Thump, thump, thump…
A steady heartbeat. Calm. Even.
A lesser man would’ve been paralyzed with anxiety; after all, Kamran was fighting against two Anakes for his rightful crown. He, however, was calm even as he left his fleets behind and returned to the Nexus. He didn’t publicize his presence—it would’ve been so easy for Halbast to take advantage of his absence from the frontlines if he only knew that Kamran had left—but he’d still sent word ahead, arranging a meeting with some men who could make a world of difference.
Despite the gravity of the meeting ahead, as Kamran exited his ark and set foot in his palace in the Nexus once again, breathing in the air of Torn Sky and hearing the beginnings of the festival in the streets below, he smiled and felt his shoulders begin to relax.
He waved off the attendants who had come to welcome him back home and to give him various reports. Harder to wave off was Dionysias, who had come out on his own to welcome his Lord back to his palace.
“Lord Kamran,” Dionysias said, his head lowering slightly. Kamran might have taken offense at anyone else merely inclining their head when greeting him officially instead of bowing or fully kowtowing, but he was in a forgiving mood—and besides, Dionysias was who he was, and that afforded him privileges.
“Dio,” Kamran replied as he pulled his regent into a tight embrace, a broad smile spreading across his face. “My friend. How have you been?”
“Well,” Dionysias replied as they separated, though the smile he wore was tighter than Kamran’s. “Your city has done well, too.”
“I’ll hear of my city soon enough,” Kamran said as he started walking off the arkpad, accompanied only by Dionysias and a handful of guards shadowing them from a distance. “Right now, I’m more of a mind to hear about certain specific people. How is Ariana? Has she been told of what is to come?”
“Yes, Lord,” Dionysias replied.
Warmth bloomed for a moment in Kamran’s chest as he thought about his da—his ward, he reminded himself, as he did every time he thought about her—but that warmth faded only a moment later when Dionysias continued.
“She was distressed.”
Kamran paused. The affairs of his realm could wait. The affairs regarding Ariana could not. “Distressed? How so?”
Dionysias shifted uncomfortably, a pall falling across his face. “She would not tell me. Eventually, she refused to see me altogether, sending her slave out to speak with me whenever I came to check in on her. I…” He halted, visibly searching for words. “… I checked with her staff. They refused to speak, as well, but I did hear reports of a great many pieces of broken furniture and glassware being removed from her tower…”
Some of that tension that had immediately come to Kamran’s shoulders loosened, but only by a hair or two. Still, he smiled and began walking again. “I am not surprised,” he said. “That girl has always been willful.”
“I shall not comment,” Dionysias stated, a slight grimace crossing his face as he studiously avoided looking in Kamran’s direction.
It was easy enough to see why: Ariana had always been a difficult girl, having grown up without her own mother.
‘Or father,’ Kamran reminded himself, even as the ghost sensation of his hands gliding over her mother’s smooth skin came to him.
She’d made no small amount of trouble for Kamran in her life, so much so that he’d overheard some quietly questioning why he would allow her to remain in his palace. Many had hit upon the correct answer, but Kamran had silenced all who spoke of it wherever he could hear. He would not hear any besmirchments upon the honor of Ariana’s mother, nor would he allow her father to be disrespected by such talk, no matter how correct it may have been.
A brief wave of shame washed over him as he thought about that, but he’d grown used to that by this point that he ignored it easily enough.
“How has the war progressed?” Dionysias asked as they began gliding through the wide halls of Kamran’s palace, seeking to reach their destination sooner than their dignified feet would allow.
“It has… progressed,” Kamran snapped. “Do not speak of it. Not now.”
Dionysias shrank back like a struck dog, and for a moment, Kamran felt that shame again. But he ignored the feeling.
“I do not wish to speak of that now,” he said more softly this time. “Anurak and Johan have arrived, haven’t they?”
“They have, Lord,” Dionysias confirmed.
“Then you have your answer,” Kamran pointedly stated.
Dionysias went quiet then, accompanying Kamran to the foot of Ariana’s tower before excusing himself. Truly, Kamran would’ve preferred to handle this war without relying on other Anakes, but his only other route for escalation that he hadn’t employed yet was his Universe Fragments, and he didn’t want to break those out, not yet. Doing so would invite challenges from others with similar powers hoping to curb his use, or from those without those powers and who were looking to gain them.
Better to keep his greatest means in reserve. A few razed planar clusters were hardly cause to break them out.
He put those thoughts out of his mind for the moment. Visiting Ariana was not a time for filling his head with such thoughts. Instead, he pushed open the heavily enchanted door, which had been keyed into his blood, Ariana’s, and that of her slaves, and no one else. No one, after all, was allowed into her great tower.
With his guards halting at the door, Kamran entered the lavish hall. The hall led to a central chamber, with doors leading to adjacent rooms around the tower’s edge. In the center was a grand staircase, spiraling upward seemingly into oblivion.
Kamran ascended quickly, passing enough floors that a mortal would’ve collapsed trying to get up them all, and reached the top-floor antechamber. Once there, he looked down at himself, noting a few creases in his tunic. He straightened first the creases, and then himself, then took a few deep breaths to steady himself.
