The War Gift - part 14

The portal had been set up to transport Cailan and Ristoph directly into the bedroom Cailan had always called his own in the Artenian palace. Several people were there as soon as they stepped through.  Cailan saw his father and mother, the royal healer, and several servants awaiting instructions.  The blankets on his bed had been turned down and Ristoph settled him on the mattress.

As emotional and uncertain as he was feeling, Cailan still appreciated the bed underneath him.  Just the brief jostling of being carried made him ache more than when he’d woken that morning.  He sighed gratefully as he sank into the pillows against his back, but had to hold back a yelp when his mother hugged him as soon as Ristoph stepped away.

“Oh Cailan!  I’ve been so worried.  I couldn’t stop thinking about what was being done to you, and then we were told you were attacked!”

“Mother,” Cailan tried to speak normally, but he couldn’t prevent a grimace as her hug pressed into one of his wounds and his voice squeaked.

“Your majesty / My dear,” the healer and King Saxon said at the same time.  The king gently pried his wife away from their son.

“His injuries, my dear,” the king reminded. 

Queen Adesina gasped.  “Oh Cailan, I’m so sorry!  Did I hurt you?”  She whirled on her husband.  “He’s so fragile, Saxon!  How could they let him get hurt?”

“Mother!” Cailan said just a tad forcefully, resenting the fragile comment and wanting to keep his parent from falling into panic.  He immediately made his tone softer and more respectful when she turned back to him.  “I’m fine, Mother.  I will heal fully, and neither Jarek nor anyone in the royal family was the cause of my injuries.  Let the blame rest on the one who actually gave them to me and who betrayed them as well.”

“He’s right, Addy,” King Saxon agreed.  “Both the Cylandrean healer and Leader Jarek kept us apprised of Cailan’s recovery; and Ristoph confirmed he was receiving excellent care.”

The queen seemed to Cailan to be even more emotional than he was feeling.  She whirled back to her husband.

“He shouldn’t have been there to begin with!  What kind of king demands a prince as a concubine when making an alliance and then can’t protect him?!”

Saxon sighed.  “Addy, we’ve discussed this.  King Alaric was bound to honor his ancestor’s word just as I was bound to honor ours.”

“Mother,” Cailan called to her again and held out a hand to her. 

She hurried to his side and reached for the hand, holding it to her cheek and kissing its palm.

“Please listen to what I have to say,” he pleaded as she gripped his hand.  “The Cylandrean royals would have prevented my injuries if they could.  I was never abused while I was there.  Leader Jarek showed me the utmost kindness and respect.”  He licked his lips before embarrassingly saying what he needed to.  “He promised not to force himself on me and that he’d wait for my readiness to…be known…that way.”  He blushed fiercely, but kept on.  “I hadn’t yet reached that point of readiness before the events that brought my injuries, and Jarek fully kept his promise.”

Adesina’s eyes widened.  “You were not used?”

In Cailan’s mind he thought Well, not to that extent and I enjoyed what I shared with Jarek, but his mother didn’t need details.

“No, Mother, I was not used.  They were very kind to me and…I will miss them,” he admitted softly.

“Really?” his mother asked with doubt in her tone.

“I will,” he repeated.  “And I’ve missed you and father and my brothers dreadfully too.”

“Oh honey.”  The queen pressed a kiss to his cheek instead of hugging him again.  “I’ve missed you too.”

“Addy,” the king spoke from behind her.  “We need to let the healer tend to him, and our other sons are anxiously waiting to hear how Cailan is faring.  Why don’t you go tell them that he has been transported safely?  I’ll bring word later of what the healer says of his recovery process.”

Surprising her son, Adesina tossed a glare at the king, but did leave the room to inform the rest of the family that Cailan appeared well.  Saxon ignored the glare and turned to Sorcerer Ristoph.  He took a long minute to say how grateful he was for the man’s service in so many ways in recent days.  Ristoph accepted the praise courteously and bowed to both Saxon and Cailan before leaving the room to settle himself back into his quarters.

