Prince of the Blood. Raymond E. Feist

your father the lesson needed to be … emphasized.’ He studied the two Princes. ‘You’ve been educated, taught by the best instructors your father could employ. You speak … what … six, seven languages? You can calculate like engineers at a siege. You can discourse on the teachings of the ancients. You have music and painting skills, and you know the etiquette of the court. You are skilled swordsmen and,’ he glanced at the two boxers, ‘you are somewhat gifted students of fisticuffs.’ He stepped away. ‘But during the nineteen years since your birth you’ve never given any indication that you’re anything other than spoiled, self-indulgent children. Not Princes of the realm!’ His voice rose and his tone turned angry. ‘And when we’re done with you, you’ll be performing the role of a Crown Prince instead of a spoiled child.’

      Borric stood crestfallen. ‘Spoiled child?’

      Erland grinned at his brother’s discomfort. ‘Well, that’s it, then, isn’t it? Borric shall have to mend his ways, and you and Father will be happy.’

      James’s wicked grin turned on Erland. ‘As will you, my lovely! For if this child of a foolish and capricious nature should go and get his throat cut by the angry husband of a Keshian court lady, it’s you who’ll wear the conDoin crown in Rillanon someday. And should he not, you’ll still be heir until the unlikely event of your brother becoming a father. Even then, you’ll most likely end up a duke somewhere.’ Letting his voice drop a bit, he said, ‘So both of you must begin to learn your office.’

      Borric said, ‘Yes, I know. First thing tomorrow. Come, let’s get some rest.’ Borric looked down and discovered a restraining hand upon his chest.

      ‘Not so fast,’ said James. ‘You haven’t finished your lesson.’

      ‘Ah, Uncle Jimmy—’ began Erland.

      ‘You’ve made your point,’ said Borric, simmering anger in his voice.

      ‘I think not,’ answered the Baron. ‘You’re still a pair of rude sods.’ Turning to the two Sergeants, he said, ‘If you please, continue.’

      Baron James signalled for Locklear to accompany him as he quickly left the two young Princes readying themselves for a professionally administered beating. As the two nobles left the court, James motioned to Lieutenant William. ‘When they’ve had enough, get them to their quarters. Let them rest and see they eat, then ensure that they are up and ready to see His Highness by midafternoon.’

      William saluted and turned to watch as both Princes tumbled to the canvas mat again. He shook his head. This wasn’t going to be a pretty sight.

       • CHAPTER TWO •

       Accusation

      THE BOY CRIED OUT.

      Borric and Erland watched from the window of their parents’ private chamber as Swordmaster Sheldon pressed his attack on young Prince Nicholas. The boy shouted again in eager excitement as he executed a clever parry and counterthrust. The Swordmaster retreated.

      Borric scratched at his cheek as he observed, ‘The boy can scamper about, for certain.’ The angry bruise from the morning’s boxing practice was darkening.

      Erland agreed. ‘He’s inherited Father’s skills with a blade. And he manages to do right well despite his bad leg.’

      Borric and Erland both turned as the door opened and their mother entered. Anita waved her ladies in waiting to the far corner of the room, where they commenced to discuss quietly whichever current piece of gossip was judged most interesting. The Princess of Krondor came to stand between her sons and peered through the window as a joyous Nicholas was lured into an overbalanced extension and found himself suddenly disarmed.

      ‘No, Nicky! You should have seen it coming,’ shouted Erland, though the glass window prevented his words from reaching his younger brother.

      Anita laughed. ‘He tries so hard.’

      Borric shrugged as they turned away. ‘Still, he does well enough for a boy. Not much worse than when we were his age.’

      Erland agreed. ‘The monkey.’

      Suddenly his mother turned on him and slapped him hard across the face. Instantly, the women in the other corner of the room ceased their whispers and stared in wide-eyed amazement at their Princess. Borric looked at his brother whose astonishment matched his own. Not once in the nineteen years of their lives had their mother raised a hand to either boy. Erland was more stunned by the act than any pain from the slap. Anita’s green eyes revealed a mixture of anger and regret. ‘Never talk that way about your brother again.’ Her tone left no room for argument. ‘You have mocked him and caused him more pain than all the unkind whispers among the nobles together. He is a good boy and he loves you, and all you have for him is ridicule and torment. Your first day back in the palace and within five minutes of speaking with you he was in tears again.

      ‘Arutha was right. I’ve let you go unpunished for your trespasses too long.’ She turned as if to leave.

      Borric, seeking to rescue his brother and himself from the embarrassment of the moment said, ‘Ah, Mother. You did send for us? Was there something else you wanted to discuss?’

      Anita said, ‘I didn’t send for you.’

      ‘I did.’

      The boys turned to see their father standing quietly at the small door that opened between his study and the family room, as Anita called his part of the royal apartment. The brothers glanced at one another and knew their father had been observing long enough to have witnessed the exchange between mother and sons.

      After a long silence, Arutha said, ‘If you’ll excuse us, I would have a private word with our sons.’

      Anita nodded and indicated to her ladies they should come with her. Quickly the room emptied, leaving Arutha with his sons. When the door was closed, Arutha said, ‘Are you all right?’

      Erland made a display of stiff muscles and said, ‘Well, enough, Father, given the “instructions” we received this morning.’ He indicated his tender side was not further injured.

      Arutha frowned and shook his head slightly. ‘I asked Jimmy not to tell me what he had in mind.’ He smiled a crooked smile. ‘I just requested he somehow impress upon you that there are serious consequences to not doing what is required of you.’

      Erland nodded. Borric said, ‘Well, it is not entirely unexpected. You did order us directly home and we did stop to play a bit before coming to the palace.’

      ‘Play …’ Arutha said, his eyes searching his eldest son’s face. ‘I’m afraid there will be little time for play in the future.’

      He motioned for the boys to approach and they came to him. He turned back into his study and they followed as he moved past his large writing table. Behind it was a special alcove, hidden by a clever locked stone, which he opened. He withdrew a parchment bearing the royal family crest and handed it to Borric. ‘Read the third paragraph.’

      Borric read and his eyes widened. ‘This is sad news, indeed.’

      Erland said, ‘What is it?’

      ‘A message from Lyam,’ Arutha said.

      Borric handed it to his brother. ‘The royal chirurgeons and priests are certain the Queen will have no more children. There will not be a Royal Heir in Rillanon.’

      Arutha moved to a door at the back of the royal chambers and said, ‘Come with me.’

      He opened the door and moved up a flight of stairs. His sons followed quickly after, and soon all three stood on the top of an old tower, near the centre of the royal palace, overlooking the city of Krondor. Arutha spoke without looking to see if his sons had followed.