And then he politely, but insistently, knocked.
He waited longer than any great King should have to. He waited so long that a lesser man would have lost patience and knocked again. He waited because Ariana knew not to leave him unacknowledged, even if she often flexed her independence by making him wait, even when she wanted to see him.
Soon enough, the door creaked open, and an eighth-tier woman stuck her aged face into the antechamber.
“Go away,” the old woman croaked. “My mistress is not to see you!”
Kamran smiled and leaned against the doorframe, his arms folding across his chest. “And why not?” he asked. “Does she not sleep under my roof? Eat from my table? Have I not given her all that her heart could desire? And she still won’t see me?”
The old woman, great actor that she was, still followed her mistress’ command. “Away with you!” she insisted, retrieving a broom from within and thrusting it through the door at him.
Kamran, still smiling, nimbly dodged the stiff bristles. The old woman was dressed as befitted her station: in all-black robes that didn’t cling to her overweight frame, while the golden chain inscribed upon her wrinkled neck gleamed brightly. Though a slave, she was an extension of Ariana, and Kamran gave her extreme leniency in that regard.
“I am not leaving,” he said firmly, and loudly enough that his voice carried into the room.
The old woman gave him a withering glare, but when he stepped forward, she stepped back. With one hand, he pushed the door open and strode in, ignoring the half-hearted whack that the slave gave the back of his head with the broom.
“The feast is in an hour,” he stated. “Is she getting ready?”
“The Lady Ariana is always ready,” the old slave sniped.
“Yes, but you know what I mean.” Kamran’s tone came clipped, a silent order to cut the performance. Though he indulged Ariana, this woman was still a slave, and he, a Lord.
“She is dressing now,” the slave replied, her eyes averting to the floor.
Kamran wasted not a second longer and headed for her dressing room.
The chambers at the top of the tower were luxurious, but the splendor was lost on Kamran. He had eyes only for Ariana’s door, in front of which three more slave girls were standing, ready for whatever their mistress needed. Unlike the old woman at the chamber door, they straightened politely as he arrived, not a word of complaint falling from their lips even as the old woman, still grumbling, scurried past Kamran to stand beside the door.
The old woman opened the door a crack and then ducked inside. Again, Kamran waited until the woman returned, squeezing herself through the door, which she had only opened just enough for her to do so.
“Is she decent?” Kamran asked. “May I enter?”
The old woman shot him a withering glare, but then stepped aside, allowing the door to open behind her.
Needing no more invitation, Kamran entered.
As was expected, a curtain had been drawn around the door, and he halted just before it.
“Ariana!” he called out. “My dear! I have returned!”
He heard shuffling, then the curtain flew open, and arms went around his neck. He might have thought he was being attacked if not for the laugh that accompanied this assault.
“Lord Kamran!” Ariana exclaimed, her breath hot against his ear, and thankfully, no sign of the distress that Dionysias had reported. “I had worried for you! I am so happy to see you returned!”
Kamran smiled so hard that his face hurt, and he embraced the girl right back, even after he used his magic to shut the door behind him. When he let her down, he took her in.
She was of average height, but decidedly not average beauty—she outshone the stars, the planes, and the Origin Spark itself in every way. Her eleventh-tier aura shone brilliantly, though it flickered enough to tell anyone familiar enough with such things that her ascension was recent. Her skin was pale and her hair as black as the Void, while adorning her graceful body was a stunning white dress woven with diamonds, opals, and Lumenite, all of which paled in comparison to the girl herself.
She smiled as fiercely as he was, even as he let her down. Her hair had been styled into a loose braid that had been pulled over her shoulder, and standing there looking like she did, Kamran’s eyes almost crossed, and it seemed almost like Diana had crossed the Aesii and once again walked among the living.
“Dear girl, you look incredible,” Kamran said, and Ariana almost preened from the praise. So warm was she that Kamran didn’t even question the old woman’s reluctance to let him into her chambers. He supposed it was simply standing orders not to let anyone in until Ariana was fully dressed. Or rather, he consciously chose to suppose that was the case.
Ariana, her smile glowing, spun before him, her dress glittering in the light of her expansive dressing room, while every stitch seemed to sing to his magic senses in a way that even he could hardly fathom.
“You’ll be the star of this festival,” Kamran said.
“I’m just glad you’re back,” she replied, and Kamran’s heart squeezed in pain from having been gone for so long. “It’s been lonely here, and I was…” Nervousness flitted across her face before she worked up the courage to say, “I read your last message. I… umm… marriage?”
Kamran stiffly laughed. “Yes, my girl. It’s time. I have invited several men who would make for worthy husbands, at least in terms of wealth and power. They’ll be handsome, too, and I’ll ensure that you are made the main wife, not a concubine. While they’re here, I was hoping to get a greater measure of their character.”
As he spoke, they ambled further into the dressing room, and Ariana sat on a plush divan close to the mirrors, while Kamran remained standing. She listened intently, though her face fell as he went on in a way that made Kamran’s heart hurt.
“Is there a problem?” Kamran asked.
“I… no, there isn’t,” Ariana said regretfully.
