“Then I'll make damned sure she does refuse it,” he promised. The idea of R'shiel ruling the gentle Harshini was too bizarre, too horrible to contemplate.
Shananara smiled at him fondly. “I believe you would, Brakandaran. But it is not my decision, or yours. It is between Korandellan and the demon child.”
“She won't do it.”
“Perhaps. But the crown is hers for the taking should she ask for it.”
“She won't ask for it. R'shiel is driven by anger, not power for its own sake.”
“Your opinion of her has improved somewhat, I notice.”
“She's learning.”
“Yes, but what exactly have you been teaching her?”
He shrugged. “Only what I have to. But she's a quick study. She sees a thing once and remembers it.”
Shananara nodded. “Her tutors here said much the same thing. Unfortunately, she lacks wisdom and wisdom is something gained through experience, not learnt by rote, no matter how well meaning the teacher.”
R'shiel was gone for hours, leaving Brak little choice but to impatiently pace Shananara's chambers, waiting for news. Samaranan came to visit for a while, delighted to see her half-human sibling, but even his sister's smiling presence had a fragile edge to it. They spoke of inconsequential things, both of them avoiding the real reason Brak was here. The Harshini were averse to violence, but they were not blind to the consequences of Korandellan's collapse. They knew the demon child had returned and that Xaphista was as strong as ever. Their future was bleak and for a race unable to imagine such desolation, it was a trying time indeed.
Eventually, Dranymire materialised in the apartment, startling Brak with his sudden appearance.
“Lord Brakandaran. Your Highness. The King wishes to see you both.”
They hurried upstairs to Korandellan's chambers and found the doors open and waiting for them. Brak entered the room hesitantly, afraid of what he would find. R'shiel was waiting for them by the door to Korandellan's bedroom. She looked pale and rather chastened. Without a word she stood back to let them enter, and then followed them inside, closing the door behind her.
Brak was shocked by the King's appearance. Korandellan lay on the bed, his golden skin sallow and almost as pale as the sheets beneath him. He was as thin as a man who had not eaten for a month and his once bright eyes were dull and lifeless.
“Thank you, Brakandaran, for bringing the demon child home.” His voice, once so vibrant and resonant, was barely more than a hoarse whisper.
“It was her idea, Your Majesty. I merely showed her the way.”
The King smiled weakly. “It is good that you did... Shananara?”
“I'm here, Koran,” the Princess said, moving to her brother's side. Brak stepped back to let her pass. R'shiel had not moved from the door.
“R'shiel has come to lead our people home.”
“We are home, brother.”
“No. Sanctuary has been our prison these last two hundred years. The Citadel is our true home.”
“The Citadel?” Shananara's eyes flew to R'shiel in astonishment, then she looked back at the King. “You don't mean you want us to return to the Citadel?”
“We cannot be harmed there. The Citadel will protect us.”
“But what of the Sisterhood and their Defender henchmen?”
“There is no more Sisterhood,” R'shiel said from the door. “The Defenders are in charge. Tarja is the new Lord Defender. I have his word that the Harshini may return unmolested.”
Shananara glanced at her in disbelief then sat down beside Korandellan on the bed, taking his clammy hand in hers. “Don't worry about it now, Koran. We can discuss this when you've recovered.”
“I'll not recover, Shanan. You know that as well as I do. Take our people home. I charge you with their welfare.” Korandellan closed his eyes, as if the effort of so much conversation had exhausted him.
“Are you mad?” she asked R'shiel, softly. “How can you come here and offer him such false hope?”
“It's not a false hope, Shananara. The Harshini may safely return to the Citadel.”
She turned to Brak. “Is this true?”
He nodded. “I told you she had a plan.”
“You might have warned me what it was!”
The King's eyes opened again and he smiled at his sister. “You were always the practical one, Shanan. Do this thing for me. Our people need you.”
“They don't need me, Koran. The demon child will be their Queen once you are gone.”
“I've already told Korandellan I don't want the job,” R'shiel said.
“You see, sister, the demon child is wiser than you think.” Korandellan smiled wanly and held out his hand to R'shiel. She crossed the room and took it in hers. Brak was astonished to see that her eyes were filled with tears. “Do not regret what you have done, demon child. Think only on the good you will do in the future. You have what you need to defeat Xaphista, so remember what I have told you about the Seeing Stones. Do what you are destined for and be at peace with yourself.”
R'shiel nodded wordlessly then looked across at Brak. The King looked at him too, his dull eyes filled with forgiveness. “I give you the same advice, Brakandaran. Do not regret what you have done. Everything is as it should be. You have more than made amends for your mistakes. Face Death secure in that knowledge that your sacrifice was not in vain.”
“I will.”
“And you, Shananara. You are the last of the té Ortyn. It is up to you to see that we continue. Once you have returned to the Citadel, you should speak with Glenanaran. It is time you two had a child.”
Shananara smiled fondly at her brother. “If I wanted a child, what makes you think I would pick Glenanaran?”
“I know you too well, my dear.”
“That you do, brother. That you do.”
Brak looked up suddenly, as he felt a presence in the room. Although he could see nothing yet, he knew who it was. With a sharp glance at R'shiel, he waved her away from the bed. She could feel it too, but did not recognise it. Shananara leaned over and kissed Korandellan on the forehead, and then stepped back.
“What... ?” R'shiel began to ask, but Shananara glared at her so fiercely that she fell silent.
Death materialised slowly at the foot of the King's bed. He had chosen the benign aspect of the Harshini to welcome the King into his realm, although his robes were translucent and his black eyes hollow orbs, rather than the bright eyes of the Harshini. Korandellan smiled when he saw him, unafraid.
“You will sup with me this night, Your Majesty.” Death's lips did not move, but each of them could hear him, as if his voice spoke directly to their souls.
“You do me a great honour, my Lord, to escort me personally.”
“You do me the honour, sire. It is not often I am able to welcome one of your people into my home.” Death turned then and stared at R'shiel, who took a step back from him in fear. “There is no need to be anxious, demon child. You and I will not meet again for quite some time.” R'shiel did not answer him. She appeared frozen in shock. Death swivelled his head to stare at Brak. “But you and I will meet, Brakandaran, and soon, I suspect. Our bargain is almost fulfilled.”
“Well, don't get too excited,” Brak warned disrespectfully. “It's not done with yet.”
“I will be waiting, Brakandaran.”
“I never doubted that for a moment, my Lord.”
The spectre turned his attention back to Korandellan. “Are you ready, Your Majesty?”
“I am ready.”
Death raised his arm and pointed at Korandellan. As he did so, the King appeared to change. He began to fill out and his colour returned. His aura glowed with strength, pure and unmarked by fear or pain. This was Korandellan in his prime. His eyes brightened and he assumed such an aura of wellbeing that Brak expected him to leap off the bed. Instead, he rose slowly until he was standing, his weight making no impression on the down-filled mattress.