Part 19 ready!

Part 19 is posted :)  I have loved the comments that have been left on previous chapters.  Thank you so much.  Feedback is like food to a writer.  It gives energy and a desire to write more.  Thanks!
JL-

The War Gift - part 19

Jarek had needed to return to Cylandrea for one full day after he talked to King Alaric about extending his trip to Arten.  That had been a disappointment to Cailan.

“I’ll miss you too, but it’s only one day, little love,” Jarek had comforted.  “I need to delegate some responsibilities for the extra time I’ll be gone, fully apprise my brother and my father of all that is about to take place, and make some preparations for when we return.”

Said like that, Cailan wondered if one day would be enough time for Jarek to fulfill his duties.  He didn’t ask though, fearing that it would end up with a longer separation from his intended.  They said their good-byes and see-you-soons in private, and then Jarek left with one last kiss.

Cailan thought it would be hard to fill his time without Jarek around, but he was mistaken.  With only a few days to prepare the small but important ceremony, his mother claimed his attention and wouldn’t let go.  The day Jarek was absent was spent being fitted for a formal outfit for the ceremony, selecting in which of the palace’s three ballrooms to hold the event, attending to Doron while his mother flurried about ordering servants to specific jobs, and approving an official announcement that would be sent out to the kingdom, proclaiming his union.

When he asked why the announcement was necessary since the small wedding wasn’t going to be open to the people, his mother had rattled off an explanation about propriety and tradition.  Cailan just let her do as she wished.

At one point she did briefly stop her flurrying to ask him if there was anyone else besides family he would like to have at the ceremony.  At first he said no, but just as the queen was about to hurry away he changed his mind and called her back.

“I would like to invite Sorcerer Ristoph and his partner,” he requested of her.  “And I’m sure Jarek will be inviting his family, but I’d like to extend a personal invitation to them as well.”

Queen Adesina seemed pleased at his choices.  “You have lovely handwriting, Cailan.  Why don’t you compose those invitations?  I’ll supply you with the appropriate paper and make sure they reach their destinations.”

Cailan agreed and in a short while was seated at the desk in his quarters, the elegant and thick invitation paper his mother had provided was carefully contained in a drawer while he thought out and practiced his wording for the summons on cheap paper until he deemed it just right.

He then retrieved a blank correspondence sheet with the king’s crest at the top and carefully wrote out two invitations, one to the royal sorcerer who had become a friend, and the other addressed to the royal house of Cylandrea.

He critiqued them fully when he was done, and delicately made minor marks with his pen to make the invitations look as perfect as possible.  Finally, there was nothing else he could do to enhance them, so he folded them carefully, put them in their envelopes, and sealed them shut with the white wax reserved for the Artenian princes to use.  His father’s red wax would have looked more elegant, but that color seal was exclusively for the king’s use.

When he delivered the missives to his mother, she urged him to come with her to the ballroom now being decorated for the ceremony.  She had clearly forgotten about his injured leg until his attempt to keep up with her hurried gait caused him to begin limping.

“Oh Cailan!  I’m sorry!” she apologized.  “Do you need to sit?”

“No, Mother.  Could we just walk a bit slower?”

She grimaced, but the look was clearly directed at herself.  “Of course.  I’ve been rushing about all day that I’m forgetting to slow down for anything.”

This time Cailan apologized.  “I’m sorry.  You really don’t need to overextend yourself.  I’m sorry to make you rush so.”

The queen delicately waved her hand.  “There is no need to apologize.  Duties are assigned and we have good serving staff.  You are going to have a proper ceremony, even if it is small.”

Cailan reached for his mother’s hand and kissed the back of it.  “Thank you.”

They reached the ballroom and Cailan was sincerely struck by how lovely it was looking even just half done.  Iron lanterns with red candles waiting to be lit were strung on crimson ropes from the ceiling.  A black wedding arch had been erected on one end of the room, and servants were covering it in red, yellow and white roses.  Garlands of greenery were being placed aesthetically throughout the space, and every window in the room gleamed from being freshly washed.

“Mother, it looks beautiful!” he exclaimed.

“It’s coming along,” she agreed, looking happy with the progress.  “It’s harvest season, so I chose colors to match.  The chairs will be set up here, and the tables will be on the far end over there.” She pointed to each area she described.  “This area will be available for dancing if anyone chooses, but with such a small affair I didn’t think a large space would be needed.  There will be music though.  The musicians will set themselves up over here by this wall and away from the door the food servers will be entering from.”

“It’s amazing.  You seem to have thought of everything,” Cailan expressed.

“I hope so.  Every time I finalize one detail it seems that two more come to mind that need to be addressed.”