Before he gave the healer leave to examine Cailan, Saxon finally took a moment to sit on the edge of the bed by his son.  He took Cailan’s face in his hands and looked with gentle scrutiny into his eyes.  Cailan wasn’t sure what his father saw, but eventually he dipped the young prince’s head down and placed a kiss on his hair.

“We will talk later, my son,” he promised before motioning the healer to start the examination.

*****

As soon as the healer proclaimed that Cailan’s injuries had been tended to well, and also insisted that bed rest and no walking, particularly on his right leg, were required for a time, his brothers were allowed to come and see him.  As was typical, they came singularly from oldest to youngest, and Cailan was grateful to see them all, although he was doted on in a way that made it seem like he was much more an invalid than he was. 

His greatest joy was to see his parents bring Doron to his bed.  “Cayin!” the child cried.

Cailan gathered the little boy into a hug, not caring about his injuries and refusing to let anyone make the child let him go.

“There’s my little guy,” he said with a hitch in his throat.  “I’ve missed you.  Have you been good?”

Doron had no idea what that question meant, but he had a small cotton-stuffed bear in his hands, and proceeded to show it enthusiastically to Cailan.  Cailan laughed and played with the child on the bed while their parents hovered around the room.  When Doron started to get sleepy, Cailan tucked him gently against his left side, away from most of his cuts, and wove a story for the little boy until Doron fell asleep.

“I’ll take him back to his room,” the queen offered, but Cailan didn’t want that at all.

“No, please, mother.  He’s fine where he is.”

The queen hesitated, but chose to grant Cailan’s wish.  “All right.  I’ll go see to bringing a meal up to you.”

She ignored his father completely when she left, and Cailan keenly sensed the dysfunction. 

“Father, why is she…?”

The king looked toward where his wife exited before bringing a chair to the side of the bed and sitting down.  “Your mother has not been able to forgive me for allowing you to be taken away.”

Cailan glanced down at his sleeping brother, and then back to his father.  “There was no other choice.  It was Doron or me, and I couldn’t let it be Doron.”

“I know.  Neither could I,” Saxon agreed.  “But I couldn’t let it be you either, yet I had no choice.  I’m surprised you haven’t chosen to hate me.”

Cailan felt the pressure of tears, but he held them at bay.  “I don’t hate you.  I felt…hurt and betrayed,” he admitted, “that you couldn’t find another way, but I was there when it happened, Father.  Your choices were limited.  It was either Doron, continued war and loss of lives…or me.”

The king nodded.  “You’ve been brave through it all, son.  Alaric told me the details of how you came to harm.  You are a hero to their people and I am proud of you.”

Cailan looked down, uncomfortable with the hero assessment, but beyond pleased to have his father express pride in him.  “I believe I did what you would have done, what I was trained as a soldier to do.  Besides, I…I was never treated as a concubine or a slave.  Jarek and the rest were very good to me, Father.”

“I can hope so, but you are home and safe now.”

“I was safe there,” Cailan said quickly.

His father raised one brow in a look of disbelief.  “My son, you were there barely two weeks, and in that time you were abducted, used as a pawn in treachery, and suffered wounds that very nearly killed you.  That is not safe.”

Cailan shook his head.  “None of those things were the fault of the royal house.  Those from Berring were the criminals.”

“If you had been allowed to stay here, you would have suffered none of what you did.”

“True, but you’ve told all your sons all our lives that we must be on guard because there is always a threat on a royal’s life, and the threat was greater on me as a silver-born.  I know that there were those who sought to take my life as a child, and one attempt very nearly succeeded.”

King Saxon looked taken aback.  “How do you know that?!”

