Shadows of Atlantis: Fulcrum

Fulcrum

Part 2: Bavendrick and Vinesia

Curtains were flung from the window, a violent assault of cold air and sunlight, flooding into the room. Bavendrick tried to shield himself by pulling covers over his head.

“Up, up up!” Kyliron clapped his hands in steady rhythm.

A woman stirred at the prince’s side, squinting and batting at the light with her hand. Vinesia Shanel buried her face in the soft spot between Bavendrick’s chest and shoulder, her luxurious brown hair spilling down his arm “Get out, Kyliron.” The older prince commanded his brother.

“But it’s time to do your duty for Atlantis. I was sent to rouse you.” Kyliron’s eyes drifted downward. “Well, not that kind of rousing.” He stuffed a date in his mouth and laughingly threw himself on the bed. He tried to lift the covers and steal a peek at Vinesia’s body. She kicked his hand away. “There’s a small feast in your lounge. I brought some dates.” Kyliron tossed the dried fruits at the lovers.

Bavendrick reached for them and plopped one in his mouth, struggling to a sitting position. Vinesia accepted Bavendrick’s offer to feed the other to her. She met his eyes and sank her teeth into a bite of the creamy fruit. He growled as he watched her lips and met her eyes. “Can you just leave us alone?” Bavendrick pleaded. “Before I have to break it to my new mate that I have a lover.”

Vinesia scrunched her face.

“Do what makes you happy, brother,” Kyliron tossed another date into his mouth and hopped off of the bed. “I’ll be outside with the food and elixirs until you get done in here.” His eyes caressed the outline of Vinesia’s curves before he stepped from the room and closed the door behind him.

She rolled on top of Bavendrick and wrapped her legs around him gently pounding his chest to push herself into a sitting position. “We’ve already had this talk, Bavendrick. My family is too important for me to be a kallista, not even the favored lover of the High King.”

He grabbed her wrists. “I know. I had to say something to Ky. He wouldn’t have gone away.” They remained intertwined. So many words to be said, and yet nothing came out. Only love. They had shared an undying passion that had barely waited past childhood to bloom. And as most young love was said to fade, theirs had only grown. Soulmates.

Tears wetted her face as he pressed his lips to hers, his fingers buried in her hair. He kissed the tears away. “This can’t be the last time we kiss. I won’t let it. I can’t… let you go.”

She rested her face in the warmth of his neck and surrendered, held still by the tension that she knew would torture them for the rest of their days. She had intended to wake up and be gone, turn her back and never return to the palace, never again look on the face of the man she had grown to love until she was ready to accept that he would no longer belong to her.

But instead she stayed, savoring his touch until they were lost in the slow rhythm of their love, clinging hopelessly to their final moments together.

~*~

When they finally emerged from the sleeping chambers, a small army of servants was busy preparing Bavendrick’s wardrobe for the day’s activities. Kyliron was perched on the long sill of a tear-shaped window, one leg bent and the other straight. His dark eyes flicked to the lovers as they emerged. The servants had grown accustomed to her presence, but there was an awkward stutter in their actions as they made themselves too busy to be involved.

Maydrian Yarrin ambushed Bavendrick. “You’re late, Your Highness,” he inclined his head toward the steaming tub. With a clap of the maydrian’s hands Bavendrick was swept into the chaos of preparation. Clearing his throat, Yarrin tugged at Vinesia’s robe to coax her to the garden balcony.

“My Lady,” he began, his voice pitched delicately. “I must beg the generosity of your pardon for what I am to share with you.”

The weight of impending loss cast a shadow on her beautiful face which gave him a moment of pause. She knew what he was about to say.

“I have been told to inform you that you are no longer to visit His Highness in the palace. We are to send you home to Dragonspine at your father’s earliest convenience.”

She puffed her chest with a sigh. “I understand.”

“It’s just that, His Highness is meeting his mate impending today…”

“I know, Yarrin. Thank you.” She dismissed him, her eyes threatening to ignite with warning. As he scurried away, Kyliron stepped to her side and slipped an arm around her. She looked down at the hand now wrapped around her waist, squeezing her pelvic bone.

“Don’t worry, Vinesia, I’ve got your back,” his words were delivered with such compassion that she leaned into his offer of solace, despite the implied intimacy of his touch. “How about if you accompany me tonight to watch the arrival?” he added.

She glared at him with her lips pressed together, the corners of her mouth lifted. “How is that supposed to help?”

“Well, sometimes if you look the source of your pain right in the eye, it helps you defeat it.”

There was a strange logic in his reasoning, and she found herself considering it.

~*~

D’Vinid showed up at court with his entourage in tow, none of whom he could truly call friend. He didn’t care, anyway. Friendship wasn’t the name of the game at court. They made him look good, and he made them look good. Status was what mattered. The more followers a courtier had, the more influence they attracted. And as much as he wished he could be different, he cared about accumulating influence tallies.