“Mother, it will be perfect.  Even if one tiny detail is left out, as long as I have you and Father’s blessing while Jarek and I are united, I’ll be absolutely happy.”

The queen patted his cheek.  “I know, but I’m still going to make sure it’s perfect.”

Cailan chuckled.  “What can I help with?”

“Nothing right at this moment.  This evening I’ll have a dinner menu for you to approve.  Why don’t you go rest that leg of yours and I’ll see to it that your invitations reach their destinations.”

Cailan went, knowing he’d be more of a hindrance than a help if he tried to insist on aiding her.

When he settled in to sleep that evening—after a rather trying time of approving or rejecting every item on the elaborate menu his mother and the palace chef had created—he still had a smile on his face as he thought about the way things were coming together.

*****

Cailan was met with several pleasant surprises when he woke the next morning.  During the healer’s morning visit to check his injuries, he deemed Cailan’s leg now healed enough to have the stitches holding the cut together dissolved.

“It will still need daily bandaging for quite a while for protection and to allow the skin to continue healing, and I’d highly suggest very minimal use of it today so the injured area can adjust to the stitches being gone.”

“I’ll be very careful,” Cailan promised.  “Can you remove them now?”

“I need to retrieve the solvent and a different cream than what we’ve been using.  Give me half an hour, and I will return and take care of things.”

Impatient but pleased, Cailan willingly dismissed him, but almost as soon as the man left, a knock on Cailan’s door preceded the entrance of his betrothed.

“Jarek!  You’re back!” he stated with pleasure.

The man immediately crossed the room to him and sat at the edge of the bed to pull him into a hug.  “I’m back, petling, and I ran into the healer just now.  He says you’re getting the stitches dissolved.”

“I am,” Cailan confirmed.  “He’ll be back soon with what he needs.  It’s happening just in time for our bonding.”

“It’s perfect timing,” Jarek agreed.  “When the healer is done with you, I have a surprise for you.”

“What is it?!”

Jarek laughed.  “It ruins the surprise when you tell the receiver what it is.  You’re going to have to wait to find out, petling.”

Cailan exaggerated a pout, but then began asking about Jarek’s brief time back in Cylandrea.  They filled the time with conversation until the healer returned. 

When the medic did come back, he suggested Jarek might like to wait outside until he was done, but both Jarek and Cailan refused that suggestion.  Jarek because he wanted to watch and be fully aware of what was going on with Cailan’s injury; and Cailan because he was remembering that the process of dissolving the stitches from his other wounds had been rather painful, and he hoped that Jarek’s presence would he a helpful distraction. 

He didn’t say anything to Jarek about the expected pain, but as the healer soaked a towel in a clear solution and held it against the wound, he couldn’t help sucking in a breath.

Jarek immediately reached for his hand.  “Alright?”

“It’s just…not…pleasant,” Cailan forced out between gritted teeth.

The healer confirmed Cailan’s words.  “The solution to dissolve the stitching is not harmful to the skin, but the sensitive area of a wound is susceptible to a burning sensation when it’s applied.”

The man removed the cloth after a minute, wiped the area with a clean rag to determine how much of the stitching had been dissolved, and then replaced the solution soaked towel.

Cailan stiffened again and squeezed Jarek’s hand. 

“Are you sure it’s not harmful?” Jarek questioned with obvious concern.

“Positive,” the healer replied somewhat haughtily.  “Prince Cailan may be a bit more sensitive than others.”

Cailan glared at the man for the suggestion, and Jarek didn’t look any more pleased.  “Perhaps, sir, you would like me to give you a similar cut to what Prince Cailan received, and we’ll judge your sensitivity to the healing process for the next month,” Jarek suggested coldly.

The healer’s head jerked up in alarm.  “I…I just meant,” he fumbled.

“I know what you meant,” Jarek stated.  “If you don’t know, I’d like to inform you that Prince Cailan received his wound saving the life of my country’s queen.  It came close to taking his life, and as you know when the prince was first returned to Arten, it was a cut deep enough to risk him losing his leg as well.  It has been a prolonged and painful healing time, and belittling his strength when he managed to fight off death is not appreciated.”

The healer looked duly chastised.  “My apologies.”  At Jarek’s steady gaze, the healer focused his attention on Cailan.  “I am sorry, Prince Cailan.  I didn’t mean to imply a lack of strength.”

That actually wasn’t the truth, but Cailan appreciated the man’s sincerity in the apology.

“Thank you,” he replied as the healer removed the towel and checked the stitching again. 

It took three times applying the solution to completely dissolve the stitching, but when it was done the skin on Cailan’s leg looked much better.  It was fully knit back together and didn’t look liable to tear.  It was, however, scarred and tender looking.  The healer lifted a jar of cream and the bandages he had been using and looked questioningly to Cailan.