Cailan chuckled softly, making sure not to disturb Doron’s sleep.  “Because I’m the only son who likes to read, remember?  The histories and journals of our house and country are available to me.  I read most of them when I was twelve, and there are three accounts of times when someone tried to take the life of the ‘royal silver-born’.  Once when I was an infant, once when I was three, and once when I was eight—which was the one that was nearly successful.”  Cailan gave his father a knowing look.  “That was the time my new tutor took me on a ‘nature walk’ and left me in the woods near a wolf pack.  I spent the night in a tree while they surrounded it down below.  I didn’t know at the time that it had been a planned attack, but the records reveal that the tutor had been ‘planning to cleanse the country of its most shameful inhabitant’,” he quoted.

King Saxon couldn’t hide a shudder that ran through him.  “Thank goodness for those fast feet of yours and your tree-climbing skills.  The hours spent looking for you were some of the worst of my life…until recently.”

Cailan’s heart ached at the wretchedness his father expressed.  “I’m sorry it has been so trying on you both.  But, I’m glad to know you weren’t…relieved…to have me gone.”

The king looked staggered.  “Relieved?!”

Cailan shrugged, feeling embarrassed to admit to the truth.  “Having a silver-born has been a blight on the family.  I’ve known it almost my whole life, and I have five older brothers who didn’t mind reminding me of it when we were children.  It’s why there were attempts on my life…because some Artenians haven’t grown past the shame of it.  I could understand if there was a sense of liberation in knowing I was alive, but not within the kingdom.”

There was the briefest flash of something in his father’s face that revealed that at least part of what Cailan had said was true, but the king still shook his head.  “Do you honestly question our love for you?”

“No, Father,” Cailan expressed truthfully.  “I know my family loves me.  I understand it more today than I think I have in the past.  But that doesn’t mean that I don’t know the difficulty having a silver-born has brought to you.”

The king lightly touched Cailan’s hair, and almost instinctively Cailan pulled slightly away.  Saxon let his hand drop. 

“Son, I’ve always tried to be honest with my family.  It is true that your vulnerabilities are greater than others.  You are fine-boned and less…developed in your stature…than other men.  You are gentler than the rest of us as well, and that does result in prejudice for some people.  It is simply the way it is for a silver-born, but it has never meant we do not love you or want you with us.”

“I know that is true of you, Father, and of the rest of my family, but the greater percentage of Artenians do not see me the same way.  I admit…it was a relief to me that my hair color was not a curse in Cylandrea.”

Saxon sighed and looked at both Cailan with his silver hair, and little Doron with his dark brown locks.  “You have not been given an easy life, my son.”

“Neither have you, Father.”

“Perhaps not,” he agreed, “but we will make the best of it.”

Cailan nodded.  “Will you and Mother make amends with each other?”

“Now that you are returned to us, she may feel more inclined to speak to me,” Saxon answered with a chuckle. 

“I hope so.”

The king leaned close and kissed Cailan’s brow.  “Don’t trouble yourself over it.  We will be fine.  I’ll go seek her out now.  Shall I return Doron to his room?”

“Please don’t,” Cailan requested.  “I want him with me.”

“I’m sure that would be his preference too,” Saxon concurred.  “You should follow his example and take a nap.  I know it has been a trying few weeks for you, and your body needs rest to heal from its injuries.”

“Yes, Father.”

Cailan did recline more fully into his pillows when his father left, but he couldn’t sleep.  His heart was too confused to allow it.  Part of him was full to bursting to have little Doron at his side and his family close by, while the rest of him felt even more empty than when he’d first left Arten.  That part he silently understood could only be filled by Jarek, but he feared the man would be lost to him forever.

*****

Neither the healer nor his family permitted Cailan to end his time of bed rest for a full week after he returned to Arten.  However, they did allow, even encouraged, him to read to keep himself occupied; but despite being able to delve into a favored activity, as well as getting frequent visits from Doron and the rest of his family, Cailan was going crazy with boredom and an unspoken yearning for Jarek that grew with each day.

When he was finally allowed to bear weight on his leg and move around cautiously, he reacquainted himself with the palace he’d grown up in, but found himself comparing it rather judgmentally with the Cylandrean palace.  He had been gone for less than a month—just a couple weeks actually—but everything about being back felt different to him.

