Chapter 1

Logan Gyre, High King of Midycru, Vanquisher of Khalidor and husband to Queen Jenine was late for dinner. Again. This time it honestly wasn't his fault. The maja representative from the Chantry, bearing a personal message from the Speaker Sister Viridiana had taken more time to deal with than he had thought and so the meeting with the Seth ambassador had been delayed so he had had to postpone his appointment with the Lae'knaught ambassador Tertulus… Ah, gone were the days when all a Cenarian king had to do was hide in his palace when the people revolted.

But not in his reign. Logan was High King of Cenaria and Khalidor, ally of Lae'knaught and Ceura.

He had more duties and responsibilities than he had thought possible. He had been prepared for all the headache when he had claimed the throne, no doubt, but sometimes his wife's schedule was hard to meet.

Logan hurried down the corridor, flanked by his faithful guard and companion, captain of the Order of the Garter Kadrosa Wyn. Behind her were two squadrons of her soldiers, all of them wearing shiny garters on their arms, and a few of Agon's Dogs. All in all there were almost thirty people trailing behind Logan at all times.

This miniature army guarded the High King and his family constantly. Eyes scanning every shadowy corner and every empty corridor, muscles perpetually tensed in anticipation of an unseen threat, they kept Logan alive.

Already there had been sixteen assassination attempts in fourteen years, ten of which had been in the first five years of Logan's reign, while he had yet to consolidate his kingdom. Kaldrosa bore a scar proudly on her cheek, a mark she had gotten when she had come too close to an assassin's Baldwin Logan's defence. Logan would not have lived this long if it hadn't been for his guards and he was grateful for their service.

Logan was a big man. Tall and broad with a head of unruly hair, blue eyes bright and twinkling with crow's feet and smile lines bracketing them and his mouth, carrying an aura of authority and majesty, Logan Gyre was a High King in every sense of the word. He wore rich clothes of red and gold sewn with his emblem, the gyrfalcon. His longsword he wore at his hip. The pommel of his sword was plain and dark, braided with silver and steel.

As Logan passed one of his meeting rooms, Duke Wesseros and the Lae'knaught ambassador stepped into his path.

Duke Wesseros beamed. "Ah, Your Majesty! Perfect timing. As I was just telling Tertulus here, it is my understanding that you have no more obligations for the day. As you both are here now, your meeting-"

Logan cut him off mid sentence, "Duke Wesseros, your understanding is wrong, actually. Ambassador Tertulus, I apologize to you for my haste and rudeness but as you can see, I am already late to meet my wife. I will try to accommodate you tomorrow, Ambassador."

The ambassador sneered. Wesseron's smile was not unlike a grimace.

Logan smiled at them both, nodded politely and bypassed them. As they walked away, Logan told Kaldrosa, "Make sure they get an audience with me tomorrow. It won't pay to put off the Lae'knaught any longer." Kaldrosa nodded.

Logan finally reached the massive and gaudy doors of the royal apartments. He had been meaning to change those to something understated and less conspicuous but never found the time for these smaller jobs. Just one more thing to add to the list.

Logan paused at the door long enough to hear high pitched voices shrieking muffled thumps of delicate objects landing on soft plush carpets.

Smiling, he strode into the large room and right into the middle of a giant pillow fight. It was boy's against girls. The royal princes and princesses, noble heirs to the High King and his Queen, were throwing large overstuffed pillows across the entire room. They screamed and squealed as pillows hit their mark and goose feathers floated around the room to land in dark disheveled hair. Projectiles that missed their targets instead hit expensive and irreplaceable antiques like the thousand year old Khalidoran vases or the Ceuran paintings hanging upon the wall. These either fell to the ground unharmed or were completely destroyed. There had never been a battlefield more chaotic.

Logan laughed as he tried to maneuver through the minefield, avoiding sharp toys and squealing bodies underfoot. He reached the other end of the room, where Queen Jenine was watching her children. She was a beautiful woman even at thirty years. Her long dark hair now had a few strands of silver in it and her warm face was wrinkling. This just made her even more attractive to Logan.

