“It wasn’t just me,” Relam said, shrugging. “I couldn’t have done it if Oreius had not shown me the way.”
“Oh? What way was that?”
Relam smiled. “Ask him about it. Better yet, visit his garden and think on it. I’m sure it will come to you.”
Tar shook his head. “I’m impressed, Relam. You have moved beyond my humble teachings to something greater. Something much, much greater.”
The sword master bowed slightly, and moved off to gather his pupils and send them home. Relam stood there a moment longer, savoring the scene of happiness and peace. Then he turned and began making his way back to the palace. There was still another battle to be resolved.
Night was falling by the time Relam trotted up the palace steps, nodding to the guards as he passed. Inside the palace itself the servants were just starting to light lanterns in all of the corridors to stave off the darkness. Relam climbed the staircase to the next level and followed the familiar path home, eventually ending up in front of the door to the royal suite. Four guards stood at the entrance, none of them Relam’s, so he went past and knocked on the first of the guest rooms he had assigned to his personal guards. There was a brief pause, then the door swung open to reveal Eric, still dressed for battle.
“You made it back,” he observed. “Did you settle the lordling?”
Relam smiled slightly. “Yes. Permanently.”
Eric’s eyes widened and Relam hastened to explain. “I didn’t kill him,” he said quickly. “It’s just that we have settled our differences. All of us. They are no longer my enemies.”
“Ah, well, that’s good,” Eric said. “I’ll tell the others you’re back I suppose. Anything else, sir?”
“That’s all,” Relam replied. “See you in the morning.”
“Yes, sir.”
The door swung shut and Relam heard the bolt slam home, securing the entrance. Smiling slightly, Relam returned to the door to the royal suite, pushing through it. Just across the threshold, he froze.
His father was waiting, standing by the dining alcove, where a veritable feast had been laid out. The king noticed Relam and turned to face him immediately, wringing his hands anxiously.
“Son,” he said, his voice catching slightly. “Can . . . can we talk?”
Relam nodded. “Any time, father.”
The king released a shaky laugh and gestured to the armchairs around the fireplace. “We’ll eat in a moment,” he said. “Unless you want to clean up first-”
“That can wait,” Relam said, cutting him off. “It’s been a long day.”
“Yes,” his father agreed. “It has.”
Relam waited for his father to continue the conversation, but he seemed to be at a loss for words. Finally, Relam decided to broach the subject himself. “Is this about the fight last weekend?”
His father’s head jerked up, and they stared at each other for a long moment, the king’s eyes full of guilt and sadness, the prince’s betraying nothing.
“I’m so, so, sorry,” Relam’s father whispered. “I don’t know what happened to me when . . . when your mother died. There is no way to describe the pain, no words to help you understand the abyss inside.” His voice broke and his eyes filled with tears again. “I was helpless,” he whispered. “Helpless and hopeless. And then came the anger, and it dragged me out of the depths, but in that span I did some things I fear were unforgiveable.”
“They weren’t,” Relam assured his father, touching his broken nose gently. “Time will heal all. There is no lasting damage. I won’t even hold a grudge about it. I’m just glad your back.”
“Well, not entirely,” his father said, voice trembling. “Part of me died with your mother. But I am slowly finding myself again. Finding purpose.” He frowned suddenly. “Clemon seems to be doing his level best to help with that. He brought in a mound of paperwork this morning and threatened to sit on me until I took care of it all.”
Relam gave a lopsided grin. “And how did that work out for him?”
“The threats of a scrawny chatelain are not to be ignored,” the king replied gravely. Then, he couldn’t stop the smile from breaking through. “As though Clemon could ever restrain me,” he added. “He also told me that you were the one responsible for helping me out of that black pit of despair.”
“It was nothing,” Relam assured him. “I just yelled whatever came to mind. It seems to have worked.”
“No,” his father said, shaking his head. “No, nobody else could have dragged me from within myself so effectively. None of Clemon’s talks of duty stirred me. Only my son could have saved me as he did.”
Relam felt his own eyes start to tear up. He leaned forward and embraced his father, felt the king’s strong arms go around him. They sat there for some time, father and son, united once more.
Chapter 33
Weeks passed. The trees began to lose their leaves, littering the city streets with brown, red, orange, and gold. The air turned crisp, but not cold. The weather stayed fair, with none of the terrible gales that sometimes raced down from the north.
During that span, Relam trained with Oreius five days a week, continuing to develop his fighting skills and his battle awareness. His sixth sense was growing ever stronger, and it was becoming easier and easier for Relam to focus on an opponent and remain aware of his surroundings. Occasionally, Narin would sneak up and join the fight, but Relam was never caught unawares. Often, he turned the tables on his
