Rahven was not like either himself or Ashryn. Thankfully, he was nothing like Vex’s parents or sister either. Was he like Lysanthir? His heart beat heavily as his elder brother’s handsome, smiling face flashed before his mind’s eye. A smile. On a Kindreth. Without rancor or ulterior motive. But Lysanthir was unlike other Kindreth in every other way, too.

Rahven was more dour than his elder brother. But his son had lost three parents in his short life. He had suffered the indignities and cruelties of being thought jadir. That thought caused Vex’s right hand to fist for a moment and a little girl who had been watching him with wide eyes and a tentative smile made a soft, scared sound. His red eyes had likely glowed behind the sunglasses.

He quickly released his fist and smiled brilliantly at the child with the glamour fully in place. She blinked large, brown eyes at him. He ruffled her hair and she giggled delightedly. He conjured a small purple flower behind her left ear and handed it to her. She took it in a grubby hand and clutched it to her chest in awe. She giggled again and he waved goodbye to her. Her eyes kept tracking him as he wandered deeper into Hope.

He wondered what Rahven had been like as a young child. The Kindreth quickened their children into adults for safety. The Under Dark was unforgiving to even mature Kindreth, but to children it was vicious. How many had they lost at Last Light? Whole generations before he changed things and required children to reach adulthood in an almost mortal timeframe. But there was still a small period of years where they were little cherubs. Sweet and innocent. Or little demons. That was possible, too. He had to admit that.

Had Rahven possessed chubby limbs, overly large eyes, and a shy smile at one point? As if the world was mirroring his thoughts, he saw a little boy race towards a man, calling out, “Dada!” The man’s face broke into a broad grin before he leaned down and swept the small dumpling up in his arms. He spun the child around in a circle. The little boy laughed delightedly and leaned back, certain his father wouldn’t drop him, certain he was safe. The man then brought the boy close, resting his bottom on one crooked elbow as the two of them moved off into the crowd together. The father kissed his son’s temple and the little boy leaned his head on his father’s broad shoulder.

It was clear that the man and child thought of each other with no doubt about who and what they were to one another. Uncomplicated love and devotion. But what was Rahven to him?

A gift from the gods? Or a curse?

Of course, Rahven would be powerful with magic and martial ability. Both he and Ashryn were exceptional and their family lines were the same. There were eons of powerful mages and master swordsmen and women in the Vex and Zinsadoral lines. There were generals. There were kings and queens. There were rebels, too. And, finally, some claimed that there was a single god… So Rahven’s heritage meant he was more likely to be exceptional than not. But his life–short as it had been–also ensured this. The cruel–but effective–training of the Venomthorn would have honed that raw potential, too.

Yet Rahven was more. And he was more far sooner than he should have been even with all of the positives–and negatives–of his heritage and upbringing.

The question that niggled at Vex was why.

Were the other gods interfering in his life? Again? Or was this–as Hein seemed to believe–a peace offering to him?

Brother, here is a child that will be your equal and your friend to aid you in the unending dark…

Or was it on the other side of that spectrum?

Enemy, we have birthed a hunter from your own seed that will track you down and whose arrow will fly true…

Ironically, Rahven appeared to be congenitally ill-suited to follow anyone’s wishes or wants for him good or bad. He put his ears back and stared at the requestor with narrowed eyes. If anyone actually tried to command Rahven to do anything, he imagined his son would do the exact opposite out of sheer spite.

He is a poor instrument of anyone’s will.

That meant, of course, that he had no real worry that Rahven would believe the simpering compliments and specious arguments of his other, lesser enemies who would seek to have his son go up against him. Though he claimed not to believe it, he was actually pretty certain that his son had no desire for power, no desire to rule. That Rahven would have to though was something Vex was even more certain about. Pushed into it out of a sense of duty or honor.

Or love.

But his son would not join with those who sought to overthrow Vex. No, his son would likely slaughter them if they pushed too hard and he thought they were a true threat to his father.

So he should enjoy his time with Rahven. Delight in their sparring. Draw out his son’s thoughts and help shape them. Perhaps even cause Rahven to love him. He thought that was possible. In time. With care. Though Vex knew he was often not careful enough.