Everyone who played the game of wealth wielded a palm crystal to keep track of their tallies. When he played a song, his admirers would press their palms to his and transfer their appreciation from their own bank of influence. Tallies were stored in the crystals until they were brought to regional commercians and counted into generic influence that could be used as currency in any market. The basic trade of merit had become the preferred currency in all ten Atlantean kingdoms. Tallies meant more comfort, independence and freedom, and those were things D’Vinid desired.

The lush gardens of the king and queen’s shared court were a masterpiece of vibrant patterns and colors. Among the blossoms mingled influential courtiers endowed with manicured style. Billowing fabric, sashes, patterns, lace, bejeweled headdresses all served to show their wealth and taste. D’Vinid wove through the crowd and ducked into the garden alcove where kallistas lined up, their beauty on display to be chosen as escorts for the night. He always made a point of choosing a few to join his entourage.

It was then that he saw Kyliron. He was escorting a stunning woman, her brown hair pulled into a thick cascade of braids spilling from a band of red jewels. She wore a mask over her eyes and mouth which was uncommon in the royal court, but not unheard of.

D’Vinid wondered if he could guess who his guest was. He stepped closer just in time to hear what Kyliron was saying. His demeanor suggested that he was teasing, and yet D’Vinid sensed a hint of cruelty behind his words once he realized who the woman was behind her clever disguise.

“Look, Vin, you can come here after Bavendrick is joined, put yourself on display for some other influential mediator to adopt into his bed.” He stepped closer and twirled one of her dark braids around his finger. “Or perhaps I might get a turn with you.”

She slapped his hand away and burned him with the fire in her eyes. “I am a daughter of the Shanel mediator lineage. You’re suggesting I become some sort of kallista? Why would I do that?”

“I’m just teasing.” He caught sight of D’Vinid. “Ah!” He threw his arms wide, raising his voice to fill the alcove. “Here he is! The best musician in all of Poseidia. Adorned with all the finest company as usual.”

D’Vinid threw Vinesia a look of concern and slapped Kyliron into a side hug. “Your Highness! Always a pleasure.” He pushed the prince toward the kallistas and slid into Vinesia’s space. “What are you doing here?” His voice was nearly a whisper.

She pressed her fingers to her brow. “I don’t know. I let Ky talk me into it. His reasoning seemed logical then. But now… can you help me escape?”

“I got your back.”

But D’Vinid didn’t have to. Loressai Torbin appeared in the entry plaza, her face drawn, her eyes flitting about with a hint of madness. Kyliron’s attention was entirely stolen. Entranced, he moved toward her, his prank, or whatever it was he was trying to pull, now forgotten. In all his self-absorption he didn’t begin to realize Loressai’s condition. He approached her, puffed up with bravado, and oozing his most charming expression. Vinesia shook her head and stepped between them.

D’Vinid helped, pulling Kyliron aside. “Take a closer look,” he nodded toward Loressai, at the dark circles under her eyes, the soiled marks on her clothing, the way her hands shook, the distraught tightness of her face.

Kyliron tilted his head. “Is she… was she… attacked maybe?”

“It sure looks like it. Maybe you should find out what happened and perhaps bring her discreetly to your parents?”

Kyliron nodded quickly, seeing it only as a chance to win her trust.

D’Vinid watched the trade-off. Vinesia happily released the girl into Kyliron’s care, not daring to approach the king herself.

“Wasn’t she the Subterran dignitary?” D’Vinid kept his voice just loud enough for Vinesia to hear.

Vinesia prickled. “She is?”

“What did she say?”

“She kept muttering the same thing. Then she wanted to see the king.”

“What was she muttering?”

She looked through him, a cloud darkening her beautiful, feathery eyes. “They’re all dead.”

They stared at one another. The courtyard felt suddenly cold as ice.

~*~

Loressai Torbin stared straight ahead. Her lips moved, but no words escaped her mouth. She wasn’t sure how long she had been in in the room where she now sat. That insufferable prince was watching her, his face set in a mask of compassion. She startled at the sound of the door opening, the face of the king, that strangely familiar face. It had been eating at her since their first meeting in Tartessos. She knew that face, and yet, she didn’t know how.

The other prince entered with him. He was the one Teya was supposed to mate with. Sweet-faced Teya from the dreamclan that lived in Subterra. She was always so innocent, so utterly inappropriate for the role that life had given to her. And now she was dead.

Loressai squeezed her eyes tight and focused her attention on the older prince, the heir to the high throne of Atlantis. She wondered if he would have found love with the sweet girl who was meant to breed with him, inject her elemental Lemurian blood into the royal line. For what? To create a creature of some sort? She couldn’t protect the girl. Loressai was a failure.