Well, everything but one aspect: his silver-born status.

Ristoph had been honest in his claim that the palace servants spoke well of Cailan’s choice to be taken to Cylandrea on his brother’s behalf and in some ways he was treated better and with a greater respect than he’d previously experienced, but his good deed didn’t cancel out generations of cultural prejudice.  More than once he overheard mumblings and gossip about having the ‘silver’ back in the country; and he wasn’t just a silver anymore.  His hair color now meshed with the knowledge that for a brief time he’d been a concubine, and that was looked down on almost as strongly.  It was a struggle for him when he would enter a room and those present would immediately go silent, letting him know clearly that he’d been the topic of conversation.

Cailan thought on the differences between Arten and Cylandrea.  Jarek had insisted from the start that his status as a concubine was not something to be looked down on.  He’d always insisted Cailan was a special gift more than anything else, and that insistence had brought out a submissiveness in the young prince that had started to feel more and more right.  He’d actually felt respected and not belittled, even during the couple times Jarek had disciplined him.  He had felt valuable and wanted.

He couldn’t help questioning that a little now though.  Had Jarek’s kindness and the royal family’s acceptance of him been purely because of their country’s prophecies?  Part of him said yes, that had to be it.  But then his heart reminded him of the tears in Jarek’s eyes when he told Cailan that Ristoph was taking him back to Arten.  He didn’t want Cailan to go, even though it seemed the prophecies had been fulfilled and there wasn’t really a need for Cailan to be in the country anymore.

Cailan felt like he was floating through each day.  Emotions ran hot and cold for him, although he didn’t let them show.  He felt depressed more often than not, his only real joy happening in the times he got to spend with his father—who seemed desirous to be closer to him and make amends—and the time spent playing with little Doron. 

Ten days after his return, he earnestly supplicated his father and the healer to allow him some time outside.  Being constantly enclosed and treated as an invalid, despite now able to move about slowly and without help, was making him stir-crazy and very on edge.

The healer spoke his opinion of Cailan’s request to King Saxon instead of the young prince.  “It would not be my first recommendation,” he stated.  “His leg is not healed enough for standing and walking for extended periods, and the temperature has dropped in recent days.  He may not be able to manage the chill in the air.”

Cailan listened to the healer’s frustrating logic with growing anger, and finally couldn’t hold back his feelings on being treated as so much weaker than he was.  “I am not an infant who has not the sense to prepare himself for the elements, Healer!  I can dress warmly, and I have the good judgment to sit and rest should my injuries pain me or my strength temporarily leaves.  I do not actually need your permission to leave the palace,” he stated forcefully.

King Saxon’s hand landed heavily on Cailan’s shoulder while he lifted the other to prevent the healer from arguing.  “You do need my permission to leave though, but I am inclined to believe you are capable of handling some fresh air.  Dress warmly and I will have you accompany me in observing drill time with some of the soldiers.  Your brother, Eleron, has introduced some new routines to a select group.”

Cailan felt some of his tension leave him.  “Thank you, Father.”

The king gave him a look of warning.  “You will rest when needed or go inside if it becomes too cold for you.  Is that understood?”

“Yes sir,” Cailan agreed immediately, just grateful to feel a bit of freedom being given to him.

A half hour later he accompanied his father outside, through a small garden plot, and toward a nearby field set aside for drill practices. 

The temperature was cooler, but Cailan was dressed appropriately and actually enjoyed the freshness of the brisk air.  He did, however, hate that his stride was not smooth and fast like it used to be as his healing wounds slowed him down, but the king matched his pace and explained what Eleron had been teaching the soldiers.  Cailan began to forget about his limp in growing desire to witness what his father described.  Drill movement was something he had enjoyed doing as a soldier, and just as much enjoyed watching.  Seeing or being involved with a group of men moving in sync filled him with a sense of pride and accomplishment.