“I can use the cream and wrap the leg now, your highness, or I can wait if you’d like to bathe first.  The leg can be fully immersed now.”

Cailan hadn’t been able to soak in a bathing tub in weeks, and the option was incredibly appealing.  Keeping his voice from showing too much enthusiasm, he chose the bath.  “I’ll clean up first.”

“Very good, your highness.  Send a page boy for me when you’re ready and I’ll dress the leg.”

“I think I can see to that,” Jarek put in.  “I’ve been watching you bandage Prince Cailan’s leg all week, so I think we can manage.”

“As you wish, Sir Jarek.” The healer handed Jarek the jar of cream.  “This will need rubbed in first before the bandage is replaced.  Use as much as you like.  It will help the skin continue to heal and firm up.”

Jarek spoke his understanding and when the healer left the room, he dropped a kiss onto Cailan’s lips.  “Where is your bathing room, petling?”

“Through there,” Cailan pointed to a door on the far side of his bedroom.  “But, um, it’s not like your bathing room.”

“Most aren’t,” Jarek said easily.  “Don’t let that bother you, little love.  Let me just ask, is the water already prepared or does it need readying?”

“It needs readying,” Cailan informed. 

“Come along then.”  Jarek spoke and picked Cailan up at the same time.

“Jarek!  I can walk.  You’ve seen me do it all week!”

“Yes, but I also know that you were told to let your leg rest as much as possible today now that the stitches are out.”

“Walking the short distance to my bathing room is hardly overexerting it,” Cailan argued even as Jarek carried him toward the connected room.

“Perhaps not, but I plan to dance with you at our bonding ceremony, so I’m going to make sure no more damage is done to your leg in the meantime.”

Cailan blushed.  “You want to dance with me?”

Jarek brushed a kiss across Cailan’s cheek.  “I want to do everything with you.”

Once in the bathing room, Jarek helped him take off his nightclothes, and then followed Cailan’s instructions for filling the large porcelain tub that filled the entire length of one wall. 

“The water comes through pipes that are behind the walls,” the prince explained, and pointed to two copper spouts jutting out from the wall over the center of the tub.  “Hot water comes from the one on the left and cold water on the right.  See that red cord?”  He pointed at the dangling cord.  “Pull that one to release the hot water, and then pull that blue one there for the cold.”

In a short while Jarek had the tub filled, and then let his gaze linger on Cailan’s face as he undressed himself.  Cailan’s mouth went dry as the beautiful markings on Jarek’s body were revealed.  It had been weeks since he’d fully seen his intended’s body and the markings and Jarek’s build were even more stunning that he remembered.

“Are you getting in with me?” he asked huskily.

Jarek’s grin was pleasantly wicked.  “Oh yes, petling.  I have to make sure you get fully clean.”

There was absolutely no desire to argue with that pronouncement.  The two of them settled into the water.  Jarek sat against the end of the tub and pulled Cailan between his legs.  The young prince fully relaxed against the broad body and sighed with pleasure as the heat of the water soaked into him.

“This feels wonderful,” he murmured.

Jarek dipped his head and began kissing and placing light nips on Cailan’s neck and shoulders.  “You feel wonderful, petling.  My arms feel empty when you’re not in them.”  His hands caressed and roamed over Cailan’s body, touching his chest, stomach and legs.

Cailan’s privates responded enthusiastically to the touches, especially as Jarek’s hands seemed to slip closer and closer to Cailan’s growing erection.  He gasped when a single finger stroked along his length.

“Jar – ek,” he groaned.

A deep chuckle sounded behind him and a moment later a strong hand intimately gripped him and began slow and firm strokes.  He couldn’t prevent a whimper that escaped him and the automatic movement into the touch.

“So beautiful” Jarek crooned before dropping his mouth to Cailan’s shoulder and sucking hard on a single spot.  The sensation tickled and sent a fresh flow of blood to his groin.

It didn’t take long for Cailan to reach the edge and he squirmed.  “Jarek!  Stop!  I’m going to….”

“Do it, love.  You’re beautiful like this.”

Cailan groaned as he fell over the edge into pleasure and trembled as Jarek lightly caressed him through the sensation and then gently washed him.

After several minutes of recovery time, Cailan became aware of Jarek’s arousal pressing against his back.  He turned his head and kissed Jarek’s jaw.  “Your turn.”

Jarek groaned but shook his head.  “We don’t have time, love.  If we don’t emerge soon, someone may come searching for us, and I don’t care to have witnesses to our private times.”