The king’s voice sliced through her haunted thoughts like a blade of fire. She shook out of her trance. Her eyes darted to the king’s calm, menacing face. They wanted to know what happened. She had to tell them. But she had failed. It was her fault. And now sweet Teya was dead.

“The ship docked,” she forced her trembling voice into action, “They were… like… a swarm of shadows. Nightmares. They surrounded us. The temple priests, your priests, they had come to greet us, and I watched as…” She succumbed to her terror. Tears escaped her eyes. “They died. Horribly.” She covered her mouth, her eyes fixed and watering. “Then the others. And I was the only one they didn’t touch. They left me. It’s my fault! My fault!” She collapsed into a weeping mass.

While the two princes listened closely, their eyebrows knitted together, the king was carved stone, still and calm with no trace of emotion. No one had anything to say until Bavendrick separated himself from the stultifying sympathy.

He was quickly on his feet and leaning out the door to address the sentinels. “Go, have someone come and lead us to the rooms prepared for the Subterrans. Find temple healers and guardians. Have them meet us there.”

“I have more questions…” Koraxx spoke low and steady, his eyes devouring his oldest son.

Bavendrick snapped before the king could continue. “Can’t you see? She needs help. Get your answers later. She cannot endure reliving what horrors she just witnessed.” His vision landed on Kyliron.

His brother’s face was pressed into confused interest. Steadily Kyliron rose to his feet with a hesitant glance at their father’s dark expression. With a gulp, he took Loressai’s other arm to help Bavendrick escort the lady to her guest accommodations.

She leapt at shadows in the corridors, her body a walking mass of trembling fear. Kyliron threw a concerned look at Bavendrick, following his brother’s lead. It had taken him most of his life to figure out what it was he lacked that Bavendrick had. It was empathy. Kyliron had none. Neither did their father. But thanks to his brother and their mother, he had something to study, behavior to strive for. He had found it was much like trying to describe vision to a blind person. He adopted the most gentle touch he could to help Loressai to her bed, keeping his mouth shut, trying to understand what had happened to the strong feminine beauty he had met in Tartessos.

Bavendrick was glad for his brother’s help, and even more impressed that he stood up to their father with him. Kyliron was always Koraxx’s loyal son, kept on a tight leash, ruled by authority and duty.

Bavendrick often disagreed with their father’s heavy hand. Explosions like these were becoming more frequent. He cared too much for the welfare of those who needed help. He had a strict code of honor, and when it was overstepped, he made sure to point it out. He was the heir, after all. But his thoughts lingered on how this turn of events would affect him.

The incident with the Fulcrum in Tartessos was often brought up in meetings. His betrothed was dead. Murdered. The fact that his blood-bonded betrothal was now at an end meant only one thing to him. Vinesia. And he felt horrible for thinking it.

~*~

Court mingled on, oblivious to the idea that their reason for assembling in revelry would soon be halted with tragic news. D’Vinid and Vinesia lounged in a recessed part of the palace grounds. Their small branch of the revelry had its own flair, steeped in music, movement and poetry.

D’Vinid leaned back on a chaise lounge running his fingers over the strings of his dabrina. A low background vibration enhanced the mood, though its chords perched on the edge of warning.

Vinesia watched him from the neighboring lounge, her bare feet pressing into his leg, kneading with her toes, lost in thought. She hid behind the full-mask and braided disguise, hoping no one would recognize her. How she let Kyliron talk her into attending would always be a mystery. It was starting to feel like the most immature mistake she had ever made. But somehow, he had convinced her that it was good for her to look weakness in the eye.

Sulia Tierro glided into the courtyard, her face beaming at the sight of D’Vinid surrounded by his sexy and talented entourage. Vinesia could tell the elegant mediator heir was holding a recording-crystal ever so discretely in the palm of her hand. From its placement it seemed like a tally-crystal, but that was her clever ruse.

Vinesia quickly slipped off the lounge and offered it to Sulia, hoping the recording hadn’t captured her. Despite the disguise, she had been ordered by Maydrian Yarrin not to attend. Her presence was disrespectful, at best.

Even if Kyliron were actually there to take the blame like he had promised, she was the one who willfully went against a royal request. With a breath and a glance toward D’Vinid, she faded out of the court, keeping to the edges. Her steps melded with shadows and wind until Vinesia Shanel disappeared from sight.

D’Vinid wove an arpeggio in a twisting melody, his eyes fixed on Sulia as if his fingers delivered words. She met his gaze and quickly understood why he had the reputation he did. Women loved him. And if his attention was on them, their hearts were lost. She could feel the pull of his charm, the ecstasy of his attention. Instead of being drawn in, she pointed the recording-crystal in his direction and leaned back in the chaise with an innocent smile.