When they arrived at the field, Cailan noted that the soldiers gathered were already forming into their known positions.  His brother, Eleron, was the second born in the family and excelled in maneuvering and tactics.  He called out several orders to his men, but then had them hold position as he approached his father and Cailan, and bowed in respect to the king.

“Father, thank you for observing today,” he offered, and then passed a curious look to Cailan.  “Brother, you are welcome as well, but will it not be a strain to your body to have come such a distance?”

Cailan bristled, but the king spoke before he could make a biting remark.

“I’ve permitted him attendance, Eleron,” he warned.  “I trust Cailan to know his limits the same as I do the rest of my sons.”

“Yes, Father, of course,” Eleron quickly acquiesced.  “Please signal if either of you need anything.”

Eleron returned to his gathered men, and Cailan’s irritation faded as he watched the soldiers begin their routine.  It was almost inspiring to observe how the men moved in perfect sync as they simulated battle stances, performed elegant body placement, and marched in unison.  They sound of their feet stomping as one could have been music with its perfection.

“They are excellent, Father,” he commented.

Saxon nodded.  “They are much improved from a month ago.  Eleron is talented in his leading, and they have been responsive to him.”

As a third routine was performed, Cailan felt the ache of his back and leg warning him that he was reaching his physical limit.  He hated to admit the need for a rest, but he had promised his father to not overdo it, and it would not be a proud moment for him if he tumbled to the ground when his leg gave out.  A stone wall bordered the field they were in, so Cailan discreetly explained to his father that he was going to sit for a short time.  The flash of approval he received for his good judgment helped him be proud of his decision.  Still, he moved slowly to the wall, trying to walk with gracefulness and not too obvious a limp.  He stretched his leg out slowly as he sat, relieved to take the weight off of it.

From that distance he watched another drill, and then Eleron called for his men to take a brief break.  The soldiers dispersed, some to patches of grass to sit, many to a nearby well to slake their thirst, and several doing as Cailan did and sitting on or against the stone wall.

Most of these men were unfamiliar to Cailan.  They hadn’t been among the soldiers he had trained and fought with as a warrior for Arten, but he didn’t think it would speak well of him or his family if he ignored them.  He angled himself toward three men who were lounging a few feet away.

“Your drills were impressive,” he praised sincerely when he caught the attention of them.  “I know the difficulty of maintaining complete unity throughout a routine, and all of you stayed together.”

One of the men snorted.  “You know drills?”

One of the others laughed and elbowed the man who had spoken.  “He knows how to be drilled,” he boldly mocked. 

Cailan was stunned into speechlessness.  He’d heard the mumbled gossip within the palace, but no one had been so forthright as to demean him to his face.

The third man spoke up in hesitant scolding to his comrades.  “Men, Eleron and the king are right there,” he reminded in a fierce whisper.  “Besides, King Saxon did let him…” he nodded toward Cailan, “fight in the war.  And the silver did keep Prince Doron from getting sent away.”

“Where’d you hear that?  I’ve heard he did nothing but run around delivering messages during the war…never actually fought anyone in battle.  Besides, Prince Silver would only prove his own weakness if he went to daddy or big brother and tattled on us,” the first soldier derided.

“And we haven’t said anything that wasn’t true,” his companion stated.  “He’s a born silver who got sent to another kingdom to take it up his back door.”

“And apparently got sent back,” the friend laughed.  “Must have been too weak to handle it.  I can’t believe the king let him be returned.”

Cailan’s hands had fisted.  Red hot anger and ice cold shame seemed to flood through him simultaneously.  The men were right that it would give him no pride to report their words to his father or brother, but he was not so foolish as to believe he could hold his own against them to defend his own honor.  If he hadn’t been injured, he would have challenged them in a moment, but his injured leg and still-healing cuts on his torso would prevent him from lasting more than a few minutes in a duel, and the end result would simply be more public shame.

He sat stiffly, but with his head up as the men taunted for another minute before brushing him aside and finding another topic with which to entertain themselves.

