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He tried to overcome his surly mood as they spurred their horses down the slight incline, toward the stone towers of Kynton. Much as he often avoided the company of others lately, he was looking forward to seeing his grandparents. And he was both flattered and intrigued by the invitation his grandmother had apparently asked King Eamon to extend. The elderly princess had been born a princess of Kyona, before her marriage to a Valorian prince. She was therefore sister to the current Kyonan king. Even at their advanced age, she and Heath’s grandfather continued their annual tradition of passing the summer as guests of King Eamon in Kynton. Heath’s father had joined them when he was younger, and had visited once or twice as an adult. But neither Heath nor Percival had ever traveled to Kyona before.

If he’d been invited the year before, when he wasn’t such a bear, he probably would have enjoyed the visit immensely.

The walls of the city loomed up before them, and Heath looked around with interest. They passed unchecked through the open gates, a nod between the guards on duty and those riding with the delegation confirming that they were expected. The road was crowded with various Kyonans going about their business, but the throngs parted for the mounted group, decked out in Valorian livery.

The road continued on the other side of the walls, clearly the city’s main thoroughfare. Heath’s general impression of Kynton was one of bright colors. Late summer flowers bloomed from window boxes, and cheerful fabrics swirled as locals hastened for a look at the visiting group. Even the expressions were bright, the general demeanor of the populace suggesting contentedness. Clearly Kyona’s capital was thriving.

Thriving and curious.

Heath felt self-conscious under the eager gaze of those gathering to watch the delegation ride past. A group of people near his own age pushed their way to the front, not far ahead on the road. They jostled the rest of the crowd, their eyes scanning the group with purpose, and a trickle of uneasiness crept through Heath.

“Which one is the power-wielder?” a young woman called out audibly.

Heath drew in a breath. He hadn’t expected to attract so much attention given that Kyona had power-wielders of its own, but perhaps that had been foolish. Across both kingdoms, and all three generations of power-wielders, there were still fewer than thirty of them.

He found his shoulders hunching with tension under the scrutiny, not sure what to expect. The general attitude toward magic in Valoria was fraught at best. He didn’t know how suspicious Kyonans were regarding their own power-wielders, let alone foreign ones.

On the thought, he cast a look of concern toward his brother—Percival had never taken criticism of their innate magical power well.

Percival’s attention had also been drawn to the group. He kept his gaze fixed on them, one eyebrow raised, as he spoke in good-humored mockery.

“Your fame has gone before you, Heath. Better wave to your admirers.”

To Heath’s embarrassment, Percival did so himself, sending a lazy wave to the group of young onlookers as the delegation drew level with them. Their focus centered on him immediately, and an excited murmuring spread through the crowd.

Heath shot his brother a long-suffering look. At least it seemed that Percival had been right to call them admirers. He could see no trace of the fear or suspicion he had been dreading. On the contrary, the girl who had called out gave a coquettish giggle as Percival grinned at her, and several people threw flowers onto the road. The news of their arrival clearly raced through the city as only gossip could, because the rest of their route was quickly lined with onlookers.

“Power-wielders!”

“There are two of them!”

“Welcome to Kynton!”

The cries leaped out at them from the crowd as they passed, the people’s excitement palpable.

Heath blinked. He looked at Percival, and their eyes locked. Clearly his brother was just as taken aback by their reception as he was.

The main street curved to the east, and it wasn’t long before the castle came into view. It was not dissimilar to the castle in Bryford, built for beauty as well as practicality. Bryford’s castle had pennants of many colors flapping above it, but in Kynton, the pennants were all in the royal Kyonan blue, stitched around in gold. It was an imposing sight, if Heath was honest.

And there was no stone basin suspended above the castle, filled with dragon fire. In spite of the greater history between dragons and Kyona’s royal family, they had no Flame of Friendship ceremony. The dragon colony located within Kyona’s mountains remained more reclusive than that on Valoria’s Wyvern Islands.

When they reached the castle itself, grooms hurried forward to relieve them all of their horses. Heath descended from his mount gratefully. His injured leg was aching painfully after so long in the saddle, and he was a little embarrassed to find himself limping as he ascended the steps into the building.

The broad entranceway was light and open, full of the bustle of servants and courtiers alike. Tapestries lined the walls, an enormous one of a descending dragon dominating the space. News of their arrival had obviously been sent ahead from the city gate, because a pleasant call of greeting drew Heath’s attention to the landing above them. He directed his eyes to the large stone staircase that rose from the middle of the entranceway. The landing above it branched off into two short staircases on either side, leading up to the castle’s second level. On that landing stood the familiar figures of Prince Kincaid and Princess Jocelyn, Heath’s grandparents.

He and Percival both hurried forward, smiling in greeting. Their grandmother offered her hand to each of them in turn, and their grandfather smiled easily from behind her.

“Welcome to Kyona,” the elderly princess said brightly.

“You’re a very welcome sight,” agreed their grandfather. There was a slightly amused lilt to his voice as his eyes passed from Heath to Percival. “Both of you.”

Percival gave a rueful sigh. “If you’re going to tell me I wasn’t included in the invitation, Grandfather, there’s no need. Heath hasn’t stopped reminding me of it since we left Bryford. But my parents were concerned about Heath traveling so far while still recovering from his injuries.”

“Of course we weren’t going to say anything of the kind,” said their grandmother calmly. “We’re delighted to see you, Percival.”

Heath frowned slightly. Her tone was warm enough, and her features were clear. So what was giving him that sense of lingering concern as her eyes rested on Percival? Before he could answer this question to his own satisfaction, she turned her gaze back to him.

“And I’m not surprised your parents are concerned, Heath.” Her voice was serious now. “We were most alarmed ourselves when we heard of your injuries. I hope you haven’t done yourself any harm by traveling so soon. Perhaps it was foolish of me to ask Eamon to invite you.”


Tags: Deborah Grace White The Vazula Chronicles Fantasy