“Are you sure?” Cailan asked in disappointment.  It didn’t seem fair to leave Jarek wanting.

“Sure? Yes.  Do I want to hurry you out of this water? No.  But I’m afraid it’s necessary.”

Reluctantly, they both left the tub, dried, and dressed; although Cailan started to argue when Jarek told him to get back in bed.

“What?  Why?”

“First, because I need to apply the bandages, and second, because I want you off your leg for the day, just like the healer said.”

“But…”

He didn’t finish what he was going to say because Jarek turned him and ushered him the few steps to the bed with a swat just hard enough to sting.  He yelped and moved quickly onto the mattress.

“Are you seriously going to make me stay in bed all day?”

“Bed, couch, chair,” Jarek told him as he retrieved the bandages and cream and began rubbing the latter gently into Cailan’s leg.  “I’ll allow you minimal walking, but only when I’m with you.”

“My mother is going to want me to help with the preparations, Jarek.”

“We’ll make whatever’s necessary for you to be involved with doable, but I’m still keeping you off your feet as much as possible.”

“What am I supposed to say to them when they ask why I’m in bed?” Cailan questioned, feelings of both panic and ire building in him.  “I’ll look weak if I appear bedridden when I’ve been walking around, and if I tell them you won’t let me get up….” He swallowed hard, alarmed at the thought of looking like a child ordered about by a parent to his family.

“We’ll tell them exactly what the healer said, that you need to limit your leg’s use today because the stitches were dissolved,” Jarek told him, and then caressed his cheek.  “I won’t shame you, petling.  I want to help your family learn to better appreciate everyone—including silver-borns—but wouldn’t it be considered smart and the use of common sense on your part to do as the healer said?”

Cailan settled somewhat.  “I guess.  I’m just afraid they’ll….”

“Think you’re not as strong as you are?” Jarek asked, although he knew the answer.  “Petling, I’m afraid that’s a mindset they’ve appeared to have for generations.  It takes time to alter that way of thinking.  You just be smart and wise, and use the natural strength you’ve shown me.  Eventually, I think they’ll start to recognize how valuable you are.”  He sat down on the edge of the bed, facing Cailan.  “At least you know they love you, and they are trying to do right by you now.”

Relaxing a little more against a pillow, Cailan gave a slow nod.  “Yeah.  They’re trying.”

“They are.  Now,” Jarek said, clearly about to change the subject while he finished wrapping the clean bandages around Cailan’s leg.  “Are you ready for that surprise I mentioned?”

The younger prince grinned.  “Can you bring it to me, since apparently I’m to stay off my leg today.”

Jarek smiled in return.  “Actually yes, I can bring them to you?”

That brought Cailan up short.  “Them?”

Jarek nodded.  “My family received the invitation you sent, and most of them send their apologies for not being able to attend.  However, two did come to Arten with me and will remain through our coming together.”

“Who?” Cailan asked, excited about seeing those who came with Jarek.

“My parents.”

Cailan lost his smile and some color drained from his face.  “Your parents?” he said with obvious nerves.

“Don’t look like that, petling,” Jarek soothed.  “They’ve been anxious to meet you.”

“They have?” Cailan asked doubtfully. 

“Of course.  You’re the one who saved their daughter-in-law, who fulfilled the prophecies, who I love,” Jarek said tenderly.

“But what if they don’t approve of me once they meet me?  They don’t know me at all.” Cailan asked in complete seriousness.  “What if they think we’re getting married too fast?  Or I’m too young for you?  Or are upset that I’m a foreigner marrying into their family?  Or….”

Jarek put a hand over Cailan’s mouth.  “Petling, I’ve been in contact with my parents and have been telling them about you since the day you first stepped foot on Cylandrea.”

“You have?” Cailan asked, his voice muffled by Jarek’s hand.

Jarek chuckled and pulled his hand away.  “I have.  Actually, both Alaric and I have been keeping them informed of the events since your arrival.  Like every other Cylandrean, they have spent their whole lives knowing of and waiting for the fulfillment of the silver prophecies.  When you proved to be the one we’ve been waiting for, and when I told them of my feelings for you, they couldn’t have been more pleased.”

Cailan still wasn’t completely convinced.  “Maybe the prophecies are on my side, but what if they still dislike…me?”

“Not possible,” Jarek replied without doubt.  He leaned in and kissed Cailan; not a passionate kiss, but one that was deep, drawn out, and full of understanding and reassurance.  “Let me introduce you to them, petling,” he requested when he broke their liplock.

The kiss had done more than the words to provide comfort.  “Ok,” Cailan agreed quietly.

Jarek pecked his lips one more time and then stood.  “I’ll be right back.”

