“May the Happiest Birthday find you, my lord,” Montague said.
“Thanks, Monte,” Rayne said with a soft smile.
Indrid grabbed a piece of sausage, a few biscuits, and a piece of fish. Rayne usually wasn’t hungry in the morning. When he did eat, it was always light. He would only eat fruits, vegetables, nuts, and seeds.
Every day, Alexandal’s handmaids would bring fresh towels and clothes. But for two years they’d been bringing a royal order from The Temple’s healer and a bottle of pills. Rayne’s prescription was mandatory. They called it a vitamin. It’s for the king’s health, they’d claim.
Montague leaned in close to Rayne’s ear. He was almost as tall as Montague. “Did you take a pill from the maids today?”
Rayne opened his mouth. The small capsule lay on the tip of his tongue.
“Good,” Montague said, smiling, putting out his hand.
The young king spit the capsule into Montague’s palm. Once, Rayne had swallowed a pill. Montague tried to give him an emetic, but it didn’t work.
Burton Lang had been only four years old when he’d first begun to remember his true identity as an angel among men. Rayne was already six. Was it possible that the handmaids were giving the boy pills to retard his memory? Montague wondered. He tried to assess Alexandal’s agenda ever since the incident with the mage.
In the eight short years Montague had known the boy, Rayne had always been peaceful and respectful. Montague loved him and cared for him like a son. He had long, black hair just like his mother. He was quiet and kept to himself. But the fact that witchcraft had been attempted during his delivery caused Montague to worry, so he stayed close to Rayne. Every day, Montague thought about what Olivia had said about her dreams on the day that she had died. She was petrified. What if the mage was trying to possess the child’s soul prior to birth or invite a demon to dwell within him? Montague had only pretended to put a protective spell on Olivia before Rayne had entered the world. What if the mage had been successful and the boy was tainted? Maybe there was evil lying dormant, a demon waiting to possess him. If a demon was set free upon the world, it could mean the end of time for Men.
Rayne had not shown any presage of supernatural abilities—yet. Montague had tried to read his body signature, but the boy’s aura was invisible to him. If Rayne was the angel that he and Burton summoned, he would be neutral, favoring neither the light nor the darkness. That’s what his sensei had once said. Now Montague had to make sure that the boy would not be seduced by evil persuasion.
“Come. The people await their king.”
The arena was crowded. Because of the stormy skies, the master masons had built a temporary roof to prevent the arena ground from turning to mud, hoping that someday they would see and feel the sun’s light again. Firelight from torches and lanterns illuminated the area.
The people of Ikarus were prepared for a full day of entertainment.
Montague led Rayne and Indrid to the royal table where Gretchen and Anna were already sitting. Indrid chose his spot first and sat next to Anna. The Ikarus shield hung high above the backdrop of the royal seats. Red and plum silk draping dressed the towering walls and rolled in the gentle wind. Olive branch engravings wrapped around the stone pillars that supported the stadium seats.
When the audience saw Rayne, they applauded. But Montague heard the obligation in some of their cheers. Since the boy barely ventured outside the castle, his appearance reminded people of his oddity every time they saw him.
As in the past seven birthdays of his king, Lord Alexandal was absent. He would take a small brigade to the edge of the plateau to ward off wild folk that were taunting the guards at Faux Tower, or scan the farm fields because of a reported theft. He always had an excuse. So far, like the results of the previous mixtures he’d tried before, Montague’s attempt to detox the steward of the copper with his new concoction had produced no change in Alexandal’s behavior. He had been adding custard shells and charcoal to Alexandal’s soup for the past few days. It would take some time. And it was too early to tell. There had been no evidence of him dealing with the enemy.
The day-long festival began. Throughout the jousting competitions and chariot races, Montague enjoyed the children’s excitement. It lifted his spirits. He loved to see them smile. They had so much life, just living in the moment. Neither Indrid nor Anna cared that Rayne’s skin was gray or that he grew the way he did. They’d accepted him as he was.
After dinner, sword fighting preceded the finale. The display dazzled Indrid. It was the only part of the show that took his eyes from Anna.
Then came the event’s climax: The execution of criminals. Elephants were escorted out of their cages by guards carrying torches to protect themselves from what was to be released soon after. Pounding drums echoed through the stone architecture. Montague saw the concern in Gretchen’s eyes. She didn’t approve of Rayne watching this. Not at his age.
“Montague,” she cried.
“Come,” Montague said to Rayne. “Let’s retire for the night.”
“No. Let him stay, Greta. He can take it,” Indrid said. “Please.”
“I understand what happens here,” Rayne said. “I’d like to stay.”
“I’m sorry, my love, but this is not for young eyes,” Gretchen said. “You may be the king, but I’m more of a mother to you than anyone. Now go.”
Anna got up. “I’ve already seen this and I don’t want to see it again. I’ll go with you.”
“Wait,” Indrid said, rising to his feet. But he hesitated to speak as if he was trying to think of a reason for them to stay. “Nevermind,” he said. He scowled at
