Chapter Two
Devona heard the sound of a young boy crying… but at first, she couldn't make out the words. She pushed up her blankets, and snuck over to the door of her bedroom. She wasn't supposed to be up at this time of night, and knew her mother would be most cross at her… but curiosity overcame the fear of punishment.
She creaked the door open ever so slowly so as not to alert the occupants outside, and peeked with one eye through the slit she had created. She couldn't see anyone from the hall, but she could tell that someone had lit candles, and now she could also hear what was being said more clearly.
"You poor thing… don't you worry. I have a messenger heading to the palace right now, and he will no doubt bring someone who will return you home safe and sound." Her mother's voice said. "But whatever were you doing wandering about outside at this time of night?"
From there, the little boy's voice spoke with a despairing wail "Rurik asked me if I wanted to see something amazing outside. I followed him… then he said I could find my own way home, and he left me!"
"Oh dear!" Her mother replied with a gasp. "I know older brothers can be cruel, but that was a dangerous prank to pull on anyone, much less a young prince! Have no worries little one, your father will not let these antics go unpunished!"
A prince? Here? Devona's gasp of surprise came out before she could restrain it, and the shadows playing along the hall turned abruptly.
"At ease, your little highness. I suspect that is just my daughter, who should not be up at this forsaken hour." Her mother said disapprovingly. "But… Devona, since you are so curious, why don't you come out here?"
Surprised at the permission, Devona didn't immediately respond to her mother's summons, and even once she did, she entered the main living quarters nervously, as if expecting to be punished once she was in the open.
Instead, her mother's hand fell on her back, and guided her in front of the boy she had heard from her room. He was slightly taller than her, with scruffy brown hair and bright green eyes that dominated otherwise fair facial features. He was dressed in slightly torn and obviously expensive purple silk nightclothes, as well as very intricately woven leather sandals. The boy paused to wipe the last remnants of tears from his eyes.
"Devona, this is Prince Coran." Her mother said warily. "Do be respectful."
The boy waved timidly, and said nervously, "Hello."
Devona didn't return the wave, but did say happily. "Hello!"
"Devona, you say, 'good evening, your highness', and curtsey like I taught you."
The girl frowned, strongly disliking the formal rules of etiquette that her mother forced upon her nearly every day, practicing them because it was the only way her mother allowed her to practice her fighting. Coran himself shrugged, as if to silently imply that he really didn't care either way, nonetheless with her mother present, she was compelled to do as told.
"Good evening, your highness." Devona amended with as slight of a curtsey as she could feasibly get away with.
"Very good, dear." Her mother answered approvingly. "Why don't you show the prince around while I straighten up a few things? It simply wouldn't do to have some of the King's men to see a homestead in disarray."
Devona quickly grabbed the boy by the hand, and said, "I can show you my favorite place! Come on!"
"Devona! Be respectful! Don't rip his highness's arm off in your impetuousness!"
"Sorry mother…" Devona replied. "Sorry, your highness."
Coran's response was another dismissive shrug, and that unspoken permission gave Devona the comfort to pick up her pace the moment they were out of her mother's eyesight.
Noting that the prince had been relatively quiet, Devona took it upon herself to get him to say something. "So… how old are you?"
"Ten." Was Coran's simple reply.
"I'm nine. Do you like living in the Palace?"
"Somewhat."
"I think I'd like it. Do you have a lot of rules as a prince… like having to bow or say 'your highness' a lot?"
"Yes."
"Oh… maybe I wouldn't like living there then. I hate all those rules, don't you?"
"Sure."
"Are you always so quiet?" Devona asked wryly.
"It's not my place to talk a lot." Coran replied. "One of those rules you'd no doubt hate."
Devona giggled, sensing that the prince was trying to be amusing, even if it might not have seemed that way. "You're funny. Anyway, we're here!"
"Where?" Coran answered, blinking at the thick oak double doors as Devona pushed them open with a slight grunt.
"My training room!" She chirped. "Well… it was my father's, and I really don't do much here… yet, anyway. My father fought in the Guild Wars, you know. He was a leader of Ascalon's Chosen."
"Did he? Where is he now?"
Devona frowned at the memory. "He died… defending Ascalon against an attack from a guild from Orr."
"Oh. It must be tough."
