Golden Age (The Shifting Tides, #1)(33)

There was silence in the banqueting hall as the story reached its conclusion.

‘King Palemon drove the remaining eldren into the Wilds, where they still live. Some also live in the Waste, closer to the Salesian continent. Palemon’s last years, however, were not content. Disaster struck when the ocean rose, burying the kingdom of Aleuthea beneath the waves. But I will save that story for another day.’

The magus stood and bowed. ‘By your leave, sire?’

‘Thank you, magus,’ King Markos said as he took a long draught of his wine. ‘You may go.’

The old man shuffled out of the room, leaving the group of seven behind. The men were in varying states of intoxication: Markos was bleary and Nikolas was looking as ready to retire as Dion himself felt, but Peithon was swaying slightly as he stared down into his cup.

‘All eldren should be eradicated like the vermin they are.’ Peithon swished the red wine, spilling some on his expensive clothes.

Thea frowned. ‘That wine you are so drunk on came from Phalesia, via the narrows that an eldran helped clear.’

Peithon’s broad face reddened as he turned on the queen. ‘What manner of woman are you, to preach peace with the race that destroyed your family?’

‘Peace,’ Markos said wearily, holding up a hand. ‘Peace between my beloved queen, and my loyal companion and first adviser.’ He turned to Dion’s mother, whose pretty face was curled into a scowl. ‘Wife, Peithon has fought by my side in many battles. And some of those battles were against groups of wildren. We lost good men. Peithon also lost his bride three weeks before his wedding day. Will you come to an accord with him?’

‘Yes, husband.’ Thea nodded stiffly.

Markos now addressed Peithon. ‘Peithon, Thea is my beloved wife, whom I love. She has helped us find a path to a peaceful solution for living so close to the eldren in the Wilds. They now aid us rather than hindering us when we destroy the wildren who were once their kin. She is also your queen, and deserving of your respect. Do you see the wisdom in peace?’

‘Yes, sire,’ Peithon said. When the king looked away, Dion saw Peithon throw his mother a look of loathing.

‘It is late,’ the king said. ‘We have had a long day. But,’ he looked at Dion, ‘I have said I would make a decision regarding my youngest son’s request, and here it is.’

Dion sat up, his tiredness vanishing.

‘Nikolas is the heir and commander of the army, as well as a skilled warrior, the best I have seen in my many years. He has a beautiful wife and a strong child, Lukas, my grandson.’

Markos nodded at the boy, who was now fast asleep.

‘But Dion has yet to take on the responsibilities of his brother. Danger to the kingdom is ever present. A warship from Ilea has arrived at the harbor of Phalesia, our closest neighbor, and it may be the first of many. Dion wishes to prove himself, and I believe him when he states the importance of filling in the gaps in our knowledge. Dion will go to Phalesia to learn more of this vessel and its commander.’

Dion nodded his acceptance. He saw his mother looking at him with concern.

‘But,’ Markos said in his gravelly voice, ‘if the warship has departed, Dion will return to Xanthos.’

Dion struggled to hide his disappointment.

‘He will return to Xanthos unless Aristocles, First Consul of Phalesia, gives his blessing for a voyage to Ilea to be made – on behalf of both our nations. If such a thing comes to pass, Dion will serve at the behest of the first consul, placing himself under his leadership. It will be Aristocles who will be the one to decide if Dion should go to Ilea to learn about the sun king’s realm across the Maltherean Sea.’





15


Aristocles walked barefoot along the pebbled shore. On his right the waves made a familiar hiss as the water crashed onto the small stones, while on the left the smooth wall of the sloped defensive embankment rose to a height of sixty feet. He wore a thick tunic of blue silk, holding it above his ankles to keep the hem from dragging.

He glanced at the group he had with him, also barefoot and finely dressed. Nilus and the other four consuls were arrayed around him, so that Aristocles led them all from the center. Round-faced Nilus’s expression of jocularity looked a little forced to Aristocles’ experienced eyes. The other four consuls smiled as they walked, much as they would as they made their way to any banquet or symposium where there would be flowing wine and loose conversation. But they also appeared to be keeping a close check on feelings of anxiety, with one consul fidgeting as he walked along the beach and another incessantly smoothing his hair.

The final member of the group was Aristocles’ eldest daughter. She walked close by his side, standing tall despite her trepidation.

‘You look beautiful,’ Aristocles said to Chloe.

Chloe looked down at herself self-consciously. She wore a new chiton made specifically for this occasion, a gauzy garment of white folds that contrasted with her long near-black hair. It was bunched at the waist, tied with a golden rope, and left her arms bare. The neckline was low enough for the copper amulet bearing the symbol of Aeris, a cross with a double loop, to be clearly visible, but not so revealing as to be scandalous.

It was at times like this that she reminded Aristocles more than ever of his late wife. Like Chloe, she had been a dark-haired beauty. Like Chloe, she was never afraid of holding her own in the company of men.