He was true to his words, which was good for Cailan because left alone for more than ten minutes would have pushed him over the edge into barely controlled anxiety.  Thankfully, the door to his room opened and the three Cylandreans entered before he could build to that point.

The family resemblance was shockingly clear.  As all Cylandreans, Jarek’s parents clearly had once shared the black hair of their people.  Their dark eyebrows proved that, but now both royals’ heads had gone a light gray, almost white, showing their elderly years, although both appeared no less regal than Cailan believed they would have appeared fifty years previously.  They also bore the silver shimmer of those born into the royal family, a unique trait that Cailan would always find breathtaking. 

The queen herself was beautiful, the very picture of what her daughter, Princess Sana would look like in future years. 

The king was tall, having an inch or so over all his sons from Cailan’s guess, but his eyes were the same as his children’s, and his features were ones Cailan recognized in Jarek, Alaric and Sem.  The genes in this family were strong.

Cailan sat up and moved to rise from the bed, but all three of his guests motioned for him to stay where he was.  Jarek even came to his side and placed a warm and heavy hand on his shoulder.  “No, do not rise, petling.  I’ve already told my parents that you need to rest your leg today.”

It felt wrong to not stand in the presence of both royalty and his future in-laws, but it felt just as wrong to argue or disobey Jarek’s order, especially in front of his parents.  Cailan chose to remain as he was, but did his best to be as proper as possible in that position.

Jarek reached for his hand and his eyes were encouraging.  “Love, may I introduce my parents, King Jonerick Lysander and Queen Dyanna Lysander.  Father, Mother, may I introduce my betrothed, Prince Cailan Nyle of Arten.”

Cailan did his best to bow in a seated position.  The king and queen offered formal head bows as well, but then took Cailan completely off-guard when Jarek stepped aside and let his parents each take one of Cailan’s hands.

His confusion and unease was clear for a split second before he caught himself and schooled his expression into one of friendly acceptance.  Still, Jarek’s parents were easily aware of his anxiety. 

“Young sire,” the king said, his voice deep and mildly gravelly, revealing his advanced age.  “We are honored to meet you.  Words can’t express our joy to make your acquaintance.”

Cailan sucked in a breath, but didn’t reply as the queen spoke after her husband.  “We’re so happy to be able to attend your initial bonding ceremony, and I know it’s a bit premature to say this before your union in two days, but welcome to the family.”

*****

Cailan was shocked at how quickly he was at ease with Jarek’s parents.  They were so unexpectedly accepting of him, almost more so than even Jarek had been in the beginning.  Of course, when he had first met Jarek it was as concubine and master, and that created an initial divide.  But with King Jonerick and Queen Dyanna, he felt like a friend they had sorely missed.

The four of them conversed easily for almost an hour before Jarek reminded his parents that King Saxon and Queen Adesina had offered to show them around the palace—an offer of goodwill and friendship in keeping with their treaty after the war—and to show the efforts that had been done so far for the ceremony.  It was nearing the time they had agreed to meet, so they politely said good-bye, promised to see Cailan at dinner that evening, and left to return to their guest quarters where they had agreed to meet the Artenian king and queen.

“Wow,” Cailan stated after they had left.  “Your parents are wonderful.”

Jarek grinned.  “I told you there was nothing to worry about.  I’m sure they’ll spend their time with your mother and father raving about you.”

Cailan ducked his head embarrassingly, although a small grin graced his face.  “Thank you for thinking I made a good impression.”

“Aw, petling.  It’s more than a good impression.  They accepted you before they met you.  Talking with you in person just proves to them that you’re as wonderful as I’ve said.”

Cailan let out an embarrassed chuckle.  “You can be awfully sappy sometimes.”

Jarek laughed out loud.  “I don’t think I’ve ever been accused of that before!  Don’t tell my soldiers, ok?”

Cailan grinned mischievously.  “Why not?  Wouldn’t they like to know their esteemed leader is capable of sweet talk?”

Jarek growled playfully and in a fast move pinned Cailan on his back and pressed his body down on the young prince’s now prone form.  “Do I need to prove my ferocity to you?  Keep you my captive and never let you out of my sight?”

The words were teasing, but they pushed a button in both men.  Cailan met Jarek’s eyes without blinking.  “Yes, master.”

Time stood still for a split second, and then the heat that burst in both of them was overpowering and instantaneous.  They began grinding on each other and Jarek’s mouth covered Cailan’s and refused to let go.  Cailan clung desperately to the bigger body over him, his hips bucking up as he sought more friction.  They were both on the edge and completely unware of anything around them until a loud knock broke into their frenzy.

