Page 4 of The Night Prince 6

“Yes, let’s start again,” Aquilan agreed.

As they began their tour once more, Declan heard his father chuckling softly in his ear. Oh, my son, you are an orator! A great politician! Who would have guessed?

I am not, Declan answered.

Indeed you are! For you saved Rohannan and his Separatists with that mighty speech!

I saved Aquilan from looking like a fool in front of Vesslan while innocent people suffered because of it, Declan countered.

Yes, yes, that, too. But the end result is that Rohannan lives to fight another day. His father was chewing on something with relish. But, you know, the dark parts of every species cannot be talked away. No matter how great the orator. Who is in and who is out will always be there. Who is on top and who is below… Well, it is the nature of all beings.

I know. But Aquilan and Finley are right. We have to fight against that.

Or use it to our advantage. This is truly delicious. Not as good as ham, but… His father was mumbling.

Suddenly, Declan tasted sweet cream on his tongue. Are you eating a Twinkie?

There was a guilty pause. I’m not here in an official capacity. If I beelined it to the bakery, that is my right.

You knew there would be trouble by coming to Hope.

Yes, but it is not my problem. I cannot interfere without… consequences, Vex reminded him. And there will come a time, my Rahven, when you will realize that you cannot either.

I do not regret what I did here, Declan said.

No, nor should you. What you said to Rohannan was well deserved, Vex admitted. I admire your passion for truth and justice. But, Rahven, whether you like it or not, you are my son. You are the Night Prince. And that means what you do and what you say… Well, they are ripples in a pond. Just remember that. There was another delighted sound that undercut the soberness of his words as he said, The Ho-Hos are even better!

A Cautionary Tale

Darcassan hefted the enchanted bag over his head and allowed the strap to cross his body before adjusting it. The bag itself felt light and if anyone–like his sister–looked inside of it, she would find nothing. It would appear empty just like it had when she’d nearly caught him smuggling the Luminerian out of Xrdatha’s Armory. But the sword was in there in its burned case and he felt the psychic weight of it, if not the physical one.

The itch to take it out and hold it, to swing it and feel the hilt against his palm, and to send his magical senses through it was almost overwhelming. But he didn’t dare do any of this while he was in the Eryas Palace, because his privacy was constantly being violated. For though his father had not checked on him once since they had returned from Illithor–thankfully, he told himself–his sister had come several times a day just to “check in” or “to see if you need anything” or “just for company”.

He knew that she felt guilty about suspecting him back in the Armory of taking something he shouldn’t. The fact that she had been right hadn’t caused him to drop his frosty demeanor with her during her impromptu visits. After all, she saw him as a thief while the truth was that he was simply taking back what was theirs all along. If anything, the dwarves were the thieves! Helgrom should have let them look at everything in the Armory, and if any of it was Aravae, let them repatriate it. But no, he’d acted like some kind of real king doling out treasure to peasants. It was insulting in the extreme!

But that was neither here nor there now. He had the Luminerian.

Yet his sister wasn’t the only one to check on him and delay his understanding of the sword. His uncle had even visited once or twice despite his focus clearly being on Declan, the Night Prince. Everytime he thought of Declan, Darcassan found himself adding on that moniker. His title. Because it reminded him just who this seeming human really was and the danger that he posed.

The Night Prince is in the Eryas Palace. The Night Prince who can destroy massive Leviathan nests with a single blow. The Night Prince whose identity Uncle is hiding from nearly everyone after making a deal with the Night King to save him. As if the Night King needed an excuse to save his own son…

But then maybe Xelroth Vex was like Vesslan Fairlynn and maybe Declan really had needed a helping hand. But Darcassan shook himself. The truth was that they knew nothing of Declan and Xelroth’s relationship and they shouldn’t assume it was anything less than close and devoted.

It made him taking a sword that was Aravae property from a dead dwarven city seem minor in comparison to his uncle’s behavior in keeping all of that secret. In fact, it made taking the Luminerian appear prophetic, because they might need it depending on what Declan’s presence here meant.

Still he didn’t want to be caught with the Luminerian. Not yet. Not until he had mastered its powers, which would prove he was its worthy wielder. If his uncle or sister caught him with it before then, they’d insist on returning it to Helgrom. If his father did, he would take it for his own. No, Darcassan had to tame the Luminerian and only then could he reveal he had brought it home.

But to do that, he needed privacy and time. Yet he’d been too exhausted to leave his bed since their return to Earth from Illithor. He’d felt scrapped clean of magic and had slept fourteen hours a day. He was still not completely himself, but he was too eager to start his investigation of the sword to delay any longer. He just needed to find a secluded spot to study and he thought he knew of the perfect place. It was a pretty glade just outside of the dome.

His absence today would likely go unnoticed as his most frequent visitor–Elasha–was not there and he’d seen his uncle leaving the palace with Declan and others, too. Elasha had actually tried to lure him out that morning with the outlandish suggestion that he accompany her to the Separatist settlement of Hope.

“They are having a party with delicious food cooked over coals or wood and music!” Elasha had practically glowed with excitement as she had flitted around the room. “I don’t know if you’ve heard human music, but it really is quite wonderful–”

“I’m sure it is as loud and coarse as they are.”

“That’s not true! Why must you always jump to the conclusion that something is bad if it is human?” Elasha’s hands fisted and she stopped her excited movements.

“Because it usually is?” He shrugged.