Rhuobhe Manslayer had remained with Azrai not out of any love for the dark lord, but out of a fierce hatred of humans. After the battle, he became awnsheghlien, and together with the renegade band of elves who followed him, he had seized a small portion of the Aelvinnwode on the northeastern border of Boeruine, where he still relentlessly pursued the gheallie Sidhe, for which he had won the appellations of Manslayer and Foresttaker, both of which he had defiantly adopted as his own.
The Prince of Tuarhievel did not seem to share his great-grandfather’s belief that the only good humans were dead ones, but it was difficult to tell precisely what Fhileraene believed. His mother, Queen Ibeicoris, was still the ruler of Tuarhievel, but Fhileraene held the actual reins of power in the elven kingdom. Though he traded with the humans, he still maintained good relations with his great-grandfather, the Manslayer, whose followers were made welcome at his court. Though he outwardly condemned the gheallie Sidhe, there were still sporadic outbreaks of it in his kingdom, and human traders who did business with Tuarhievel did so at their own risk.
With hostile territory abutting more than half its borders, Boeruine was a vital outpost of the empire, and the emperor took pains to ensure that Lord Arwyn was always kept aware of the important role he played in the interests of the Iron Throne. Summer Court at Seaharrow, therefore, was more than merely a holiday for the nobles of Anuire. It was also a time for important business of the empire to be conducted and for political alliances to be reaffirmed.
Arwyn of Boeruine was well aware of his important position in the empire, and he took it very seriously. Each year, before the Imperial Court arrived, he took on an additional staff of servants from the town, in addition to court pages, an honored and coveted function fulfilled by children of Seasedge. Seaharrow was swept and scrubbed from top to bottom, an enterprise that took up the entire spring season, and the kitchen larders were freshly stocked with game from the nearby forest and produce from the outlying farms. Visiting nobles and dignitaries arrived from all the nearby provinces, doubling the population of the town and filling its inns to overflowing. It was a busy time for Seaharrow and the town of Seasedge, and the Archduke Arwyn went to great lengths to make certain everything ran smoothly.
Consequently, he became extremely agitated when word reached him that Aedan Dosiere was coming up the path to the castle, trailed by the survivors of the reenacted Battle of Mount Deismaar and carrying the injured young heir to the throne in his arms.
So great was the archduke’s consternation that one might have thought it was his own son who had been gravely injured. His shouts roused the entire castle into a flurry of activity. He sent for the physicians and gave loud orders for the doubling of the guard at the gates and on the walls. He ordered water heated in case the prince’s wounds needed to be bathed, and he had servants running in a dozen different directions. In fact, the archduke was overdoing it a bit, purely for the sake of appearances, because secretly a thrill of excitement had run through him at the news.
Prince Michael was Emperor Hadrian’s only heir, and if anything happened to him, Arwyn himself, who was descended from the bloodline of Roele, would be the successor to the Iron Throne. At least, so he believed.
None of this impressed itself on Aedan, however, for he was worried to the point of panic over the young prince, who had been his responsibility. After being confronted by the archduke himself and informing him what happened, he had been dismissed with a rather ominous, “I shall deal with you later.” Then Lord Arwyn had personally taken Michael from his arms and carried him upstairs.
Had Aedan been a few years older and somewhat wiser in the ways of Imperial Court politics, he might have had second thoughts about turning Michael over to the man who stood to gain the most if anything should happen to him; but fortunately, Aedan’s father was on the scene, having been alerted by all the commotion, and did not leave Michael’s side even for one instant.
The fact that his father had not said a word to him made Aedan still more miserable, certain it was contempt that silenced him. However, that was not the case at all. The lord high chamberlain knew perfectly well that Arwyn was within one twist of his powerful wrists from possibly becoming next in line to assume the throne, not that Lord Tieran suspected the archduke of treachery. He simply had a healthy respect for the foibles of humanity and so would make sure Lord Arwyn was not unduly tempted. Under such circumstances, he could not spare any thought at all for his own son.
Fortunately for everyone, except perhaps Lord Arwyn, Michael’s injuries were no more severe than a mild concussion and nasty bruise on his forehead. The physicians bled him just a bit and ordered bed rest for a couple of days. Meanwhile the archduke took out his frustrations first on young Viscount Corwin, whom he ordered confined to the dungeons, and then on Aedan, whom he would also have thrown into the dungeons save for the fact that he did not wish to antagonize the lord high chamberlain, who was closer to the old emperor than any other man. He was therefore forced to satisfy himself with mercilessly browbeating Aedan until he ran out of breath, then dispatching him to clean the stables.
It was there that Lady Ariel found him, several hours later, shoveling manure and cursing his existence.
“Aedan?”
He looked up and saw her standing there, looking nothing like the screaming, armored banshee who had knocked him senseless earlier that day. She had changed into a simple, dark green velvet gown that fell to her feet, which were shod with dainty black slippers. She was bareheaded, her long blonde pigtails hanging down on either side of her chest. She looked like a perfectly normal little girl rather than the roughhousing tomboy that she was.
Aedan grimaced as he scraped horse droppings off the dirt floor and shoveled them into a wooden wheelbarrow. “What is it, Ariel?”
“Aedan, I just…” She hesitated. “I just came to say I am sorry.”
He merely grunted and resumed his work. “Well, think nothing of it.”
“I know that it was all my fault,” she said in a small voice. “What Corwin did, I mean. If I hadn’t struck you down, perhaps you could have stopped it.”
“It was my own fault,” said Aedan. “It serves me right for allowing a mere slip of a girl to knock me down. I should have been paying more attention. Frankly, I’d just as soon you didn’t mention it to anyone.”
“Well, I just thought that if I told your father what I did, he would know it was all my fault and wouldn’t blame you.”
Aedan froze, bent over his shovel. He glanced up at her with disbelief. “You told him?”
She nodded. “I did not wish to see you get in trouble. I went to him and said it was I who was to blame, and I would take whatever punishment was meted out, and he should not fault you for something you could not possibly have prevented because you were lying senseless on the ground when it occurred.”
Aedan shut his eyes and groaned inwardly. “Wonderful,” he said.
Ariel did not quite catch his sarcasm. She smiled and said, “I thought you would be pleased. And your father was very understanding. He said I was a brave girl for coming forward and telling him about it, and told me not to worry about being punished since no real harm was done. He also spoke with Lord Arwyn, and Corwin’s been released from the dungeons. So, you see? Everything’s turned out all right.”
“Just great,” said Aedan with a sigh of resignation.
“I only hope you’re not too angry with me for knocking you down,” said Ariel.
“No, Ariel, I’m not angry.”
“I never meant to hurt you.”