Kamran kneeled before her, taking her hands and pressing her knuckles against his forehead.
“Have I not loved you as a daughter?” he asked. “Have I not indulged your every whim? When have I ever denied you anything?”
“You never have,” Ariana said. “Not unless it was for my own good…” Her final words came out strained, and Kamran had to steel himself against the instinctive rage that exploded from within, the memory that inspired it hotter than the raging surface of the Nexus itself.
“I ask,” she continued, “because I am the one who dishonored you. And… I confess some worry about this match. It’s been so long…”
“The worry is why I waited until now,” Kamran explained. “I felt it, too. Worry for you, about what your life might be like if taken away to where I could not protect you. But you achieved Apotheosis. You are strong, strong and secure, and I assure you that I won’t pick anyone who would ever abuse you in any way—and if they do, you know that I will burn the Nexus to bring you back to safety.”
She smiled nervously, but said, “It’s a political match. To help with your war.”
Kamran sighed as he finally let her hands fall. “I have not reduced your happiness by reducing this match to politics. As I said, the men I’ve invited are worthy of you. That necessarily means that they’re powerful, but it is not their power that I seek. It is your happiness.”
Ariana shuddered, a glittering tear falling from one of her dark, storm cloud-colored eyes. She then launched herself off the divan and once again threw her arms around him. He caught her despite his surprise and held her close.
“I do not deserve this,” she sobbed into his shoulder. “Not after my betrayal…”
“That was a long time ago,” Kamran said, his fingers twitching with the thought of strangling that small bureaucrat, that nobody, who had thought to claim Ariana as his. He faltered a bit when he thought of the result of that dalliance, of the child of Ariana’s blood that Kamran couldn’t bring himself to kill, but he once more steeled himself and added, “Youthful indiscretions are to be expected. You had your fun, but now it is time to focus on the future.”
Ariana returned her slippered feet to the plush carpet. Her eyes were wet, but her shaking had stopped.
“I know,” she said with such gravity that Kamran’s blood went cold. She wasn’t commenting on what he’d just said, but rather saying that she knew something. He had many secrets, not wanting to involve her in his schemes—he only wanted to show her the paradise that would come after he was finished, not the oceans of blood that he had to spill to reach it.
“Good,” he said, his voice wavering only slightly. “The future is—”
“No,” she interjected insistently. “I know. That you’re my father. My real father.”
Kamran was struck silent, unable to respond.
“It makes sense,” Ariana said. “You call me your ward, a child who survived the deaths of her parents—your close friends… but that wouldn’t explain all that you’ve done for me, nor the warmth you’ve treated me with, nor the grace you’ve given me when I’ve made mistakes. But it would if you were my real father.”
Kamran shook his head slowly. “Any man who steps up…” he said, his voice failing for a moment, but he summoned the same strength and willpower that had seen him rise to his current station to finish his statement. “Any man who steps up to raise a child in need is a ‘real’ father. Blood doesn’t have anything to do with it.”
“You have been my father in all things,” Ariana said. “But you are also my father by blood. I know.”
Quietly, so quietly that Kamran himself could barely hear his own words, he replied, “You can’t.”
“I can,” she insisted.
A flash of a smile, a laugh as beautiful as a windchime, and eyes that had captured all of the beauty of the Void and none of the dangers; all these passed through Kamran’s mind. He then remembered that night, when Diana’s husband, one of Kamran’s closest friends, was in the planes leading a fleet against a mysterious fleet that had been harassing Kamran’s forces after sterilizing an outer plane. A barrel of the finest tenghren, a kind of liquor made from tiny blue berries that only grew in the mountains of a distant plane; that smile, challenging him to act on the feelings he’d always concealed; a mistake that they both did their best to forget.
Diana’s husband returned soon enough afterwards that Ariana’s parentage couldn’t have been known without blood magic—her appearance took enough after her mother that just looking at her, Kamran couldn’t tell whose she was.
But… in his heart of hearts, he knew that she was right. She was his. She was born ‘early’.
He had to fight not to tear up, and he slowly pulled Ariana back into a hug.
“I-I…” he sputtered. “We will speak of this later.” He released his hold on her, though she took another moment to do the same. “I h-have to greet my guests. Anurak and Johan, at least. The real discussions will come after the feast, but f-for now… I shouldn’t keep them waiting. My dear girl… be r-ready. Are you ready? For your debut?”
She gave him the sweetest smile he’d seen since the first time he’d met Diana, and it broke his heart in two. He smiled at her, then turned to the door.
As his fingers touched the doorknob, he heard her say, “I’ll make you proud today, Father.”
He couldn’t help himself. Tears started flowing freely, and he had to summon his power to stop them and keep himself composed.
“You don’t have to,” he said. “You already have.”
Then he left before he broke down completely. He sped past Ariana’s slaves, ignoring them completely as he rushed to get somewhere where he could fully compose himself before greeting Anurak and Johan.
And then after that… the opening feast. The festival. Some traditional tributes.
And then… his daughter would leave him.
He already knew that he would need quite a bit of mettle to keep his cheer up. This was supposed to be a festival, after all…
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