"Mom and I do alright. Your dad, the King, helped us through a lot. He paid for this house in full in thanks for my what my dad did. But sometimes… it hurts not to have him here."
"I… know how that feels. My mom died giving birth to me. There are times that I think Rurik hates me for it. Like now."
"I heard… that was mean of him."
With a desire to change the subject, Coran took the initiative, and asked, "So, what do you do in here?"
Devona clapped once, excited to talk about something that interested her greatly. "Well, my master teaches me how to use a sword and weapons and stuff."
"Like that one?" The prince asked in awe, pointing to her father's Rinblade handing on mounts along the north wall. The sword was nearly as big as she was, so it made sense that he'd be amazed.
"No…" Devona answered with a shake of her head. "I have wooden practice swords and hammers that I use. I'm not big enough to use a real sword, my master says. One day I will be though." Suddenly worried that she might be neglecting her guest, she asked, "Do you have a training room like this?"
Coran shook his head. "Rurik might, but he doesn't let me in his."
"They don't train you to fight?" Devona asked, surprised that a prince wouldn't be allowed to do such a thing.
"The Palace priest says that I have the favor of Dwayna." Coran answered.
"Ohhhh…" Devona said. That made sense. "So you're gonna be a monk?"
Another one of Coran's now frequent passive shrugs followed the question. "I guess."
"Do you know any prayers?" She asked. The monks that she occasionally saw in town intrigued her to some extent, and she was always curious how they did what they did, but her mother never let her ask such "inappropriate questions".
"A few." He answered, nervously rubbing his hands together, as if embarrassed by his abilities in some way.
"Can you show me?"
"I'm really not supposed too…" The prince answered. "The blessings I have are only supposed to be used in emergencies."
"Oh." Devona replied. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to try and get you in trouble."
"It's alright."
From that moment, they heard Devona's mother suddenly yelp from the main living space,. "Your… highness! I… I wasn't expecting you!"
"And why wouldn't I?" the full voice asked with a touch of good humor. "You have found my wayward son, after all."
"Your highness, I beg you to be easy on the boy. His brother tricked him."
"Oh, I'm sure. My other son has a slight penchant for this sort of behavior. You'd think that a seventeen year old young man would have better things to apply his energy to than terrorizing his younger brother. Fear not, my lady, I will make sure such a thing does not happen again."
"It was certainly no trouble, your highness. The prince was understandably frightened, but he has been a pleasure to watch over, I assure you."
"That is kind of you to say." The King said, then called out, "Coran! It's time to go!"
Coran started, even though he had to have expected something like this. "Coming, father." He responded, and with a polite nod to Devona turned about to return to the hall.
She followed the Prince back to the living area, and asked, "Do you think you can come again, Coran?"
Devona's mother recoiled in horror, partly due to the fact that Devona had referred to the young prince by name, and partly due to the idea of a member of the royal family intermingling in such a fashion with them.
"Devona!" She hissed in chiding, then said to the King, "I am deeply sorry, your highness… my daughter can be… inappropriate at times."
Far from insulted, the monarch instead seemed amused. "Aren't they all at that age?" He kneeled down to Devona, and said, "So, you are Julian's little girl, I assume?"
Devona nodded, finding herself somewhat awestruck by the invisible aura of confidence and charisma that seemed to surround the King of Ascalon, and unable to speak. Adelbern stood once again, and with a thoughtful smile, said, "I think I can certainly arrange for my son to visit another time… at a much more suitable time of day, of course. That is, if your mother has no complaints…"
"No! Never!" Devona's mother replied, flabbergasted. "The prince is always welcome!"
The King nodded, and declared. "It's settled then. Perhaps getting out of the palace some might do you some good, Coran. You withdraw yourself far too much."
The young prince allowed himself to give Devona a somewhat secretive smile before he took step behind his father, and left her homestead…
Devona jerked awake, clutching her blankets to her chest. That was a peculiar dream, to be sure… although she was curious why such memories had come to her in her slumbering hours.
Mhenlo had commented that sometimes the gods would speak to him through dreams, but they were usually vague and needed a good deal of interpretation. Could some higher power be trying to send her a message?
Looking out the window of her bedchambers, she noted that the lands were skill enveloped by the depth of night, and that for all rights, she should be sleeping still. Taking a couple deep breaths, she slowly let her body drift back into slumber, but not before making a mental note to entertain some preliminary queries come the next morning.