She watched him approach her. "Well, I think you know by now but you're late for dinner."

"I know," Logan sighed.

"Again," she added, almost like an afterthought. She glanced at him sidelong.

"Again," he agreed. "But this wasn't like last time. I did not go to the stables and get kicked by a horse again. It was all Vi's fault this time. She sent me a letter so I had to delay the rest of my meetings. I even had to cancel the negotiations with Lae'knaught."

She smiled at him sadly. He knew she understood the responsibilities of ruling. "I just want us all to have a nice dinner together, as a family. Once a week isn't too much to ask, is it?"

Logan winced. "I know," he said a second time.

The children finally seemed to notice their father. They climbed over each other to be the first to reach him. Logan laughed as he hugged every one of them.

Jenine had borne him seven strong and lively children. The twins were his oldest. Regnus and Kael were the sons Jenine had borne from her previous marriage to Godking Wanhope, who later was found out to be the mad prophet Dorian. Logan had raised the twins as his own and never let them think that he did not love them as his sons and heirs.

Regnus was the older twin. He was tall and handsome with hints to his Khalidoran father's colouring and features. He was a natural leader and charismatic commander. He was best at strategies in the battlefield and his skill with the sword was better than Logan's could ever be.

Kael on the other hand was his polar opposite. He had dark messy hair and his eyes were almost black with hints of blue. He was thin and gangly, easy to slip through small gaps in windows or in between people in a crowd. He was a pensive and solitary boy who preferred to find high places to climb where he could be alone. He bore an uncanny resemblance to someone Logan thought he would never see again.

The only thing Kael showed interest in was swordplay. He was swift and agile with an innate understanding of his opponent's movements. He could best anyone of his age, even his brother Regnus. He had even beaten some veterans of war and left them stunned and nursing bruises. Logan had become hard pressed to find a suitable instructor for the boy prodigy.

Logan's younger children were the most lively and wonderful lot he had ever seen. After Regnus and Kael came Serah. She was twelve years old and already a beauty, with her mother's features and her father's sparkling eyes. She would break the hearts of all the boys, but for now she was charmingly ignorant of it.

Nalia, Dorian and Lilly were almost triplets. Each separated by a year yet they were inseparable. They were the tricksters and would play pranks on anyone who was naïve enough to think they were safe. They all had their father's curly hair and a mischievous smirk on their faces. There was no place in the palace they had not explored.

The youngest one of them was Elene. She was the sweetest, most sincere person Logan had ever seen. She had the hands of a healer even at five years of age and always helped her siblings bandage their various cuts and bruises. She was the voice of reason for all of them. For some reason, Elene and Kael were closest to each other. She would follow Kael around even when he growled at her. In return Kael would growl at her less than any other sibling. He would buys her sweets and place them under her pillow to hide them from their mother. Elena was the delight of the family.

Logan spent as much time as he could with his children. He listened to their stories, looked at their drawings and played games with them. They did not release him until he could not stifle the yawns any longer and Jenine shooed them away to bed.

As Logan was going to his bed, he saw a drawing under the litter on the floor. He picked it up. It looked crude and childish, as though done with a shaky hand, but it was unmistakably a drawing of the Hole.

Logan shuddered at the memory of the time he had spent in the prison meant for the worst criminals. He had never truly recovered from the horrors he had witnessed in the Hole and worst, the ones he had committed himself. Jennie still had to wake him up from night terrors. She would hold him close and rock him while he slowed his pounding heart and banished the images. For one of his children to have seen it and drawn it… Why hadn't they told him? And why hadn't the prison guards found them and informed him if they had sneaked in?

Jennie saw the troubled look on his face but did not press him. She offered her strength and courage so that he could bear with the burden. Logan smiled at her in reassurance and gratitude.

The royal couple retired for the night. They climbed into bed and held each other close. In the arms of his wife and still feeling the warmth of his children's love, Logan could believe he was capable of bearing responsibility for entire Midycru. But he had a nagging feeling that this respite and happiness was just the calm before the storm, and the storm would be larger and more devastating than anything he had ever seen before.