Cailan groaned as Jarek roughly pulled back from their frantic kisses and growled in frustration.  He barely held back swearing at the door, and for several moments they were frozen in position but without breath to speak.

The knock came again, louder this time, and Jarek almost painfully rolled off of Cailan.  “They aren’t going away are they?” he asked gruffly.

Cailan gulped in breaths but managed to say, “Apparently not.”

Roughly straightening his clothes and pulling his tunic low to hide his erection, Jarek marched to the door and pulled it open.  The servant on the other side was just raising his hand to knock a third time and look startled at the sudden disappearance of the door and Jarek’s rather imposing frame on the other side.

“My…my apologies for disturbing you,” the young man offered.  “Queen Adesina wanted this missive delivered to Prince Cailan right away.” 

He held out a scrolled paper.  Jarek forcibly made himself calm down and managed a more affable look to the servant. 

“Thank you,” he said, taking the scroll.  “Did the queen need anything else?”

“Yes, sire.  She asked that I remain available until Prince Cailan could send a reply.”

“Come inside then, and I’ll have the prince read her message.”

The servant stepped into the room and discreetly took himself to a quiet alcove while Jarek handed the scroll to Cailan.

Thankful that the bed covers hid his arousal, Cailan curiously unfurled the paper and read it quickly.  “Mother wants to know when would be best to have my final fitting today for the ceremony attire, and she wants to know what you’re wearing as well to make sure we don’t clash.”  He gave Jarek a mild grimace.  “She’s been going nonstop to organize everything.”

“I’m not surprised.  It’s a short time to have such an event come together.  I’m grateful to her and your father for not delaying it though.  Why don’t you suggest that the fitting take place here in your quarters when they have finished visiting with my parents?  In the meantime, I’ll return to my rooms, freshen up, and bring my ceremony attire back here.”

“I guess,” Cailan agreed without enthusiasm.

“Does that not suit you, petling?” Jarek asked.

Cailan glanced at the servant in the corner of the room and then to Jarek.  His voice lowered, he replied, “I was hoping to have more time alone with you.”

Jarek purposefully leaned close, cupped Cailan’s chin and brought their mouths together, completely unworried if the servant saw them or not.  “We’ll eventually have that, little love.  I promise; just not today.”

Breathless once again, Cailan touched his forehead to Jarek’s.  “Ok,” he whispered back.

*****

The evening before the ceremony, Cailan looked about his room, seeing the changes in it as special items and belongings had been packed to return with him to Cylandrea this time.  There was a relief and gratefulness to know he could choose items to bring with him and not have to leave everything behind as he had before.

Four trunks were filled with his personal clothes and belongings, and just to be sure he missed nothing, he now went to each trunk and opened them to make sure everything was there that he wanted.

When he reached the last trunk, he realized that it was not one of those with the crest of Arten.  Instead, the Cylandrean flag was on it, marking its origins.  Cailan realized it was the trunk of clothes and such that he had obtained in Cylandrea and been sent back to Arten with him.  It had been stored in his clothes closet since his return, but never opened as far as he knew.

Curious as to the contents held within, Cailan lifted the top and peered inside.  For the most part he saw clothes, the ones Jarek had fitted him for, and many of which he hadn’t even had a chance to wear. 

He moved a few of the items inside, just to get a better idea of what all was there, when a very different item caught his eyes.  He let out a gasp as he moved a tunic aside and realized what it—or they—were.

It was his two locks of hair that Jarek had let him cut and then tied separately.  He reached in and pulled one out, remembering in detail the events of his nineteenth birthday.  He took out the second bunch of hair and placed both on his lap, the action drawing his attention to the ring on his right hand—the gift that had gone along with the cutting of his hair.  The middle gem from Jarek’s first crown glittered even without light touching its facets, and the two stones on either side of the gem, one from Cylandrea and one from Arten, were unique and beautiful in their positioning. 

It had been such an emotional day, but Jarek had done all he could to allow Cailan his rite into full manhood.  The ring was one Cailan planned to never take off, and the hair had been tied and safely stored for him to give to his father when the king came to visit him.

But the circumstances were changed now.  There was no longer a year’s gap until he’d see his family.  He was no longer a concubine.  He was about to be married and have an equal attachment to two kingdoms.

Jarek had almost uncannily prepared Cailan by the way he’d divided the hair.  It wasn’t a situation of choosing between the two nations or two families, but of being able to offer a loyalty to each.

Cailan returned one of the tied bunches to the chest and closed the lid.  The other one he gripped in his hand, wondering how to go about offering it to his father.

If he had been in Arten on the day he turned nineteen, there would have been a public event of his hair cutting and giving it to his father to burn as an offering of loyalty.  He knew that wasn’t possible anymore; and, as much as it had hurt to not celebrate that event in its traditional way, now Cailan preferred the idea of being able to give this offering privately, between just him and his father.