His heart fluttered inside as he tried to build an emotional wall against the newest judgment he faced, and he wished fervently at that moment to be in Cylandrea where he’d actually seemed to belong and be wanted.  He was realizing that as difficult as it had been to be a silver-born in Arten, his status on his return to his home country was worse than he had grasped.  Most Artenians did not know the details of why he had gone to Cylandrea, nor the events that had happened there and how he came back.  Even if they did know, it was doubtful that they would believe the facts because they would be too blind by their own bigotry against a silver-born. 

The palace servants, who had the most knowledge of everything, would treat him well and he knew he had their respect, but there would still be gossip.  He would never marry, because no woman would accept a silver-born…especially one believed to be used.

His chest tightened as he realized he would probably never serve as a soldier again either, because troops such as these would refuse to fight alongside a man not only considered weak, but also believed to be compromised as a former concubine.  His future was bare and unknown in front of him, and the pain of that understanding made him briefly question the universe why it hadn’t let Charon kill him.  In the eyes of some he could have died a hero with respect, instead of living a life derided because few really wanted or believed he could prove himself as capable and worthy a man as the rest of them.

*****

“Is your leg paining you, son?” King Saxon asked as they made a slow trek to return to the palace.

Cailan’s leg was hurting him, but not as much as his soul ached.  “I’m fine, Father.  The exercise is good for me.”

The king seemed to study his profile.  “Something weighs on you,” he finally commented.

Cailan sighed and tried to stand a bit straighter.  “I’m just thinking.  Mother seems to have forgiven you,” he commented, changing the subject.

“For now she has,” Saxon agreed.  “It helps to have you back where she can keep an eye on you.  She worries over your healing though.”

“I am doing well.  Everyone says so; even the healer has said the progress has been good.”

“Yes, but a mother will worry, and if there’s nothing to worry about, she’ll make something up,” the king chuckled.

Cailan laughed briefly.  “That is true.” 

The moment of mirth fled as soon as it arrived, but Cailan did his best to conceal his melancholy.  No more than casual words were passed between father and son, but the king stayed by Cailan’s side until the reentered the young prince’s bedroom and Cailan stretched his aching body out on his bed. 

“Thank you for allowing me out, Father.”

“You’re welcome, but perhaps take a day or two before attempting the distance again?”

“Okay,” Cailan agreed, not really caring.  If his interaction with the soldiers today indicated what the other troops would be thinking of him, Cailan preferred to keep his distance at this time. 

He stared at the ceiling after his father left, his eyes burning with tears he refused to give into.  “I miss you, master,” he whispered after a time.

*****

The next day Cailan’s boredom had him seeking out his little brother earlier than normal, but he found Doron neither in the nursery nor the child’s play room.  Doron’s nanny was cleaning in the play room though, and informed the prince that his mother had taken the boy for a fitting of new clothes.

“That lad grows faster than a weed,” the lady said affectionately.  “No sooner does the queen fit him for new outfits than he grows out of them.”

That was true.  Doron had appeared to have grown quite a bit just in the weeks that Cailan had been gone.  He thanked the woman for her information and tried to decide what to do to occupy himself.  The only mildly appealing option was to go to the palace library.  It was a fair walk for him with his injuries, but not as far as he’d gone yesterday. 

When he did make it to the room however, it was with relief that he sat in one of the cushioned chairs.  One hand carefully rubbed his leg while the other held his side.  As he rested, he looked around the room, comparing it automatically to the library held within the Cylandrean palace and finding the Artenian library lacking.  He sighed, almost depressed to have come to what used to be one of his favorite rooms, but then heard a rustling and realized he wasn’t alone.

“Who’s there?” he called out when he didn’t see anyone.

The sound of footsteps walking the length on one of the far bookshelves could be heard before Sorcerer Ristoph appeared from behind the shelves.  “It is only I, your highness.  I needed to gather some research tomes on the use of miggin leaves.  I can leave you to your reading.”

“No, wait!” Cailan requested abruptly as a sudden idea occurred to him.

The sorcerer stopped obediently and gave his attention to the prince.  “Yes, your highness?”

