Chapter 8

Valley of the Shadow

Feel it All by Chance Peña

The Domus

The Year of our Lord 3051

I heard the trailing garments of the Night

Sweep through her marble halls;

I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light

From the celestial walls.

I felt her presence, by its spell of might,

Stoop o’er me from above;

The calm, majestic presence of the Night,

As of the one I love.

– Hymn of the Night, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Two days passed in silence. Octavia had kindly kept Sol entertained with constant trips to town and endless gossip. She had not seen the Prince once, not even in passing or at the breakfast table. But from the moment Sol woke until her head hit the pillow, Octavia was there, filling any empty space. Sol was grateful for the Princess’s friendship, but she had never longed more for the peace of her library and the quiet of her home in the forest.

Perhaps that was why Sol found herself studying the mural on her ceiling hours after the last servant had fallen asleep, when there was a sharp knock at her door. The clock on her bedside stand indicated that it was far too late for visitors. The fireplace had been reduced to ashes, and the cold floor sent shivers up her bare legs as she sleepily stumbled to the door. The cold brass bit of the doorknob shocked her feverishly hot fingers. Her first thought was that Octavia had returned with more stories to tell. Sol should’ve known better than to think Octavia would knock.

Still, no one would have shocked her quite as much as the Prince leaning, arms crossed, against the door jamb. A glass, filled with something that smelled suspiciously of whiskey, was clutched in the hand crooked at his elbow. His dark hair was loose, just brushing the tops of his shoulders. The black button-down he wore was wrinkled, half untucked from the black trousers, the sleeves rolled carelessly. As soon as the door was open, he strolled in without invitation. He looked at the fire and began stoking the embers dying in the hearth.

“Yes, please make yourself at home,” Sol snapped, eyeing the clock again. She hadn’t been asleep, but she would’ve liked the option.

“This is my home,” he replied. “Since my sister failed to welcome you to Heraclea properly, I’ve come to do the honors, Your Highness.” Turning from the growing fire, he theatrically sketched a bow before polishing off the contents of his glass.

Sol pursed her lips, “Now? It’s nearly midnight.”

“Yes, well, I’ve been busy attempting to get information about your country. Something, as you well know, that is extraordinarily difficult on a good day. But it’s better to see the manor at night anyway. Less prying eyes.” He wriggled his black eyebrows above glimmering black eyes. He was definitely tipsy. “You have two minutes,” he said before collapsing into the wingback chair beside the hearth.

The Prince waited…impatiently. Sol could hear his tapping foot from where she dressed in the large walk-in closet. She was more than a little annoyed when she emerged a few moments later. “I’m ready.”

Springing from the chair, he flung open the door and strode down the hall. Sol hurried after him. “My parents think you need a babysitter,” he announced, glancing over his shoulder to cock an eyebrow her way. “And, while I do not typically make it a habit of babysitting, you are far better company and much more attractive than the council and advisors I would have otherwise been stuck meeting with.”

His forthright manner of speaking caught Sol off guard. “Do you typically have council meetings in the middle of the night?” Sol struggled to match his stride.

“No, but as they all thought I was with you, they left me alone all day. So, overall, I had a very pleasant day all to myself,” he smirked. “And now, I am bored. So, it is time for your tour.” He went to take a sip from his glass before remembering it was empty. He frowned at it for a moment, as if expecting it to magically refill. When it didn’t, he looked back at Sol and smiled as if he had just given her the most logical explanation in the world. “So, tell me about Assandun. I’ve never been.”

“I thought you were telling me about Heraclea,” she retorted, pointing an accusatory finger at him. She didn’t know if she could trust this Prince, but he was rather entertaining.

“Well, if you insist.” Swinging his empty glass as he walked, the Prince stood straighter and lowered his voice, taking on an air of superfluity. “As one who has ever opened a volume of The Encyclopedia of World History would know, Heraclea came into existence when the greatest general in modern history aided the South in their attempt to halt the onslaught of invaders from both the West and the East.” Sol scowled at the Prince as he led her back down the wall of portraits. “Over a thousand years ago, this continent was a global superpower. But it plunged into the greatest depression the world had ever seen. Their president ruthlessly taxed and squandered the little money his people had until only he and his staff had anything left. Weak and starving, his people were left defenseless to the assaults from outside nations. General Augustus Vitas Heraclea, a distant relative of the Southern Governor Fettuccini–”

Sol bit back a laugh. “That was not his name.”

He grinned impishly. “No, it was not. But you cannot blame me for forgetting some governor’s name. So, Governor Fettuccini it is. Now, may I continue?”

“One of your beloved governors,” she muttered.

The Prince shot her a glare at the interruption. “Anyway, Governor Fettuccini watched as the States disintegrated, the people murdering and stealing just to survive, and knew he must step up. Maxim Gostomysi invaded the West, and your ancestors…” He looked at her questioningly.

“General Ironside,” she answered flatly.

“Yes, of course.” The Prince rolled his eyes. “General Ironside invaded from the East. Seeing there would be no support from their leader, the southern governor took charge, and together with his decorated cousin General Augustus Heraclea, they held the Southern border for years. General Heraclea had united the South. So, they crowned him as their very first King and separated themselves from the savages in the north. Today, Heraclea remains the most powerful military force on the continent.” Brushing his long, dark hair out of his face, he heaved a dramatic sigh. “And that, Princess, is the story of Heraclea.”

Sol clapped enthusiastically for his dramatic rendition of their history. “Straight from a history book,” she confirmed, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Different from how they tell it in Assandun?”

“In Assandun, we put less emphasis on twisting General Heraclea into an altruistic hero. You forgot to mention that he only lent his aid under the agreement that he would be made their leader and insisted on setting up a monarchy to keep the power with his bloodline.”