It was late, and propriety said he should not disturb his parents at this time, but he’d not have another chance before his marriage in the morning, so he acted quickly.  Summoning a page, he carefully wrote a missive, sealed it, and handed it to the boy to deliver to his father’s quarters, asking the king to meet him in the throne room on one half-hour’s time.

When the page left, Cailan made quick work of washing up, brushed his shoulder length hair until its silver color gleamed, and changed into the clothing that had been made months earlier for the event of his birthday. 

Dark red leggings covered his lower half, and his feet were slipped into shining black slippers that were saved for formal events that involved dancing and prolonged time on one’s feet.  A tunic sewn carefully and with the colors of his father’s hair marking it—red, black and brown—was pulled over his head and belted with a black sash.  The dagger and scabbard Cailan had been given on his official joining of the Artenian military at sixteen as attached to the sash, and then a cape of deep red was draped over his shoulders and tied around his neck before Cailan deemed himself ready.

Taking one of the locks of hair and placing it in a small chest, Cailan moved as quickly as possible through the palace halls to the throne room.  It was empty, but gleaming from the daily cleaning it received, and lit by the torches that never went out in the room.  Cailan paused a moment to take in the vastness and feel of the vacant area.

Colors of gold, red and royal purple decorated the area with the draping of elegant curtains hanging from the ceiling, banners personalized for long dead ancestors of Cailan’s family were strategically placed throughout the room.  Stained glass windows, exquisite in their artistry were dark now in the night, but which let the colors of their paintings shine into the room when the sun was high in the sky.  A long hall of porcelain floors led the way from the palace’s outer door to the raised platform that held the thrones of King Saxon and Queen Adesina.  Pillars lined the hall, and when processions were given entrance to see the king, Cailan knew dedicated soldiers would be in position between each pillar and around the king’s seating.  It was the most opulent room in the palace, designed to reflect the respect and glory due the country’s king.

Quietly, in humble respect of the room, his father, and what he intended to do, Cailan placed himself at the foot of the raised platform in front of his father’s throne, went down on one knee, set the chest on the floor in front of him, and bowed his head to wait for the king’s arrival.

Several minutes of silence surrounded Cailan, but it was a calming peace.  Cailan silently practiced the words he wished to say to his father when King Saxon arrived, hoping that they would be just right and that the offering of half his hair would be understood and accepted.

Eventually the sound of footsteps approaching brought his attention entirely to that present moment.  The steps were soft at first, but then almost seemed to echo in the vast room as they entered from somewhere to Cailan’s left. 

They stopped abruptly and Cailan forced himself to keep his head bowed.  He made a slow count of three in his head until the steps started again, and this time there was the almost indecipherable aura of regality in each tread, something Cailan had spent his whole life hearing and as a prince was acutely sensitive to.

Soon the steps stopped in front of the throne, and there was the soft rustling of clothes as the king took his seat on the ornate throne.

Cailan continued to wait, knowing he could speak only when given the approval and consent of the king.  He felt his father’s eyes studying him, but he remained motionless despite the ache that had started in his still-healing leg.

“Rise, Prince Cailan,” King Saxon’s deep voice spoke, almost echoing in the room.  “Speak your request of me.”

Cailan rose slowly, carefully, and nobly.  His head remained bowed until he stood erect, and then he straightened his neck and met his father’s gaze.

“My king,” he started, carefully making sure there was no tremor in his voice.  “I have brought a gift for you and ask to present it to you along with an explanation of my offering.”

He waited then, knowing his father had the right to decline the gift even before it was offered if he didn’t feel Cailan was being sincere or respectful enough.

King Saxon spoke without emotion, but Cailan thought he detected curiosity and perhaps approval in his eyes. 

“I will hear your explanation before I choose to accept or reject your gift.”

Cailan was ready for that.  The words he had been practicing as he waited for the king’s arrival now flowed from his mouth.

“My king, in the month prior to the one we now experience, your sixth-born son came to the end of his eighteenth year.  Circumstances prevented but did not erase my desire to show and offer you the loyalty of my heart and my sword.  On that day marking the start of my nineteenth year, the man who had unknowingly prevented me from making an offering to you came to an understanding of the importance the Artenian people, and those of us who call you our father, place on the rites we engage in on that day.  He offered me a generous gift that I could pass on to you.”

Cailan paused and bent to pick up the small chest that held his hair.