“Sit, please, I’d like to ask you something.”

Ristoph moved to a seat across from Cailan and waited expectantly. 

“First, well, I wanted to thank you for what you did to save my life.  I was told how difficult it was to slow the blood I was losing until a healer arrived.  I wouldn’t be here if not for you.”

Ristoph looked mildly surprised to be thanked, but he nodded his acceptance with a small but warm smile.

“I was also wondering,” Cailan continued.  “Well, I don’t have a private communication portal available to me…I was wondering if you’d be able to set one up so I could…reach someone.”

The older sorcerer scrutinized him.  “Opening private communication portals within the palace require permission from either the king or queen, young sire.  I assumed you knew that.”

Cailan sighed.  “I did…I do.  I just didn’t yet want to involve my parents.”

There was a brief moment of silence before the sorcerer perceptively said, “You wish to speak with Leader Jarek.”

Cailan met his eyes nervously, but something in the sorcerer’s gaze revealed unspoken understanding. 

“I do,” he admitted quietly.  “I…miss him.”

Ristoph nodded.  “It has not been an easy return for you, has it?”

It was hard to admit the truth, but Cailan managed a single shake of his head.

The older man leaned back thoughtfully in his chair, his gaze kindly on Cailan.  “May I speak honestly, and perhaps boldly to you, your highness?”

That request was unexpected, but Cailan felt a yearning to know what the other man had to say.  “Please do,” he permitted.

Ristoph nodded and spoke shrewdly.  “I have learned in my life that there is not one human being in this world who does not live with prejudice either inside them or affecting them from the outside.  It is simply the way of human nature. 

“As a silver-born, you have faced more than your share of hatred and fear directed at you.  On the other hand, as a man who received severe injury from another, you may discover that you’ll carry a lifelong bias against anyone from the kingdom of Berring and not just the individual who hurt you.  It is natural because we learn through what we experience in our lives or by those we trust who teach us.  What I think is the hardest thing to face is that sometimes what we learn is not always and absolute truth.”

He paused and Cailan looked at him curiously.  “What do you mean?”

“Well, use yourself as an example.  Maybe someday you’ll tell young Prince Doron what you suffered at the hands of a man from the Berring kingdom.  He’ll likely pick up strongly, even if you don’t expressly say it, that you carry a dislike, even a hatred for men from Berring.  Then, because he trusts you, he will subconsciously believe that men from Berring are evil, so it’s likely that if he ever meets a man from that kingdom, he will immediately dislike him because he judges the entire kingdom based on the actions of a few.  The truth is, being from Berring does not automatically make a person evil, but Doron will have trouble believing that.  Do you understand?”

Cailan nodded slowly.  “Yes, I can see how we can inadvertently teach such a wrong way of thinking.  I don’t want to do that to Doron.”

Ristoph’s nod at his statement seemed to hold approval.  “I believe you, but I’d like to tell you that you have taught me a truth in recent weeks that, admittedly, I’m still adjusting to.”

Cailan was surprised.  “What have I taught you?  I have not even seen you since we returned to Arten.”

“True, but I learned something valuable in our shared time in Cylandrea.”  The man met Cailan’s eyes.  “I have been taught my entire life in Arten that a silver-born is not an equal man to the rest of us.  It is the belief that such a hair color is a sign of weakness, vulnerability, and lack of courage, someone not capable of being a true warrior or leader.  But, your highness, you have taught me that belief is not true.”

“What?!” Cailan expressed in disbelief.

“It’s not true,” Ristoph repeated.  “I was there, Prince Cailan.  You and the royal brothers ran past me as you rushed to the queen’s bedchambers.  I followed as fast as I could because I sensed my assistance could be needed.  I know you are the one who saved the queen’s life, who fought the traitor Charon, and who had the strength not to succumb to death through your injuries.  And while you were fighting for your life, I learned the whole story of how you escaped and saved yourself from Prince Killian and swam—according to Captain Kenton—nearly a mile to reach the safety of his ship.  A weak man is not capable of those things, nor did a vulnerable man need to be saved from the clutches of his captor.  No, young sire, I have learned that a silver-born is not weak as I have always been taught.  You have more strength and courage than I’ve seen in many soldiers.”