“Tomorrow I will be bound to Prince Jarek of Cylandrea, and that union will mark me as a new member to the Cylandrean kingdom.  But I am first a blood-born Artenian, and a devoted son to you—my father and king.  We live together in a time of treaty and peace between our kingdoms, and from tomorrow onward I will have an equal loyalty to the royal house of Arten and the royal house of Cylandrea.”

He paused, finding this next part hard to say, but wanting to be truthful and fully open with his father.

“This gift I offer has been split into equal halves and I give you one of them, not because I choose one kingdom or one man over the other, but because I desire to show my honor and loyalty to those who I love without partiality.”

His feet went into motion and Cailan reverently climbed the steps until he stood before the king’s throne, and then went down on both knees and held the chest out to his father.

“My gift of loyalty and love, my king.”

Very slowly, King Saxon lifted the chest from Cailan’s hands and placed it on his lap.  With surprisingly graceful movements from his sword-calloused fingers, he lifted the lid and stared for a long moment at the chest’s contents.

He said nothing for a long while, and Cailan yearned to ask for his acceptance, but kept his words to himself, although he felt his face growing paler as he feared his father’s rejection.

When the king did finally speak, his voice was rough and his eyes looked unusually bright. 

“I have wondered since your return when I saw your hair had been cut about who had received the strands.  I did not ask because I did not want to believe someone else had what I wanted to claim as mine.”  He touched the soft locks in the chest and then delicately lifted them out.  “You have saved them for me?”

Cailan’s own eyes grew moist, but he held his voice and posture steady.  “Leader Jarek was understanding when I explained our tradition, and allowed me to cut my hair.  He said, since at that time I was no longer a resident of Arten but yet still your son, that if I chose to give you half the strands when you visited in a year’s time that he would not stop me.  However, once again our circumstances have changed, and I do not need to wait a year to be in your presence.  Before I commit to another, I wanted to give you this gift.  I am loyal to you, father, and will never do anything to betray you.”

The king again looked to the silver hair tied together in his hands.  “Will the other half of your locks be given to Leader Jarek.”

Cailan had dreaded this question, not wanting to hurt his father, but he was truthful.  “Yes, Father.  Someday I will offer them to him, but I am and was your son first, so I feel it is only right that you receive the gift from my hand first.”  He swallowed once, controlling the trembling he felt inside.  “Will you accept the offering, my king.  Will you allow it to burn for you?”

The king rose regally, stood in front of Cailan’s kneeling form for a moment, and then placed a hand on his son’s head.  “I accept your offering, my son.  Bring me a torch.”

Relief and joy so strong flooded through Cailan.  He’d feared his father refusing the gift for a lot of reasons: because it was silver hair, because it wasn’t offered as tradition had always dictated, because it was only half the hair.  But his father seemed to understand and even be glad of his offering. 

He moved in the noble way he’d been trained in as a prince and warrior to one of the torches that lit the hall, while from the corner of his eye he watched his father move to a stone platform at the right hand side of his throne.  Taking the torch and holding it carefully, he met his father at the stone stand facing him from its opposite side.

King Saxon held up the tied lock of hair, but instead of placing it on the stones, he carefully pulled a section free and placed only that amount on the top of the stand. 

“Tradition,” he said, his tone low but almost reverberating with power and emotion, “is a good thing.  It holds tight to memories and reminds us to not change what is good and works well.  However, tradition can be harmful when it does not serve the greater good, or when we rely in it instead of something clearly better.”  He looked proudly at his son.  “Tradition says I am to burn all the hair you offer me, but I will not do that this night.  I will burn this,” he said, pointing to the strands on the stones, “to show my full acceptance of your gift.  But this part,” he lifted what was in his hand, “I will keep, because it will serve as a reminder to me that my silver-born son is good and strong and a man of loyalty and honor.  I could not ask for more from anyone.”

He took the torch from Cailan’s hand and held it over the stone platform, lowering it until the flames reached out to the silver locks, engulfing them in its orange heat, and disintegrating them, completing the offering Cailan had waited nineteen years to give his father.

King Saxon returned the torch to its stand, and then approached his son, placing a hand on either side of Cailan’s head and then pressing a kiss to his brow. 

The wet heat in Cailan’s eyes that he’d been holding back finally spilled over, a single drop falling from each eye.  At the sight, the king broke tradition again and hugged him.

“I am going to miss your presence in Arten, Cailan, but you will always have a home here, and the people will know that being a silver-born does not mean you or another is without value.”

Cailan clung to him the way he had only a handful of times as a child.  “Thank you for accepting my gift,” he managed.

“Son, I want you to understand that I accept you, not just your gift.”

Cailan nodded, and for a long time they stood together.  Finally, the king gruffly reminded that there was an important marriage in the morning and Cailan especially needed his sleep.