Cailan’s eyes burned with the first sense of ever feeling accepted for himself in his home country.  “Thank you, Ristoph.  I can’t…express how deeply your words touch me.”

“I mean them wholeheartedly, your highness, but if I may continue in my boldness, I’d like to say something else that might be difficult to hear.”

Cailan took a breath, composing himself, and nodded.  “Go ahead.”

“There has been talk of you since your return,” the man stated.

Cailan shrank a little.  “I know, Ristoph.  I have heard the words.  Few are actually happy to have me back in the kingdom.  Perhaps your views have changed, but most of the country’s have not.”

“No, sire, that is not the talk I mean, although what you say is true.  The talk I am referring to is the observation of both your family and the palace servants that you do not seem happy to be back in your home.”

Cailan’s chest grew tight, but he didn’t deny the observation entirely.  “I am glad to be with my family again, sorcerer.  It’s not that.  I just…I miss….”  He didn’t know the words to say, but Ristoph nodded knowingly.

“You fell in love with Leader Jarek in your time with him, highness.  Is that not the truth?”

Cailan couldn’t deny it, but it was hard to say for some reason.  After a long minute he finally managed in a whisper.  “It is the truth.” 

“I know.  I saw it while I was there, and also that he loved you in return.  Young prince, have you not considered seeking an audience with your parents and telling them where your heart lies?”

Cailan looked at him aghast.  “How could I do that?  They would feel it a betrayal, and they were already hurt when I had to go there the first time.  I don’t want to bring them that pain again.  Besides,” he swallowed nervously.  “I don’t know if they could accept my love for….”

“Another man?” Ristoph questioned knowingly.  At Cailan’s nod, the man offered encouragement.  “It may not be a common relationship, nor an easy one to understand for others, but that doesn’t mean the king and queen are against it.  They accepted it in me.”

Cailan gasped, his mind swimming in shock.  “You love…a man?”

“Yes, and he loves me.  When I was first considered as Arten’s royal sorcerer, I requested a private meeting with your father because I felt he needed to understand my situation from the start.”

“What did he say?” Cailan had to know.

“He was taken aback at first, but I learned it was mostly because such a relationship is not overly common in our land, and also because I expressed it so openly.  But he then assured me that he was not bothered that I had a bond with another man.  So long as my lover was proven to not be a threat in any way, King Saxon gave permission for him to share my cottage on the palace grounds.”

“I never knew,” Cailan muttered.

Ristoph grinned in amusement.  “Do not sound put out, highness.  Few do know the depth of my relationship with my lover.  We prefer to be private, but neither your father nor your mother has ever condemned me for it.  Now, be warned, it may be a harder thing for them to accept for their son, but I truly believe that they would not condemn you either.”

A seed of hope was planted in Cailan’s heart.  “Thank you, Ristoph.  You’ve given me a lot to consider.”

“Let me leave you with one more thought then.  Your father asked for a full and detailed report of what I witnessed and experienced in Cylandrea, particularly on how you were treated.  Initially I had gone into the situation with prejudice, and I picked out any negatives I could find, but the majority of what I saw was that you were treated respectfully and kindly by all, but also that Leader Jarek in particular doted on you, and that I heard from my own ears that he loved you.”

“So my father knows?” he asked in awe.

“Your father knows that Leader Jarek loves you, but you’ll have to be the one to tell the king that you love Leader Jarek as well.”

Cailan nodded.  “Thank you again.”

“This conversation with you has felt like the most honorable service I’ve done in a long time, your highness.  I do hope you’ll find contentment and happiness.”

        In a rare gesture from a royal, Cailan nodded and offered his hand to the servant.  Ristoph appeared momentarily startled, but then reached out and shook the prince’s hand, signifying the understanding between them.